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astonishment, and who must have a demi wood

up

the ladder. He hadn't had any gol for nothing short of a demi-god can thing so rich since the old rebellion days fill up their capabilities of loving. The glit at college. He flattered, and joked, and ter and the glare of great personal beauty, visited among the outsiders, and was seen astonishing powers, and irresistible man gallanting some of the oddest dressed creaners, envelope them, and they are lost. tures to church-solely for Dashwood's

Louise, woman-like, first loved him, and sake, he said. He would take giggling then began to search about for reasons to country lasses on his arms, and supply sustain her. She loved him, first, because the babies with gingerbread, and keep she could not help it, and because amid mammas posted up in the news, solely beall his fickleness he was true to her. He cause some day Dashwood might need was as steady in love, as he was unstable popularity: Of course, Robert upheld in every thing else. True, my sister was Louise in her preference for her brilliant enough to fill a poet's eye, yet it must have and meteor-like lover; and he sustained been flattering to her, to see this man an her nobly, in trying times, when grandma chored, you may say, at her feet.

He and papa would call her to account for renever swerved from her, or pretended to fusing Farren again and again. Grandma love another, or deigned to think there was really awed by Tom Farren. She newas any thing loveable in any other wo ver raised her eyes to him without thinkman under the sun. Let him be politi- ing of three hundred negroes, five plancian, lawyer, poet, or dandy, his love for tations, his uncle, Governor Farren, two her remained the same.

This was his dwelling houses, and perspective winters great redeeming grace. What young lady in Washington. Our dear mamma, though of eighteen could withstand poetry, law, still and placid, and seldom obtruding her oratory, grace, fashion, great personal opinions before folks, had, nevertheless, a beauty, and most of all, constancy, com strong dash of romance in her composition, bined? What southern beauty, spoilt by which all the Rushton practicability could over-indulgence, never knowing the want not entirely eradicate. Papa had no more of money or of friends, kept in seclusion, poetry in him than a vice; he had so and guarded from all the ills that flesh is ridiculed all such nonsense, so preached heir to, would not have loved this flashing against novel reading, so railed against Dashwood ?

Byron, so laughed at Dickens, and so comThere are many, older and more experi- pletely annihilated Thackeray, that mamenced than our beautiful sister, who would ma had to withdraw her opinions and rehave yielded to his power.

tire within herself. She was forced to Tom Farren-upright, economical, well read her favorite authors in her own room, balanced, systematic, money-making, plan to weep over Effie Deans and Byron's tation-managing Tom Farren, detested sad effusions in secret. The timid woman our poor Dashwood. He would be ready took a mother's pride in seeing her own to say “fudge" at the bare mention of his smouldering embers of poetry and sentiname. He could see nothing but folly ment burning defiantly and glowing inand consummate assurance in all he said tensely in the magnanimous Robert, and and did. He wondered how people could the tender Louise. tolerate such a man, who was, in fact, no She nourished them with her treasured man at all. How Robert and, most of all, books, she imbued them with her poetry, Louise, could listen to him him with any she sketched for them the wonders of the patience.

realms of thought; she read to them of There had been a talk among the sov the inner life; she talked to them of cloudereigns who adored and petted Dashwood, land and the yearnings of the heart; she of sending him to Congress, some day; held up before their eyes a beautiful world but the neighboring gentry and landhold which they could make their own; she ers were in favor of Farren. Robert, too, purified them from the dross, and bade who was a mighty man among the young them throw off the earthy particles with girls and old maids in the neighborhood, contempt; she aroused imagination, and and patronized incipient dandies, and car beheld with delight the mighty giant rearried on with old ladies and gossips at a ing its magnificent head. She thought high rate, was heart and soul for Dash she was arming them for the battle of wood. He declared Virginia hadn't given life; she thought there were moments of such a son to the world since she favored darkness and gloom for all, and that these mankind with John Randolph, and always treasures would lighten them ; she thought, excused every vagary of his friend, by a dear mother, of woman in her solitude, dark and oracular allusion to the “ embalmed within her narrow, wearying tricities of genius.” It was a rare frolic sphere, of her long, dark, hopeless hours, to Robert, this wheedling human nature, of her isolation and loneliness, of the winand enticing poor gullibility, to help Dash ter days and winter nights, after the gay

eccen

summer should be o'er, and she gave her treasures, that they might comfort and beautiful daughters these, her hidden beguile her then.

