ch works as
the so-called "Genius" of the Vatican and the Athenian marbles, or
between the Niobe group at Florence and the Venus torso at Naples, for
example, seems markedly individual enough, though the element of style
is still to our eyes the most prominent quality in each. Indeed, if one
really reflects upon the subject, it will not seem exaggeration to say
that to anyone who has studied both with any thoroughness it would be
more difficult to individualize the mass of modern French sculpture than
even that of the best Greek epoch--the epoch when style was most
perfect, when its reign was, as it sometimes appears to us, most
absolute. And if we consider the Renaissance sculpture, its complexity
is so great, its individuality is so pronounced, that one is apt to lose
sight of the important part which style really plays in it. In a work by
Donatello we see first of all his thought; in a Madonna of Mino's it is
the idea that charms us; the Delia Robbia frieze at Pistoja is pure
_genre_.

But modern academic French sculpture feels the weight of De Musset's
handicap--it is born too late into a world too old. French art in
general feels this, I think, and painting suffers from it equally with
sculpture. Culture, the Institute, oppress individuality. But whereas
Corot and Millet have triumphed over the Institute there are--there
were, at least, till yesterday--hardly any Millets and Corots of
sculpture whose triumph is as yet assured. The tendency, the weight of
authority, the verdict of criticism, always conservative in France, are
all the other way. At the Ecole des Beaux-Arts one learns, negatively,
not to be ridiculous. This is a great deal; it is more than can be
learned anywhere else nowadays--witness German, Italian, above all
English exhibitions. Positively one learns the importance of style; and
if it were not for academic French sculpture, one would say that this
was something the importance of which could not be exaggerated. But in
academic French sculpture it is exaggerated, and, what is fatal, one
learns to exaggerate it in the schools. The traditions of Houdon are
noticeably forgotten. Not that Houdon's art is not eminently
characterized by style; the "San Bruno" at Rome is in point of style an
antique. But compare his "Voltaire" in the foyer of the Comedie
Francaise with Chapu's "Berryer" of the Palais de Justice, to take one
of the very finest portrait-statues of the present day. Chapu's statue
is more tha