The Sherman group (Pl. 32), though it has been more criticised than the “Shaw Memorial,” seems to me, if possible, an even finer work.  The main objection to it has been that it is not sufficiently “monumental,” and, indeed, it has not the massiveness nor the repose of such a work as Donatello’s “Gattamelata,” the greatest of all equestrian statues.  It could not well have these qualities in the same degree, its motive being what it is, but they are, perhaps, not ill exchanged for the character and the nationalism so marked in horse and rider and for the irresistible onward rush of movement never more adequately expressed.  In all other respects the group seems to me almost beyond criticism.  The composition—­composition, now, in the round and to be considered from many points of view—­builds up superbly; the flow of line in wing and limb and drapery is perfect; the purely sculptural problems of anatomical rendering, equine and human, are thoroughly resolved; the modelling, as such, is almost as fine as the design.

[Illustration:  Copyright, De.  W.C.  Ward.  Plate 31.—­Saint-Gaudens.  “Shaw Memorial.”]

To the boyish Saint-Gaudens Sherman had seemed the typical American hero.  To the matured artist he had sat for an admirable bust.  The sculptor had thus an unusual knowledge of his subject, a perfect sympathy with his theme; and he has produced a work of epic sweep and significance.  Tall and erect, the general sits his horse, his military cloak bellying out behind him, his trousers strapped down over his shoes, his hat in his right hand, dropping at arm’s length behind his knee, his bare head like that of an old eagle, looking straight forward.  The horse is as long and thin as his rider, with a tremendous stride; and his big head, closely reined in, twitches viciously at the bridle.  Before the horse and rider, upon the ground, yet as if new-lighted there from an aerial existence, half walks, half flies, a splendid winged figure, one arm outstretched, the other brandishing the palm—­Victory leading them on.  She has a certain fierce wildness of aspect, but her rapt gaze and half-open mouth indicate the seer of visions—­peace is ahead, and an end of war.  On the bosom of her gown is broidered the eagle of the United States, for she is an American Victory, as this is an American man on an American horse; and the broken pine bough beneath the horse’s feet localizes the victorious march—­it is the march through Georgia to the sea.

Long ago I expressed my conviction that the “Sherman Monument” is third in rank of the great equestrian statues of the world.  To-day I am not sure that that conviction remains unaltered.  Donatello’s “Gattamelata” is unapproached and unapproachable in its quiet dignity; Verrocchio’s “Colleone” is unsurpassed in picturesque attractiveness.  Both are consecrated by the admiration of centuries.  To-day I am not sure that this work of an American sculptor is not, in its own way, equal to either of them.