(To be continued.)

PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF THORWALDSEN. IT

is seldom that we hear much about a never saw any where else, but in the ma

man without forming some idea of his jectic face of Cuvier. He rose from his personal appearance, and it is still more seat as my landlady mentioned my name, seldom that this idea bears any resem and shook my hand very cordially, with blance to the original. In this respect I a few courteous expressions, which I rahave always looked upon myself as very ther guessed at than understood; for my lucky in my first sight of Thorwaldsen; Italian was very imperfect, and he, though for the impression which I had carried he had an exquisite ear for music, had neaway from my first hasty glance at his ver succeeded in throwing off one of the studio, was so mixed up with the Vatican, strongest of German accents. After a and the Capitol, and baths and monuments minute or two he resumed his conversaand temples, and the thousand wonders tion with the landlady, and I sat down to that crowd upon you during a first visit to look at him at my leisure. I had obRome, that I had scarcely asked myself served when he rose to shake hands with whether the long line of statues and bas me, that though his frame was large, he reliefs which I had passed before in those was not tall; and now I could note the calm vast halls in the piazza Barberini, was the dignity of his manner, his easy self-possesproduction of a living man or was some old sion, and the peculiar character which his museum under repair. One evening, while long full locks gave to every movement my mind was still in this delightful state, of his head. I had seen great men before, I came home somewhat later than usual generals, statesmen, historians and philoto the pleasant little circle which time and sophers, and heard them talk freely about the chances of life have now scattered far great things, but never before had I seen and wide, and hurried into the drawing a man whose presence impressed me so room, to try my new stock of phrases directly with the sense of greatness. In upon any unfortunate wight that would Rome, kings and princes are very little have the patience to hear his own beauti things. I have seen them drive through ful language mutilated for the profit of a the streets and not a dozen heads turn to stranger whom he might never see again. give them a second look. Nothing seems There were very few in the room, but to produce a permanent impression there there was the old card-table in one cor but the creations of the mind, and those ner, with its usual occupants, the talka conceptions which, passing into the outtive abbé and my good-natured landlord; ward life of great deeds, show how closely Monsignore in his arm-chair, the young all the higher forms of intellect are allied ladies in eager chat with my fellow board together. The great poet is a great man er, all, in short, but the landlady, in their there, and the great artist still more so, accustomed places, and she evidently from his more intimate connection with doing her best to entertain a visitor whom the daily wants and enjoyments of the I had never seen there before. He was a city. Canova had been dead several years, plain-dressed man, apparently past sixty, and now not even the most bigoted with a clear, fresh complexion, that appa could deny that Thorwaldsen was the rently owed something to the sun of Italy, greatest of living artists. And there he though there was no mistaking its trans sat, conscious, yet simple in all his glory, alpine origin,-features irregular, but and talking as cheerfully about the trifles massive and strong ; in spite of the thin of the hour as if he had never dreamed of ness of the lips and the defective outline immortality of the nose, a full blue eye, clear and soft Several years passed before I saw him and bright, and yet with an occasional again, and the measure of his glory, alreadreaminess that seemed to rise from some dy so full, had become fuller still. But unseen depths, like those dreamy clouds now I could meet him under better austhat start forth all of a sudden from the pices; for I could understand him in spite depths of a summer's sky, giving a sort of his accent, and make myself understood. of hazy softness to what, a moment be The first evening that I passed in his comfore, was pure and liquid blue, and with a pany, there was a good deal of singing, general expression of serene and thought- and I was very much amused to see how ful repose upon his lips and brow that I

heartily he joined in the chorus. A

Scotchman who was present, was called to be speaking of birth-places and ages. upon for a Scotch song, and after ex “Oh," said he, “when any body asks me plaining to the company when the chorus when I was born, I always say in 1796." would begin, gave us "Auld lang syne !" “Why so, Signor Commendatore ?" his In a few moments they had caught the usual title. “Because it was in 1796 that air, and though there were only three or I came to Rome, and that is the true date four in the room who could make any of an artist's birth."

