Tímarit Þjóðræknisfélags Íslendinga - 01.01.1963, Qupperneq 113

albert thorvaldsen, sculptor
95
hair whcih fell over his eyes as he
worked, and for his lack of interest
in anything except drawing and
clay modelling. The painter, Abil-
gaard, taught Bertel painting and
drawing and gave him every en-
couragement in his clay modelling.
Abilgaard has left a record saying:
At this time, Thorvaldsen was very
self-contained, reticent, seemingly
without ambition.” He used to post-
pone every task, (this was some-
times noticeable in his work habits
iater on). He would shirk his duties,
uratil sharply reminded. When he
did begin he fell to with vigour like
°ne possessed, finishing his task
quickly. Abilgaard believed that the
stuff was there and that one day
he would wake from his slumber,
aud his devoted teacher would be
able to say triumphantly: “What
did I tell you!”
As we have noted Thorvaldsen
Was already well esteemed in his
native country, and was awarded a
ihree-year sholarship to go to Rome
t° study. At first he was very re-
luctant to go and leave his parents,
íor he was a very dutiful and de-
v°ted son. Moreover he was not
aggressively ambitious for himself,
ais nature being rather dreamy and
iutrospective. Finally Abilgaard
Hterally pushed him to gol He be-
came a sort of charity passenger on
the merchant ship “Thetis’,’ and was
supposed to make himself useful
1° the crew. The ship took its
eisurely way, calling at many sea-
Ports en route, and it was a full
Seven months before they arrived
at the Eternal City. Unfortunately
ertel was too indolent to apply
himself to learning the Italian lan-
guage during the trip, (The ship’s
Captain called him: “The laziest
fellow I’ve ever known!”) But per-
haps the young man deserved this
period of rest. He had worked very
hard helping his father, not only
carving and designing the figure-
heads, but also at modelling in clay,
figures for selling to augment the
family finances. Indeed, so well had
he applied himself that gradually
the pall of poverty had been lifted
and the family was moderately well
off.
The soul grows by leaps and
bounds, by throes and throbs. The
fallow years are full of promise; the
silent winter prepares the soil for
spring. And so it was with our hero
as he stood alone and isolated on
this foreign soil and gazed at all
the glory that was Rome. A flash!
And a new world opens up, whereas
before you have been blindly grop-
ing.
“I was born March 8, 1797!” Thor-
valdsen used to say, for that was the
day when he reached Rome. He was
bitterly alone, he did not know the
language, he felt his sense of un-
worthiness, the wasted years, as he
called them. But he was alive, he
was here; the future years were rich
in promise. The antique world was
new to him, he knew little of books,
nothing of mythology, not much of
history! But he would learn, Oh,
how he would learn; and almost at
once he started to absorb into him-
self knowledge and learning in
many spheres. There are some that
grub along at a snail’s pace, not
seeing the forest for the trees, but