THE CAVOUR MONUMENT GIVEN TO ME.
I hurry over these things quickly as they come to me and as my memory has retained them after many years, without searching amongst letters, newspapers, or elsewhere, wishing, as I have done until now, to make use only of my memory.
The new Giunta, presided over by my illustrious and lamented friend Count Federigo Sclopis, took up this tangled affair, discussed in so many ways, and came to the determination of not having any more competition. They decided that the best thing to be done was to choose an artist, and order the work directly from him, leaving him free to determine the rendering of the subject, the size of the monument, the materials to be employed, and choice of the site, and all other matters, except, naturally, as to price and time,—which latter could be but short, owing to the two years that had passed in competitions! The choice fell on me, who was a thousand miles away from thinking of such a thing. However, before saying a word to me, and much less, writing to me, I was interrogated by a most estimable person if I would accept that work, and I answered at once that I would not: in the first place, because the subject was a difficult one, on account of its purely political significance,—so extraneous, not to say tiresome, to my nature and studies; in the second place, because, having been one of the judges on that commission, it did not seem delicate to accept it; and finally, because I thought Vela's design most praiseworthy. But neither my refusal nor the reasons I put forth availed to alter the resolution they had now taken to make me accept the work, which, for the matter of that, if it presented great difficulties, and even rather rough ones, in the rendering of its great conception, yet offered a most rare opportunity, that would have flattered many other artists of more ambitious hope than I, who have always been temperate. With all this, however, I should always have replied in the negative, had not a gentle and most noble lady begged me to accept, touching on certain family affections that have always found in me an echo of assent.
I ACCEPT THE COMMISSION.
I accepted this commission, therefore, not blinding myself to the great difficulties that I was going to encounter, or the many little annoyances that I should undergo on account of the disappointed hopes of those who had competed for the work. I saw and felt all the seriousness of my undertaking, and thought of nothing else but carrying it out most conscientiously. I asked for eight years' time, which will not appear much, to execute the work; but I was begged to be satisfied with six, and I wrote my adhesion, still declaring in the contract that it would be impossible for me to complete it in that short time. Although I worked with all possible energy, and provided myself with additional workmen besides my own usual ones, yet the monument could not be finished and put in its place until after the eight years that I had asked for.
DESCRIPTION OF MY DESIGN.
My composition of the architectural part of the monument was a quadrangular base, with two spherical bodies on each side, whereon reposed another base, with the corners cut off, that sustained the principal group of Italy and Cavour. In front, on the lower base, is the half-reclining figure representing Right in the act of rising, who leans with the right hand on a broken yoke, and clenches the left on his breast in a menacing attitude. His head and back are covered by a lion's skin, signifying that right is strength. Opposite is Duty, in a quiet attitude of repose. His head is crowned by a wreath of olives, signifying that in the fulfilment of duty peace is to be found; his right elbow rests on a block, where, on the two sides exposed to view, are sculptured in bas-relief the two extremes of human activity. On one of these there is a king distributing a crown and prizes to a virtuous man, whilst behind him there is a chained delinquent undergoing his penalty; and on the other there is a husbandman ploughing the ground. On the two lateral sides there are two groups. That on the right is of Politics, with two little genii, Revolution and Diplomacy. Politics is seated, but alert, and almost in the act of rising: her head is turned to the little genius of Diplomacy, who has unfolded the treaties of 1815, and is gravely showing it to her with his right hand, whilst with his left he hides behind him a sword and olive-branch, demonstrating that he brings with him either war or peace. The other little genius of Revolution, in the act of wishing to dash forward, is held back by Politics, who keeps her eyes on him, and, with a caressing expression, tries to temper his ardour; one of his feet rests on a fragment of medieval architecture, and he holds in his right hand a brand, the symbol of destruction. The group on the left is of Independence, tightly clasping in her embrace the little genius of the Provinces, at whose feet still lies a link of his chain of captivity. Independence has Roman sandals on her feet, and a warrior's helmet on her head; her right arm is uplifted, and she holds a broken chain in her hand, in the act of dashing it from her. The other genius is that of Unity, crowned by an oak-wreath; he holds the fasces, to show that union is strength. The principal group stands up on the top, and represents Cavour, wrapped in his funereal mantle. Italy, at his side, in the act of rising from her prostration, is offering him the civic crown, with expressions of gratitude, more decidedly expressed by her left arm, by which she holds her great politician tenderly around the waist; whilst he, with kindly act, shows the people a chart, on which is written his famous formula, "Libera Chiesa in libero Stato," or free Church in free State. On the two façades of the great base are two bas-reliefs in bronze. In one of these is portrayed the return from the Crimea of the Sardinian troops, who, by Cavour's advice, took part, in union with France and England, in the war against Russia, to put a check to the ambitious designs of that Power in the East. The other bas-relief represents the Congress of Paris, where for the first time, on account of Cavour, Italy's voice was listened to.
DESCRIPTION OF THIS MONUMENT.
The architectural part is made in rose granite of Baveno; the ornaments—that is to say, the arms, cornices, and trophies—and the statues are in clear white marble of Canal Grande, which withstands all attacks of weather. The entire monument is elevated on three steps, and surrounded by a garden enclosed by railing.
The inscriptions are: On the front, "To Cammillo Cavour, born in Turin the 10th of August 1810, died the 6th of June 1861." On the side over the Politics, "Audace prudente;" over the Independence, "L'Italia libero;" and behind, "Gli Italiani, auspice Torino." These inscriptions are by Professor Michele Coppino.