“ Bartolini, you thing out of the words, carried it through know, does not accept that doctrine, and with great spirit. It was amusing to ob says, that if nature has marked you out serve Thorwaldsen. He was a passionate for an artist, it makes no difference whethlover of music, giving himself up to it en er you were born in the midst of Florence, tirely, and so absorbed by any thing that or in the midst of a forest." “ Nonsense. pleased him, that, as he sat motionless and Before I left Copenhagen, I had modelled close to the instrument, with his eye riveted a number of little things, as well as on the performer, and every now and then I knew how, with the little help that I something floating over it, as if some new could get there; but I had no idea of art." visions of beauty were just rising from “Suppose, however, you had staid there out that sea of harmonies, you might al till now ?” “What should I have done ? most have taken him for one of his own Made a few dry bas-reliefs and bad statstatues. But now the music was partly ues; been appointed president of the acadlost in the confusion, and the style of it emy, and director, perhaps, of some muwas not of a kind to move him very pow seum, and never produced a single thing erfully, and all that he could do was to worth looking at." watch for the chorus, and then join in and We spoke of the ancients. “I don't play the boy with the rest of us, which know what it is," said he, " but there is he did with as good a grace and pleasant something in the antique which no moda smile as if it had been the most amusing ern has ever equalled. Canova never did, thing in the world.

and I never did. What it consists in I One of the pleasantest ways of meeting cannot tell; but I never look at an old Thorwaldsen was at dinner. He was a statue without feeling it." hearty eater, and though moderate in his I had been to a studio with him a few use of wine, knew how to season his meal days before, to see a new statue before it with a cheerful glass, and grow all the was cast. The hips were too large, and more interesting for it. In winter he was after the first glance, he stepped up to the too busy with great dinners and great stand, and drew the true outline upon the folks, but in summer it was the greatest clay with his thumb. It was the work of treats to get him to come and dine with of an instant-a single glance—a rapid, you when the day's work was over, and firm movement of the hand, and there he could sit and draw out the even was a line which would have served as ing—those delicious summer evenings of well as Apelles' own to tell who had been Rome-with music and talk. Just as the there. I reminded him of it, and asked clock struck you would be sure to see him whether he had always had the same him, the clay and dust carefully washed feeling for proportion. "No," said he, off, in his standing dress suit of black, and “it is all hard study. I have had to with the air of a man who is not afraid work for it; but now a fault of proporof fettering his spiritual wings, by letting tion grates upon me like a discord in mudinner come in for its share as one of the pleasures of the day. Then, when the Some allusion was made to his early first dish was over, he was ready to talk; struggles. "It was all up hill,” said he, and nothing was easier than to bring him a slight touch of irony mingling with his to the subjects you cared most to hear usually good-natured tone. “ At first from his lips. There was nothing bril they would not allow that I could do any liant in his conversation. He gave his thing. Then they were for cutting me down opinions simply and earnestly : told his to bas-reliefs-Thorwaldsen for bas-reanecdotes without any pretension: spoke liefs, and Canova for statues. And now, readily and unaffectedly about himself: they allow, I believe, that I can make candidly of his cotemporaries: of the an statues too." His rivalry with Canova cients with the firmness of a deep-set had been long and bitter; and though the conviction; occasionally with somewhat question itself had long been decided, the of humor; and upon one or two subjects bitterness was not yet all gone. I had with an asperity which showed that, if oc occasion to observe this in speaking of a casion called for it, a vast deal of fire torch-light visit to the Vatican. Yes, might be found under the calm and placid that is one of Canova's ideas; but there dignity of his general bearing.

is no light for a statue like pure dayOn one of these occasions we happened light.”

sic."

room.

