Before speaking further of our greatest sculptor, a few words should be devoted to the last and most distinguished of the pioneers, John Quincy Adams Ward (1830-1910), who was privileged to see the triumphs of American sculpture at home and abroad, and to participate in them to the end. Always keenly alive and vibrantly responsive to the forces at work about him, he was ever a contemporary of the youngest men of his profession. Ward’s earliest success, “The Indian Hunter” in Central Park, New York City, was the result of a long journey among the red men. Its intensity is an unconscious revelation of the man who made it: no lackadaisical dreamer could have conceived the idea, much less have carried it to its happy realization. The emotion of war times found expression in “The Freedman,” and later in a notable series of memorials to heroes of the conflict, culminating in the great “Henry Ward Beecher” of Brooklyn, one of the most impressive portraits in this country. None but a big man could have grasped that character; none but a strong nature could convey to others that impression of exuberant vitality and of conscious power. The great preacher stands solidly upon his feet, enveloped in a heavy overcoat and cape, his hat in hand. The poise is superbly confident; the leonine head uplifted as if in command rather than in exhortation. [Illustration: THE WARRIOR, BY WARD _One of the three figures that adorn the base of the Garfield statue at Washington. The other two are the “Statesman” and the “Student.”_] New York City has many of Ward’s works. His “Pilgrim” and “Shakespeare” in Central Park are well known. His “Horace Greeley” is the last word in faithful characterization, as vivid as his Wall Street “Washington” is noble and detached. The admirable equestrian “General Thomas” and the “Garfield” monument in Washington are equally familiar. The uprightness and dignity of the whole life of the sculptor left their impress upon every portrait he modeled. Some are greater than others; but they are _men_, everyone of them. They stand firmly on their feet, and they make no gestures, no attempt to win us. There is no restlessness, no anxiety; you feel eternity in their attitudes, in their composure. Above all, the sculptor has known how to endow each with an individual intelligence. SAINT GAUDENS, THE MASTER [Illustration: GRIEF, BY SAINT GAUDENS _This mysterious figure is sometimes called “Death,” or “The Peace of God.” It is in Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington, and is a memorial to Mrs. Adams._]