Sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen at 250

A visual artist who played duets with Mendelssohn, a commoner who held the king of Bavaria in thrall, a largely unschooled man who drew the attention of Sir Walter Scott, and a Lutheran who won papal commissions, sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen was the most sought after Icelander of the 19th century. Today, 250 years after his birth, his bronze self-portrait is the only statue of a sculptor in a New York City park, standing in the East Meadow of Central Park. This statue shows him standing with his 1817 creation, Hope. “In essence, Thorvaldsen created a sculpture of a sculptor sculpting a sculpture,” in the words of one commentator.

Bertel Thorvaldsen's self-portrait
leaning on the goddess Hope.

Bertel Thorvaldsen was born at Grønngade 7 in Copenhagen on November 19, 1770, the son of an Icelandic woodcarver, Gottskálk Thorvaldsen, and his Danish wife, Karen Dagnes (sometimes referred to as Karen Grønlund, which may derive from a household where she worked as a servant). Bertel’s paternal grandfather was Rev. Þorvaldur Gottskálksson, priest of the church at Miklabær in Blönduhlíð, and his great-grandfather, also called Gottskálk, was known as a gifted woodworker and artist. Following Þorvaldur’s death, the younger Gottskálk and his siblings, Ari and Ólöf, moved to Copenhagen, although his sister appears to have later returned to Iceland. Gottskálk earned his living as a woodcarver, creating ornamentation for ships, and Bertel initially followed in his footsteps.

Growing up, he was “somewhat lazy and indifferent” as a student under the tutelage of Rev. Christian Frederik Høyer, a teacher and chaplain at Holmens Kirke, who nevertheless sat him at the head of his class after Bertel won a silver medal from the Royal Danish Academy of Art. A ship’s captain persuaded his father to let him study art on a part-time basis and Bertel won additional awards and recognition, and he was finally awarded a scholarship to study for three years in Rome. He arrived there on March 8, 1797, speaking only Danish, and while he was somewhat popular, he wasn’t especially productive. As the time for him to return to Denmark approached, having accomplished nothing, he began work on a model of Jason, which he destroyed. He made a second model and, on the very day he was to leave, he received a commission from Sir Thomas Hope to carve Jason in marble.

Instead of returning home, he remained in Rome for nearly another four decades, establishing himself as the leading sculptor in Europe. The commissions flowed in and he established a large studio with several apprentices to keep up with the work. Under the patronage of Baron Herman Schubart, Denmark’s ambassador to Naples, Bertel gained access to many of the leading personalities of the day. “He became a great favorite and was lionized by the ladies,” according to Hólmfríður Danielson. “This is not so strange for although he was almost totally without a formal education, he was by now well self-educated, and his grace and charm of manner made him a delightful companion.”

Ceramic replicas of Thorvaldsen's bas-reliefs
are often found on old Icelandic graves,
such as this depiction of Summer in
the churchyard at Tjörn on Vatnsnes

He visited Denmark in 1819, touring the continent en route, and was received as a national hero. While there, he received the commission to create the statuary for Vor Frue Kirke (Church of Our Lady), the new national cathedral erected to replace the one that had been destroyed when the English Navy attacked Copenhagen in 1807. This led to his Christus and the twelve apostles, as well as a baptismal font that he created as a personal gift for the cathedral. 

Bertel Thorvaldsen is remembered as an exemplar of the neo-classical tradition. Hómlfríður Danielson observed that “although Thorvaldsen was undeniably bound by tradition and a classicist in his art there was a rich creative element in his handling of the subject matter, which is evident in his works.”

In 1837, Bertel gave his personal collection of his work to Copenhagen – a collection consisting of about 150 statues, 200 busts, and 350 bas-reliefs. He returned to the city to live in 1839. A campaign was launched to build a suitable facility to house the collection and the Thorvaldsen Museum was opened in 1848. Back in Copenhagen, Bertel lived in a flat at Charlottenborg Palace, the home of the Royal Danish Academy of Art, which he served as a councillor. His household included two widows, one of their daughters, and a young sculptor. He died on March 24, 1844, and his remains are entombed in the courtyard of the museum.

Describing the sense of awe inspired by Bertel Thorvaldsen’s work, Hólmfríður Danielson eloquently wrote: “As we stand in awe and admiration before the greatest works of arts we are lifted up into a higher sphere, as it were, and we realize that too much and too often we are concerned with the trivial, the petty things of life, instead of opening our minds to the lasting beauties that have been created by God and by man.”

