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yards of Copenhagen. "For the earliest information concerning his sons," says Mrs. Rowan, “ we are indebted to some old ship-carpenters of Copenhagen, who related that they perfectly well remember him as a handsome fair-haired boy, coming to visit his father at the dock-yards, and that he was loved by all who saw him." The views of Gotskalk Thorvalsden with respect to the future career of his son did not extend beyond qualifying him to act as an assistant in his own trade; and it was with some difficulty that this determination was, by the earnest importunity of friends, commuted to the better purpose of conferring upon him an artistic education.

His studies commenced at the Academy of Copenhagen in 1781, under the instruction of Hans Cleo, and after twelve months of preparatory application (an unusually short period), he was removed to the life class. Three years were devoted to the exclusive study of the human figure, after which, "for the first time, casts from the antique were placed before him," a course of study which seems to reverse the order of progress laid down in the existing schools of Europe. In 1786 he began to work in clay. The Academy was at this time under the direction of the Sculptor Wiedewelt, but it was to the Professor Abilgaard, under whose immediate instruction he prosecuted his studies, that he was indebted for an affectionate and active interest, which, operating upon his own intelligent assiduity, enabled him to gain the silver medal after an attendance of one year in this school. When discoursing of his student days, Thorvalsden dwelt with satisfaction upon one result of this triumph, which was the respectful prefix of Mr. to his name by his religious examiner, on having ascertained that he was the Thorvalsden who had distinguished himself in the Academy competitions.

The suavity of disposition which distinguished Albert Thorvalsden was genuine. His temper was entirely independent of ease and prosperity, and was not less equable at the time when his studio at Rome was unvisited, than afterward, when none proceeded to the Eternal City without soliciting permission to see his works. With this winning amiability he was taciturn, grave, and devoted to his art, insomuch that nothing beyond its sphere could excite his interest. With the knowledge and executive power which he had acquired, he looked beyond the rude style of his father, but the latter, notwithstanding the prospect which his course of study at the Academy opened to him, was earnestly desirous of his return to the paternal atelier, and to this wish the young artist had determined to yield filial obedi

ence; but the intercession of his master, the Professor Abilgaard, together with the entreaties of his fellow-students, obtained for him a division of his time, part being given to study, and the rest to his father's business, which, it will be believed, derived a new character from the co-operation of the son, who, while with his father, exercised individually, as circumstances demanded, every department of the education of a sculptor. He carved in stone as well as in wood, executed bas-reliefs and sketched portraits. There is extant a carved clock-case, a production of this period of his life; and among other works in stone in which he assisted his father may be mentioned the Royal Arms over the door of an apothecary's shop in Store Kjobmager street in Copenhagen, and the four lions in the circular area at the entrance of the gardens of the Royal palace of Fredericksberg, near that city. "The earliest work of Thorvalsden," says Mrs. Rowan,

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now extant is, as far I have been able to ascertain, a small bas-relief executed by him in the year 1789, on the occasion of his participating in the competition for the large silver medal. This bas-relief, which gained the prize, represents a Cupid in an attitude of repose leaning on his right arm, and holding in his right hand his bow, while the left, which grasps an arrow, hangs carelessly by his side. The air and character of the head, and the disposition of the locks, which are parted on the brow, betray the influence exercised at this period on our artist's style by the precepts and example of Abilgaard. The whole composition must be considered as nothing more than a mere school exercise, the interest of which he endeavored to enhance by adding a bow and arrow and wings to the figure that served as his model.

As the space to which we are limited denies us the pleasure of pursuing in detail the story of a life so interesting as that of Thorvalsden, we can only briefly speak of the most prominent incidents.

In the Academy of Copenhagen he distinguished himself insomuch as to obtain the gratuity known in Academies as the allowance set apart for the "traveling students," and thereupon proceeded to Rome, the alma mater of the artist. It is very well known that his success in Italy discouraged him and disappointed his friends. The period of the duration of the traveling stipend expired, without having promoted his independent establishment in his profession. The period was extended until the year 1802, but this additional term also expired unprofitably, and he had determined to return home in the spring of that year, but subsequently deferred his depart

ure until the end of 1803, and recommenced his statue of Jason. He had already treated the subject in the year 1800; the figure was of the size of life, but not having the means of defraying the expense of casting the work in plaster, he destroyed the clay study. The second Jason was of extreme heroic dimensions, and this figure was rescued from the fate of the preceding only by the kindness of a lady, a country woman of the sculptor. Rich in reputation, but poor in substantial means, Thorvalsden now thought seriously of his return home. His little property was soon disposed in traveling order; his books and prints were already dispatched, and his own departure fixed for the following day, early in the morning of which the vetturino was at his door, and his luggage was fastened behind; but he was not yet to revisit Denmark. His proposed traveling companion was the sculptor Hayemann, of Berlin; and he, whose business it was to procure the passports, came to inform him that in consequence of some informality it was necessary that their departure should be postponed until the following day. But again an event occurred which opened a new prospect to Thorvalsdenhe was now about to commence the ascent which enabled him to develop his transcendent genius. On this day-which had otherwise certainly been the last of his residence in Rome, at least at that period of his life-the wealthy banker, Mr. Thomas Hope, was conducted to his studio by a valet-de place. This visitor was immediately struck by the grandeur of the Jason, and at once inquired upon what terms the sculptor would execute it in marble. The sum named by Thorvalsden was six hundred zechins, but Mr. Hope observed, that as this was below the value of such a work, he proposed eight hundred zechins, and engaged to put the artist in a position to commence the statue without delay.

