above the town.  It is, like the Bavaria, of bronze, cast in sections, and made from cannons taken in warfare.  The Virgin’s head is surmounted by a crown of stars, and she carries the infant Christ on her left arm.  The location of this statue is felicitous, but it has no intrinsic value as an art work.  It will be seen, then, that these outdoor colossi of to-day do not afford us much encouragement to believe that Mr. Bartholdi will be able to surmount the difficulties which have vanquished one sculptor after another in their endeavors to perform similar prodigies.  Sculpture is perhaps the most difficult of the arts of design.  There is an antique statue in the Louvre which displays such wonderful anatomical knowledge, that Reynolds is said to have remarked, “to learn that alone might consume the labor of a whole life.”  And it is an undeniable fact that enlarging the scale of a statue adds in more than a corresponding degree to the difficulties of the undertaking.  The colossi of the ancients were to a great extent designed for either the interiors or the exteriors of religious temples, where they were artfully adapted to be seen in connection with architectural effects.  Concerning the sole prominent exception to this rule, the statue of Apollo at Rhodes, we have such scant information that even its position is a subject of dispute.  It has been pointed out how the four modern outdoor colossi of Europe each and all fail to attain the requirements of a work of art.  All our inquiries, it appears then, lead to the conclusion that Mr. Bartholdi has many chances against him, so far as we are able to learn from an examination of the precedents, and in view of these facts it would be a matter for surprise if the “Liberty” statue should prove to possess any title to the name of a work of art.  We reserve a final decision, however, as to this most important phase of the affair, until the statue is in place.

[Footnote A:  “Les Colosses anciens et moderns,” par E. Lesbazeilles; Paris:  1881.]

The idea that great size in statues is necessarily vulgar, does not seem admissible.  It would be quite as just to condemn the paintings on a colossal scale in which Tintoretto and Veronese so nobly manifested their exceptional powers.  The size of a work of art per se is an indifferent matter.  Mere bigness or mere littleness decides nothing.  But a colossal work has its conditions of being:  it must conform to certain laws.  It must be executed in a large style; it must represent a grand idea; it must possess dignity and strength; it must convey the idea of power and majesty; it must be located in a place where its surroundings shall augment instead of detracting from its aspect of grandeur; it must be magnificent, for if not it will be ridiculous.  The engravings of Mr. Bartholdi’s statue represent a woman clad in a peplum and tunic which fall in ample folds from waist and shoulder to her feet.  The left foot, a trifle advanced supports the main weight