[Illustration: J. B. CARPEAUX THE DANCE From the Opera House, Paris] THE ACADEMIC SCULPTORS The technical tradition established by Carpeaux has never been lost. To this day, France boasts of a band of sculptors who can make marble “dance” and “live,” as surely as Carpeaux himself. In this respect, the French school is far better endowed than the English. The technical superiority is, in great measure, traceable to the École des Beaux Arts. Before we embark upon the inevitable criticism, let us render our meed of praise. The École des Beaux Arts was founded as far back as 1648. It is open to Frenchmen of all classes, entrance being by an examination consisting of modelling in clay from “the life.” The test occupies two hours daily for a week—twelve hours in all. The aim of every sculptor at the École des Beaux Arts is the Prix de Rome, which has been held by most of the famous French Masters and brings with it the very tangible advantage of a four years’ residence in Italy at the Government’s expense. The school employs a large staff of highly gifted professors and provides technical instruction which is worthy of all praise. Few men of talent leave its walls without, at any rate, knowing how to model and what sculptural design actually means. Unfortunately the École des Beaux Arts does not escape the fault of all academies. Its system reduces the chance of failure to a minimum, but it does nothing to increase the proportion of supreme successes. The insistence upon tradition which is inseparable from academic teaching, seems to prevent those who accept its methods from ever expressing their full individuality. To find what is most vital in French sculpture one has therefore to look beyond the ranks of those who have been trained in the École des Beaux Arts. Nevertheless, no record of modern French art would be complete without some reference to the sculptures to be seen in every salon, which clearly owe their finest qualities to the teaching of that school. The task of selecting two or three typical examples is an invidious one. The general level of sculptural achievement in France is so high, and the sculptors who claim inclusion in the first rank are so numerous, that it is almost impossible to single out one man without remembering that another has at least an equal claim to notice. Bearing this proviso in mind, few will be found to object to the inclusion of Antoine Idrac. No finer choice can be made than his beautiful “Mercury inventing the Caduceus” in the Luxembourg collection at Paris. Graceful, suave, restrained, it shows French academic art at its very best.