The joy with which Thorvalsden accepted this proposal can be readily estimated. Rome had been the great haven of his hopes, but he had passed years there in disappointment, which, but for a conviction that he had yet duties before him, had become a settled despondency. This commission was to him the commencement of a new existence, and this change was the more grateful that it was so unexpected. And now commenced that long career which was more than ever illustrious, even at the ultimate term allotted to human life. Thorvalsden fixed his residence in Rome, passed, indeed, the greater portion of the remainder of his life there, and

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each succeeding year brought forth from his studio some precious example of that series of works by which he is immortalized. Henceforward the incident of the life of Thorvalsden was his works, and these one by one fell from his hands-brilliant creations-each shedding its unquenchable ray of glory on his name. As this article must extend to the succeeding number, we shall, in addition to the compositions by which it is illustrated, notice some of the greatest works of Thorvalsden, who has been equally felicitous in mythological and religious sculpture. A comparison of these classes determines at once whence the loftier aspiration arises. The severity and dignity of sacred subjects are most congenial to the grave character of sculpture. Thorvalsden's sepulchral monuments contribute not the least solid part of his reputation. These productions were very numerous, but in no instance has he disqualified the dignity of sculpture by individuality or questionable taste. And the allegory in all of these is so pointed, the narrative so perspicuous, that no descriptive legend is necessary. In some of Thorvalsden's bassi-rilievi, the figures have too much roundness, but this is a defect which he has remedied from observation of the Elgin Marbles, which are flatter than nature, in order to secure a greater breadth of light, with a view to the better definition of objects removed from the eye. He was the greatest modern master of basso rilievo; how great soever the excellences of his statues, they are yet surpassed by the learning displayed in low relief, confessedly the most difficult department of sculptural composition. To excel in anywise in sculpture is an enviable distinction, but a superiority in basso-rilievo is a transcendent pre-eminence. In the execution of round sculpture the artist is supported by the tangible type of the living form, but relieved composition deviates from the natural form in facto, the better to convey the appearance of truth-a paradox which is explained by comparison of two low relief compositions, the one modeled strictly according to natural proportion, and the other according to conventional principle. In the succeeding number will be especially noticed the works at Copenhagen, where he has left a magnificent legacy that forms the pride of the Danish capital; which legacy his admiring fellow-countrymen, with the respect due to the most exalted genius, have raised a temple wherein it may be enshrined for the gratification of the present and succeeding generations.

THAT dark shade which passed over the name of the illustrious BACON, toward the close of his life, which hurled him degraded from the office he had so long and so earnestly sought, and which led Pope to characterize him as the

"Wisest, greatest, meanest of mankind,"

has rendered it almost impossible to estimate his moral and religious character. To this sad period of Bacon's life, his character, so far as we know, except as a man fond of display, and ambitious, was beyond reproach. In the offices which he held, and in his private deportment, he was never suspected of a want of integrity. Hume declares that he was not only the ornament of his age and nation, but also beloved for the courteousness and humanity of his behavior." It is natural for us to seek some palliation for Bacon's great offence; and happily there were circumstances which, while they by no means justify his crime, yet serve in some measure to modify its character, and render it much less base and ignominious than such an offence would be deemed in our times.

The parliament which was assembled by James in 1621, entered immediately into an investigation of the existing abuses of the nation. Unhappily they found in this, their favorite employment, an ample field of labor. Abuses had crept into the government under James, which this vain monarch either would not believe could exist under his wise administration, or which he was unwilling to correct. The necessity of the case, however, compelled him to yield to a determined and inflexible House of Commons. That house, he already saw, was disposed to apply an unsparing hand to all the abuses of the government, and even to most of the royal preroga tives. The necessity of the case compelled him to express his royal gratification with their labors, and to encourage them in their work. "I assure you," said he, "had I before heard these things complained of, I would have done the of fice of a just king, and out of parliament have punished them, as severely, and peradventure more, than you now intend to do."