I never heard him make a deliberate

for a pleasant chat. It always seemed criticism, though he gave his judgments to me as if, from the first moment of his very freely and decidedly. “That volca waking, he must have been going through, no of Michael Angelo," I remember as an on his pillow, something like that simexpression I once heard him apply to that mering process by which Scott used to wonderful man, though I cannot remem prepare his daily chapter while dressing; ber what it was that called it forth. A for it was very evident that his correcfew years before, Raphael's bones had been tions

were, in part at least, the result of discovered, opened, and reinterred with a comparison of his morning thoughts great solemnity, the principal artists, with with the work of the preceding day. Thorwaldsen at their head, taking a prom This little studio of his, by the by, inent part in the ceremony. “I saw his and indeed the whole house, would well bones," said Thorwaldsen, in telling me of deserve a description. It is a classic spot it; and the feeling with which he uttered in art. Piranesi had once lived there, it seemed the very feeling which Irving and Canina, a great name in archæology expresses so beautifully in speaking of the and architecture, still lived on the opposite old sexton who had seen Shakspeare's; side of the court. The rooms, of course, it was something to have seen such were all on a floor, that great blessing of bones.

Italian houses, with brick floors, thick But there was one subject on which he walls, and high windows. The two first never failed to grow warm, and that was rooms, which looked on Via Sistina, were the monument of Pius VII. The canons hung close with modern paintings, some of St. Peter's had behaved very badly of them gifts, and some of them purtowards him, thwarting and teasing him chases, and which seemed naturally every way in their power; and the old enough to have come and clustered around gentleman, who was perfectly conscious him during his long life. Corresponding that he had given them, in that noble with these, but with their windows on work, the only great monument in the the court-yard, were three smaller rooms, church, could never speak of them with the two first, studios, and the third a bedpatience. After the first two or three

The first studio was for figures, words, I have seen him spring from his the other for bas-reliefs, and in this Byron chair, and pace the room rapidly. “Yes, had sat to him for his bust. The furniture taking me to task-wanting me to come to throughout was plain, neither carpets nor them like a schoolboy, and learn my les lounges, nor stuffed chairs, nor gilded son of a set of ignorant priests, not one of tables, but here and there a fragment whom could draw a nose."

from the antique, an Etruscan vase, picAnother favorable hour for visiting tures, engravings, with a fair sprinkling Thorwaldsen was in the morning. In of plaster arms, and hands and feet, and his youth, I believe, he was an early all the appropriate paraphernalia of an riser, but when I knew him you might artist's study. Next to the modelling very easily, by taking an early breakfast, stand, the principal object in the smaller find him still in bed. On these occasions studio was an old bureau, with a folding I used to go directly to the little private leaf, half chest of drawers, and half studio adjoining his bedroom, and amuse writing desk, such as still may be found myself, till he came, with looking at the in many an old house even on this side new figures on the modelling slate, or of the Atlantic. Here he used to keep the casts and engravings that covered the his rarities, his favorite drawings, his walls. Very soon, however, the bed letters, and sometimes even his money. room door would open and the old gentle Add to this, an old straw-bottomed settee, man come out in dressing-gown and slip and you have as correct a picture as my pers, with a little cap on his head, and memory can afford me of the room in every appearance of having just quit his which kings and princes came to pay pillow. A simple nod of recognition was their tribute to a greatness more endurall that you could expect, for his head ing than their own. was full of his last day's work, and till This may seem a very simple style of he had examined that carefully, not a living for a very rich man. But Thorword would he utter. But walking di waldsen's habits were always very simrectly up to his slate, he would stand for ple. In the beginning, from necessity, several minutes without moving, then and at last, from that same feeling which draw his thumb rapidly over it here has made many an old man stick to his and there, correcting a detail

, or work kneebuckles and white-topped boots, long ing in a new outline, and giving, by a few after they had given place, with all the rapid touches, an entirely new aspect to rest of the world, to straps and patent the whole composition. Then he would leather. And an artist's life in Rome is turn round, shake hands, and be ready simple, as a matter of course. A bed

