We propose to start with France. In spite of the strong lead which Rude gave his fellows, the whole body of French sculptors were slow to realize the importance of the new vistas of experience opening before them. A few, David d’Angers for instance, expressed a measure of the revolutionary spirit in their art. But, in the main, the elegant grace of a philo-Hellene like Pradier was appreciated above the vigorous naturalism of Rude and David. It was not until the genius of Barye and Carpeaux forced itself upon the public notice that a definite step forward was made. Of the two, Antoine Barye (1795-1875) was the first in point of time, though the second in point of influence. In many ways, however, Barye marks, more clearly than Carpeaux himself, the gulf separating the typically modern school from that which contented itself with ringing the changes upon an endless series of mythological abstractions. Barye was first and foremost a sculptor of wild animals. The famous exhibit in the Salon of 1831, which first brought him into notice, could only have been modelled by one who knew the anatomy of the beasts of the forest as completely as the Greeks knew the human form. The group represented a death struggle between a crocodile and a tiger. Barye showed the crocodile clutching, in mortal agony, at the neck of the tiger. The tiger, with gleaming eyes, bites fiercely into its enemy’s body. When we compare such a subject with the Venuses and Apollos with which his fellows concerned themselves, Barye’s connection with the Romanticists is at once evident. The pith and marrow of Romanticism is a distrust of the commonplace and a longing to bring new worlds of experience within the ken of the artist. Take a few of the leaders of the Romantic Movement at random. In literature, Scott, Byron, Heine, and Victor Hugo. In painting, Gericault, Turner, and Delacroix. One and all sought to arouse the world from a state of contentment which Ruskin adroitly illustrated by the image of the happiness of the squirrel in his circular prison. The end of their endeavour was to extend the sphere of art beyond the graceful, the fanciful, and the commonplace. But the mere discovery of a fresh field for the sculptor is only a part of the debt which we moderns owe to Barye. His supreme gift lay in his power to treat the new subjects without ever transgressing the limits set by his medium. “A genius in his conception of art and by his power of expressing it,” is the verdict of his pupil, Rodin. The truth of this can be seen at once in any of Barye’s famous works—the “Lion” in the courtyard of the Louvre, for instance, or the brilliant “Centaur and Lapith,” in the same collection. Nothing to be compared with them as studies in animal life, had been given to the world since the days of the Assyrian sculptors, who worked with the knowledge that only a race of hunters can possess.