Encouraged in this manner, and resolved to strike an effectual blow, they commenced their investigations respecting the character and deeds of the Lord Chancellor. Unhappily, here also they found an ample field for the work of reform. The result is well known. Charges of extensive bribery were brought against him. It was al leged that he had received money and other presents, to the amount of many thousand pounds, while causes in chancery were depending on his decision. As to these charges Bacon made a general acknowledgment of guilt. With this confession the parliament was wholly unsatisfied. Determined to humble the greatest man of their time, they demanded an explicit confes sion in detail of each act of corruption. Power they knew was in their hands. A weak, vain, and silly, though learned monarch, trembled before them. They had commenced a process which could terminate only in the fall of the reigning sovereign; and they resolved that the highest man in the realm should feel the weight of their power. Bacon made them an ingenuous, frank, full, and most mortifying confession of guilt, and bowed himself before the representa tives of the people. He acknowledged his guilt in twenty-eight articles, specified the amount he had received, detailed, as far as was then practicable, the circumstances, and left himself at the mercy of an indignant parliament. "For extenuation," says he, "I will use none concerning the matters themselves; only it may please your lordships, out of your nobleness, to cast your eyes of compassion upon my person and estate. I was never noted for an avaricious man; and the apostle saith that covetousness is the root of all evil. I hope also that your lordships do the rather find me in a state of grace; for that in all these particulars, there are few or none that are not almost two years old; whereas those that are in the habit of corruption do commonly wax worse; so that it hath pleased God to prepare me by precedent degrees of amendment to my present penitency; and for my estate, it is so mean and poor, as my care is now chiefly to satisfy my debts." Being asked by a committee of

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the House of Lords whether this was his true and real confession, he used the following noble and touching language: "My lords, it is my act, my hand, my heart; I beseech your lordships to be merciful to a broken reed." The sentence for the crime is well known.

We have no wish to justify these deeply humiliating and disgraceful crimes. We know not an instance in all history where we could weep over human weakness, as over the fall of this great

man. It is one of the thousands of instances that

everywhere meet us of human depravity-but if it fixes us in grief, and appals the soul, it shows us man scarcely "less than archangel ruined," . and arrests our thoughts not like the obscuration of a planet, or the withdrawal of the beams of a twinkling star, but with the deep melancholy which is shed over created things, when the sun

"In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds
O'er half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs."

The only way in which this offence can be in any manner palliated, is by a detail of the acknowledged circumstances of the case. 1. Bacon was distinguished for want of economy during his whole life. It is clear, as he says, that he was not an avaricious man," but his great error was a love of office and honor; his great foible a fondness for display. This fondness had involved him in debts which he was unable to pay. 2. The affairs of his domestic economy, it appears, ne entrusted to servants, who were regardless of expense, and probably unconcerned about the dignity, virtue, or solvency of their master. One article of the charge against him was, that "the lord chancellor hath given way to great exactions by his servants." To this he replies, "I confess it was a great fault of neglect in me, that I looked no better to my servants." 3. It is indisputable that Bacon was not enriched by these bribes. 4. It is more than probable, that Bacon only followed a custom which until that time had been regarded as no violation of the oath of the lord chancellor. Hume affirms that "it had been usual for former chancellors to take presents.' If this was the case, it lessens greatly the enor mity of the crime. It also casts much light on the character of the parliament which was thus resolved to make him a victim. 5. It is said that the presents which Bacon received did in no instance influence his decisions. It was never alleged, even by parliament, that he had given an unjust or erroneous sentence. None of his decisions were ever reversed; and it is affirmed that he "had given just decrees against those very persons from whom he had received the wages

of iniquity."* It is further to be remarked, that of the twenty-eight charges of corruption against Bacon, but seven occurred during the existence of the suit. It remains yet to be demonstrated-a thing which he did not acknowledge, and which neither the witnesses in the case, nor the nature of his decisions proved, that even those presents influenced in the least his decisions. The more we contemplate the case of Bacon, the more we are disposed to think that injustice has been done to his character. We believe, in relation to the errors and failings of the men of those times-of such men as Calvin, and Cranmer, and Luther, and Bacon, that men have pronounced sentence with a severity drawn rather from the present views of morals, than from the sober estimate which we ought to make, if thrown into the circumstances of their times. This we think particularly true with regard to the crime of Bacon. While we feel assuredly, that crimes such as those with which he was charged, deserve the abhorrence of mankind, and go to impair and destroy all justice in the administration of laws, we are still inclined to look upon the errors of that age, and in those circumstances, with less severity than we should be disposed to apply in the more enlightened periods of the world.

It is not easy to form an estimate of Bacon's religious character. We are favored with so few and imperfect details of his private habits; we have so little that tells us the true biography of the man-his feelings, his usual deportment, his private modes of action; we are let so little into the interior arrangements of his life, that we cannot easily pronounce on his personal character. Charity would lead us to hope, notwithstanding his fondness for preferment, and the great error of his life, that he may have exemplified in his private life the principles which he has so ably and so constantly inculcated. On the subject of his religious opinions he has left us no room to doubt. There is scarcely to be found in any language, or in any writer, so constant a reference to the great religious interests of man, as in the writings of Bacon. There is no where to be found a more profound deference to the authority of the Bible. There is perhaps no where more caution displayed, lest the profoundness, variety, compass, and originality of investigation, should lead the mind astray, than in his investigations. It was one of his recorded sentiments-one of the results of his investigations, which he has expressed without hesitancy or qualification, “that a little philosophy inclineth a man to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds

* Hume.