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room and a studio are all that he wants studies abundant materials for rich, and
of a house; and the bedroom may be a very varied, and truthful expression.
plain one, for it is in his studio that he And if he has reached this end of all
reads, writes, works, and does every thing, his efforts, and can follow freely the sug-
in short, but eat and sleep. And even gestions of his own feelings, what a world
part of his eating may be done there too, is his. How swiftly the days glide by him,
for his breakfast is little more than coffee when each brings with it some new vision
and bread. For dinner he goes to Lepri, of beauty, or records some new step in the
or if he feel inclined to something a little development of a cherished conception.
better than usual, to the Falcone. And No sunbeam ever lighted up the landscape
then when the day's work is over he with a radiance so dazzling as that which
saunters down to the Café Greco, and gleams upon him in this dream-world,
sips his coffee in clouds of smoke from which is henceforth to be his home. No
pipes and segars innumerable, and amid strains from voice, or harpstring, or na-
the discordant clang of all the languages ture's own minstrelsy, were ever so sweet
of Europe.

as those which float around his steps, at-
A monotonous life it might seem, and tuning his mind and heart to the mysteri-
yet it is anything but monotonous. There ous harmonies which he is about to unveil
is no monotony in his day's work, for if he by the ministry of a sister art. All the trea-
is but a student, every day makes him sures of the past are gathered anew for him;
stronger in the art he loves, and reveals the deeds of its great men, the thoughts of
some beauty which he had never seen be the wise, the struggle, the triumph, and the
fore. With what delight he takes his reward; for it is through him that they are
stand before his Raphael, fits his canvas to assume new forms of grandeur and
upon the casel, spreads his pallet, re power, and become, as it were, a living pre-
touches the lines of yesterday, scans his sence for all ages. And nature opens her
copy carefully, and then turns again to treasures, and pours forth new beauties in
the original, feeling that he has got some lavish profusion, and reveals the secret of
what nearer to its spirit, though it is still her all-pervading sympathies. Yes, strug-
so far above him. I'here is a life's study gles and cares and bitter trials though
in that figure, a new revelation of the ex there be in this life of the mind-and what
pressive power of the human form, which is creative art but one of its manifold
he never felt fully till to-day, and to-mor forms—but there are hours too of proud
row he will feel it still more. And yet he consciousness and thrilling delight, when
is not discouraged by the sense of his ina the vision of truth or beauty first beams
bility to reproduce it, for he feels that the upon the intellectual age, and the indistinct
perception of it which he has now reached conception gradually expands into pure
is in itself a great gain, and that however and definite proportions, which more than
far he may always fall short of his mas atone for them all.
ter's perfection, still there is abundant re But it is not the artist's life that I have
ward for all his labors, in having learnt undertaken to describe. If I had, I would
to breathe freely on these summits of art, have told of joyous days in the vineyards
and touch as it were familiarly the hem in delicious October, of walks in early
of his garment.

spring, to catch the first sight of the alAnd then his morning studies at the mond blossom ; of twilights on the PinAcademy from the living model. He cian and sunsets from the Janiculum, with never felt the difficulty of an outline before, all Rome at your feet and the last sunnor how much power there is in a single beams sleeping with their golden glow on stroke of the pencil. Every joint and the craggy peaks of the Sabine Mounts, limb becomes the object of a new study. while the shadows steal gently over the There are untold wonders in the lights soft slopes of Albano. I should say too, and shades of the surface and varying that in those discordant tongues at the play of the muscles; the slightest change Caffé Greco, you would learn the thoughts of posture, the slightest elevation or de of the profound and earnest German, pression of a hand or an arm, the mere hear the quick and volatile Frenchman, contraction or expansion of a feature or a the Italian with his keen perceptions and limb, unfolds some new resource of his electric feelings, the grave Spaniard, who art, and contains lessons which if properly hopes some day to renew the glories of treasured up, may extend their influence Murillo, and the Russian, toiling on his through the whole of his career. Every pension for an Imperial smile and permisweek adds something to his portfolio, and sion to pass another five years in Italy. when at last he comes to draw from his Dusseldorff and Munich, Paris and St. own resources, and try to give form and Luke, meet face to face; opinions are sifted, movement to the creations of his own judgments weighed, impressions compared, imagination, he finds in these detached new works discussed, the whole field

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