rble. Avoiding as much as
possible the treatment of purely poetical subjects, Chantrey by the
force of simplicity idealized the most ordinary topics. He shrank from
allegory by a natural instinct, yet his plain unadorned forms have the
elevation and charm of a figurative discourse. "Chantrey," says Mr.
Jones.

"Cast aside every extrinsic recommendation, and depended entirely on form
and effect. He took the greatest care that his shadows should tell boldly
and in masses. He was cautious in introducing them, and always reduced
them as much as might be compatible with the complete development of the
figure. He never introduced a fold that could be dispensed with, rarely
deviated from long lines, and avoided abrupt foldings. His dislike to
ornament in sculpture was extreme."

In architecture he liked it no better. Superfluous embellishment in this
branch of art he held to be either concealment of inability or a
development of puerile taste. Fine buildings, he asserted, must still be
fine, if divested of every ornament and left altogether bare. Apparent
artlessness is the consummation of art. The busts of Chantrey bear
immortal testimony to the fact.

The manly and courageous view which Chantrey took of his duties as an
artist sustained him in every attempt he made to impress that view upon
his works. He is described as "shrinking from no difficulty," as being
"deterred by no embarrassment that labor, assiduity, and good sense could
surmount." His independence was as great as his energy, and both smacked
of the Saxon blood in his veins. The manner of the sculptor was rough and
unceremonious, but he exhibited as little coarseness in his demeanor as
in the massive figures of his chisel, which might offend some by their
heaviness, but which gratified all by their undoubted grandeur and
dignity. The quiet yet splendid generosity of Chantrey was equally
characteristic of his country. He assisted the needy largely and
unobtrusively. Instances of his bounty are on record which would do honor
to the wealthiest patron of art. How much more luster do they shed upon
the indefatigable day-laborer? If we follow the sculptor from his studio
to the open fields, he is still national to the backbone. He escapes from
London to pass days with his rod at the river side, or to walk with his
gun on his arm "from 10 o'clock until half-past 4 without feeling the
least fatigue." Yesterday he killed two salmon in the Conway, at
Llanrwst, and to-d