It will readily be seen that marble--the substance most fitting for the artistic rendering of form, would not comply with these demands. Thus, in Spain, the classic marble was discarded, while wood and plaster were employed in its place. These substances could be readily coloured, or even covered with a canvas, like a skin, and then painted to counterfeit life. This barbaric custom--a relic of heathen days, did much to seal the doom of the art of sculpture in Spain. In seeking to imitate life the artists frequently rendered their statues grotesque. The ambition of art is not to be a deceptive imitation of nature. The true purpose of sculpture is to depict pure form; when it departs from this limitation it loses its distinguishing motive, the representation of repose, and becomes a degraded intermingling of the two arts of sculpture and painting. Yet, in spite of these limitations, there are several Spanish sculptors whose works deserve praise, and two of the most famous lived and worked in Seville. Pietro Torriggiano, of Florence, a roving soldier-sculptor, came to Spain, in the year 1520. He had journeyed in many lands, and to his skill we owe the fine tomb of Henry VII., in Westminster Abbey. He settled in Seville, and soon completed his great work, San Jerónimo penitente, now in the north transept of the Museo. It is impossible to rightly estimate the value of this work in its present position. The bright colours of the modern picture, which forms its background, are entirely unharmonious. The penitent saint, with his sinewy, attenuated form, frowning brow and shaggy locks, needs to be seen alone. Its original home was a lonely grotto in the gardens of the Jeronimite Convent; and in such a place of quiet solitude we must picture it, before we can appraise its worth. Cean Bermudez twice visited it in company with Francisco Goya. It excited their unbounded admiration, and Goya pronounced it 'the finest piece of work of modern sculpture in Spain, and perhaps in the world.' Torriggiano fell under the ban of the Inquisition, and died in the prison of the Holy Office. Facing the San Jerónimo, in the south transept, rests the Santo Domingo, of Martinez Montañes, the most eminent sculptor of Seville, if not of the whole of Spain. The date of his birth is not recorded, but we know he was working in Seville in the year 1607; he died in 1649. Like its companion work of art the Santo Domingo suffers from its situation. Such works are utterly unsuited to the crowded gallery; they need the silent cloister, or quiet corner in some convent church. The saint kneels and scourges himself. The figure is of wood and of great dignity. The colouring is subdued, so as not to interfere with the fineness of the conception. The statue is a powerful study of asceticism.