much to say that Mr. Bartholdi in this case has shown a fine
appreciation of the requirements of colossal sculpture. He has
sacrificed all unnecessary details, and, taking a lesson from the old
Egyptian stone-cutters, has presented an impressive arrangement of
simple masses and unvexed surfaces which give to the composition a
marvellous breadth of effect. The lion is placed in a sort of rude niche
on the side of a rocky hill, which is the foundation of the fortress of
Belfort. It is visible at a great distance, and is said to be strikingly
noble from every point of view. The idea is not original, however well
it may have been carried out, for the Lion of Lucerne by Thorwaldsen is
its prototype on a smaller scale and commemorates an event of somewhat
similar character. The bronze equestrian statue of Vercingetorix, the
fiery Gallic chieftain, in the Clermont museum, is full of violent
action. The horse is flying along with his legs in positions which set
all the science of Mr. Muybridge at defiance; the man is brandishing his
sword and half-turning in his saddle to shout encouragement to his
followers. The whole is supported by a bit of artificial rock-work under
the horse, and the body of a dead Gaul lies close beside it. In the
statue of Rouget de l'Isle we see a young man striking an orator's
attitude, with his right arm raised in a gesture which seems to say:

"_Aux armes, citoyens / Formes vos bataillons!_"

The Lafayette, in New York, is perhaps a mediocre statue, but even so,
it is better than most of our statues. A Frenchman has said of it that
the figure "resembles rather a young tenor hurling out his C sharp, than
a hero offering his heart and sword to liberty." It represents our
ancient ally extending his left hand in a gesture of greeting, while his
right hand, which holds his sword, is pressed against his breast in a
somewhat theatrical movement. It will be inferred that the general