Matthías Jochumsson, Iceland’s national poet and hymnist

Naturally enough, one of the most familiar Icelandic songs to the ears of people of Icelandic descent in North America is the country’s national anthem, Ó guð vors lands, which is routinely sung at community gatherings. It is a hauntingly beautiful tune and, while most English-speaking descendants don’t understand the words, it’s common to see people standing a little more erect when the crescendo arrives with “Íslands þúsand ár” – “Iceland’s thousand years!”

Ó gud vors lands was composed as a hymn to mark the millennium of the settlement of Iceland in 1874. It was played publicly for the first time on August 2 that year in Dómkirkjan, the National Cathedral, where the congregation included King Christian IX, who was on a royal visit to present Iceland with a new constitution. The lyrics, which are based on Psalm 90, were written by Rev. Matthías Jochumsson, a popular minister, poet, and playwright, while the tune was composed by Sveinbjörn Sveinbjörnsson (1847-1927), a onetime theology student who turned to the study of music. The anthem came together in Edinburgh, Scotland, where Matthías was visiting Sveinbjörn, who was living there at the time, although there is good reason to believe that Matthías had already been working on the poem while still in Iceland.

Rev. Matthías Jochumsson died a century ago – on November 18, 1920 – a week after his 85th birthday, on which the University of Iceland honoured him with a doctorate of theology. He was only the third recipient of such an honour from the university.

Matthías was born on November 11, 1835, at Skógar in Þorskafjörður, a now abandoned farm at the entryway to the Westfjords. The son of Jochum Magnússon and Þóra Einarsdóttir, he grew up in relative poverty and intended to pursue a career in business, attending a commercial college in Copenhagen and working as a shopkeeper at Flatey in Breiðafjörður. He enrolled in Latínuskólann in Reykjavík (now Menntaskólinn), where he was one of the older students among his peers, before proceeding to Prestaskólinn, the theological college.

Matthías began his ministry at the churches in Brautarholt and Saubær, both on Kjalarnes, north of Reykjavík, which he served from 1866 until he went abroad in 1872. Returning to Iceland in 1874, he worked as editor of the newspaper Þjóðólfur until 1880, when he resumed his ministry at the churches at Oddi and Keldur in Rangárvallasýsla. In 1886, he accepted a call to the church at Akureyri, where he remained until his retirement in 1899. Matthías was one of the most liberal Icelandic ministers of his generation, holding Unitarian theological views while remaining within the Lutheran Church of Iceland, paving the way for the Ný guðfræði – the “New Theology” that dominated the Church of Iceland during the first half of the 20th century.

While still a student, he wrote the play Útilegumennirnir (The Outlaws), better known today after its lead character, Skugga-Sveinn, which remains among the most popular dramatic works in Iceland. He was also a prolific translator of poetry, prose, and plays, and his work includes the standard Icelandic versions of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, and Romeo and Juliet. In addition to writing his own hymn texts, he translated or interpreted the hymns of others, the most noteworthy examples being Hljóða nótt (one of the Icelandic versions of Silent Night) and Ó þá náð að eiga Jesú (What a Friend We Have in Jesus).

Matthías was married three times, but his first two wives, Elín and Ingveldur, died tragically young – losses that had a deep impact on this sensitive man’s life and worldview. (His first marriage lasted less than a month; his second, less than a year.) In 1875, he married Guðrún Runólfsdóttir, who was nearly 16 years younger than him, and they had 11 children, all but two of whom lived to adulthood.

He was well travelled for an Icelander in the 19th century. He attended school in Copenhagen during the winter of 1856 to 1857 and lived abroad in Denmark, Norway, and the United Kingdom from 1872 to 1874. He also travelled in retirement, visiting Scandinavia in 1905 and 1912. His most memorable adventure abroad, from the perspective of North Americans, was his trip to participate in the World Parliament of Religions during the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893, which was followed by a tour of the Icelandic communities in the Upper Midwest and Western Canada. In fact, he was the featured speaker at Íslendingadagurinn in 1893.

While Matthías is most widely remembered for his national anthem, he is more fully recognized as one of the literary giants of 19th century Iceland – a great poet and playwright, an inspiring educator and religious leader, and a profoundly sensitive soul.