Another instructive instance can be found among the works of Paul Dubois (born 1829), a sculptor with rather less of the Greek and a little more of the fervid Italian in his temperament. His most famous work is the monument to General de la Moricière in the Cathedral at Nantes, but Dubois’ art is equally well represented by the charming “St. John”—in the Luxembourg. The early date of this work—it was modelled during the sculptor’s stay in Florence in 1860—perhaps saves it from an accusation which may be levelled against the greater portion of the sculpture of the academic school. Too often, its only fault is its faultlessness. For a time the senses are satisfied, but after a second and third visit we come “To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much.” In connection with this phase of modern French art, reference must be made to the work of Falguière. Apart from its intrinsic merit, Falguière’s influence among the younger French sculptors is enormous. The wonderful facility in modelling which is so common in France is in large measure due to his teaching and example. [Illustration: DUBOIS SAINT JOHN Luxembourg, Paris] [Illustration: IDRAC MERCURY INVENTING THE CADUCEUS Luxembourg, Paris] From these illustrations it will be plain that the whole of the French academical school inclines to sacrifice too much to the graces. Aided by an almost perfect technique, its masters have little difficulty in securing their one aim—abstract beauty. But they fail to avoid showing in their marbles and bronzes a marked lifelessness obviously due to the adoption of a foreign convention. In these days, the French sculptor does not follow Canova. He forms his style upon semi-Italian, semi-Greek lines, laid down by an entity—the École des Beaux Arts. For this reason, it is no coincidence that the two foremost sculptors in France not only failed to gain anything from the École des Beaux Arts, but can actually trace their supreme position to this very fact. Jules Dalou succeeded in securing admission to the École’s classes, but agreed that “in the end they did him no good.” Rodin actually sat for the entrance examination three times. On each occasion he failed to persuade the authorities that his talent was worth fostering. Had the École des Beaux Arts succeeded in dragging these two men into their all-enfolding net, the world would certainly be the poorer by the very qualities which give the sculpture of Dalou and Rodin its unique value.