f the workmen throwing the handfuls of
plaster at the delicate clay. Cleopatra was substantially finished, but
Story was unwilling to let her go, and had no end of doubts as to the
handling of minor details. The hand that rests on her knee--should the
forefinger and thumb meet or be separated? If they were separated, it
meant the relaxation of despair; if they met, she was still meditating
defiance or revenge. After canvassing the question at great length with
my father, he decided that they should meet; but when I saw the marble
statue in the Metropolitan Museum the other day I noticed that they
were separated. In the end the artist had preferred despair. Such things
indicate the man's character, and, perhaps, explain his failure to reach
the great heights of art. He could not trust a great idea to manage
itself, but sought subtler expression through small touches, and thus,
finally, lost the feeling of the larger inspiration. A little more of
the calm, Greek spirit would have done him good.

He had many projects for other statues, which he would build up in fancy
before my father and discuss with him. His words and gestures made the
ideas he described seem actual and present, but he seldom got them
into marble; he probably found, upon trial, that they did not belong to
sculpture. He had the ambition to make marble speak not its own language
merely, but those of painting and of poetry likewise; and when this
proved impossible he was unhappy and out of conceit with himself, On
the other hand, he did good work in poetry and in prose; but neither
did these content him. After all, my father's observation hit the mark;
things came too easy to him. Goethe speaks the word for him:

"Wer nie sein Brod mit thranen ass,
Er kennt euch nicht, ihr ewige Machte!"

XVI

Drilled in Roman history--Lovely figures made of light and
morning--What superb figures!--The breath and strength of
immeasurable antiquity--Treasures coming direct from dead
hands into mine--A pleasant sound of coolness and
refreshment--Receptacles of death now dedicated to life--The
Borghese is a forest of Ardennes--Profound and important
communings--A smiling deceiver--Of an early-rising habit--
Hauling in on my slack--A miniature cabinet magically made
Titanic--"If I had a murder on my conscience"--None can tell
the secret origin of his thoughts--A singularly beautiful
young woman--She actual