MEMOIRS ANTONIO CANOVA. Edinburgh, 7 Printed by Aberncthy $ Walker. J I - A/< 6 / A ' l-nhhsh,;/ />;/ ./■! •.J A ii -/ j / j g y i>j J n y y j n j 2 is 3 /'//////.(■//.-,/ /.// f fmrthiM £< T£Jim?i9iS ^^^Mr^c^mm^c^rl^ /'»/> luhed h u . 1. , ;,„.■,/„/,/,. £ , "£Wm r ,;;■_■; | '"WZJt*,* sc ,i . LIFE OF CANOVA, CHAPTER I. Advantages of commencing with an historical view of modern sculpture — Subject proposed, and erroneous opinions combated — True causes of the revival of the arts in the 12th century — Establishment of indepen- dence by the republics of Italy — Primitive school of sculpture in Pisa — Early political constitution, and schools of art in Florence — General reflections on the style, character, and progress of sculpture during the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries — State of Italy at the beginning of the 15th century — Competition of artists at Florence — Ghiberti, Donatello, and their scholars — Venetian, Lombard, andNeapolitan schools — Florentine artists at the close of this century — Ge- neral observations on the style and character of sculp- ture at this era. At the period, when the subject of these memoirs presented himself a youthful can- didate for renown, sculpture had fallen in- A LIFE OF CANOVA. to a state, which, compared with the for- mer splendour of the art, might be term- ed one of utter degradation. The man- nerism of schools had banished the study of nature, — affectation usurped the name of grace, — sublimity was sought in exagge- rated forms, — and genius and originality seemed to have fled for ever. When the young artist arrived in Rome, this " capi- tal of art" could hardly be said to boast the presence of a single sculptor. The usual proportion of marble-cutters \ indeed, still occupied her studios, whose labours were confined to the restoration of antiques, or who might occasionally venture on a replica of some favourite statue. Great and origi- nal works, however, seemed to have been long abandoned, while the mediocrity of artists, and the illiberality of patronage, operated with reciprocal, and deteriorating effect. 1 Marbriers is the term used by Quatremere de Quincy, in speaking of the Italian sculptors at the close of the eighteenth century, a word which implies even something lower than a marble-cutter, — a stone-cutter. LIFE OF CANOVA. Amid this general corruption, Canova appeared ; his mind, by self-instruction in the school of nature, imbued with the pure principles of genuine art. By his exertions and example, concurring with influences of a less active or less obvious kind, the beauty and simplicity of ancient taste were again gradually restored, while, between his own productions, and those of early co- temporaries, a mighty interval was placed. In some degree, then, to have appreciated the abilities of Canova, his attainments and professional improvements must, at least, have been compared with the general re- finement of the age ; — to have rendered fully apparent the superiority of his genius, the adverse and unfavourable circumstan- ces, under which its early creations had been produced, were carefully to be considered ; — and his advances, to have been duly esti- mated, were to be viewed in relation to the resources of co-existing art. Still, the conclusions would have been partial, be- cause to have rested here, must have left the views incomplete. The universal de- a 2 4 LIFE OF CANOVA. clension might have been rendered evi- dent ; yet neither its progress nor extent would, with precision, have been traced. More elaborate research will not only il- lustrate these important particulars, but, while it elucidates a pleasing department of history, will supply the means of deter- mining the merits of Canova, not merely as compared with the obscure rivals of his youth, but as confronted with those illus- trious masters, whose works have marked the brightest eras of modern sculpture. Nor, in rapidly reviewing the principal vicissitudes in the history of sculpture, from the 12th to the 19th century, will the subject be wanting in the recommenda- tions of novelty. There is here, still a va- cuity in the annals of art, which no con- densed, or popular narrative yet supplies \ 1 " La scultura propriamente detta, e piu partico- larmente quella, che dai Pisani, a Canova racchiudeva il giro di sei secoli fosse rimasta finora, seza uno sto- rico" Cicognara, Storia della Scultura, torn. iii. p. 312. Ediz. 500 esemp. iii. torn. fol. Venezia. This most excellent work is the only properly historical compi- LIFE OF CANOV-A. In this review, the order of time only will be regarded, to the exclusion of all artificial divisions into epochs, — ages, — states, by which chronology has been confused, and art not illustrated \ In tracing the progress of individual intel- lect, it is frequently easy to determine a period, whence a conspicuous change in its operations and productions may be dated. The march of general improvement is more equable ; and it is rarely possible, without violence, to class its gradations under the often, imaginary distinctions of arbitrary arrangement. The decline and revival of the arts in the West, have been ascribed too exclusively lation on the subject; but as is sagely inquired, in speaking of this very book, A present, qui Use des tomes en folio? An. des Savans — 1819. 1 Thus Agincourt has placed Donatello in what he terms " the first age of the revival," and Ghiberti in " the second," an arrangement which would natural- ly lead to the conclusion, that Ghiberti was the young- er ; whereas they were not only cotemporaries, but Donatello was considerably the junior. But to multi- ply instances would be as easv, as it would be tedious. 6 LIFE OF CANOVA. to those great events, which successively changed both the political, and literary a- spect of this portion of Europe — the in- vasion of the Goths, — and the fall of Con- stantinople. From various causes of partial judg- ment, it has usually been considered, that the occupation of Italy by the barba- rous warriors who overthrew the Roman power, was followed, in every part of the western empire, by the total extinction of learning and refinement. On the other hand, the re-appearance of the arts in the twelfth, and their succeeding splendour in the fifteenth century, have been attributed, — the former to the occasional influx of Greek artists, — the latter to the misfor- tunes of the eastern capital, which forced her natives to seek an asylum in Italy, where they at once diffused the light of philosophy, and the elegance of art \ 1 Vasari is generally quoted as an original authority in support of these opinions. His assertions, in this instance, must be limited to his own art, and even then are without proofs. This write] maj kx depended on LIFE OF CANOVA. In opposition to these opinions, how- ever, it may be shewn, — that, in Italy, nei- ther the monuments of ancient taste were destroyed, nor living science exterminated by its conquerors ; — that, in the various principalities into which this country was subsequently divided, the arts were never entirely extinct, and were always cultiva- ted chiefly by natives ; — that, in the schools of Tuscany, prior to the final disasters of the eastern capital, the arts had attained a de- gree of eminence, which, in some respects, has never been excelled. In every part of the Roman empire, for ages antecedent to the invasion of its west- ern provinces, the powers of genius, as well as military virtue, and moral worth, had been rapidly declining. In the remoter divisions, where improvement had neither been so universal, nor purity of taste so long preserved by the monuments of better when speaking of cotemporaries, or of such transac- tions as he may have been personally engaged in. On other occasions, he frequently details loose traditions, without having properly examined their grounds. 8 LIFE OF CANOVA. days ; this decline was greatly accelerated, and the feeble remains of civilization quick- ly overwhelmed by the succeeding deluge of barbarism. But, in Italy, the inhabitants were more generally enlightened, and more firmly attached to the cultivation of elegant accomplishment in letters and in art. Though no longer capable of ri- valling the sublime productions of their ancestors, they still aspired to imitate those models of excellence, which they more a- bundantly possessed than others, and which served, not less to preserve knowledge, than to excite emulation ', Their conquerors also, were less ignorant and brutal than those, by whom the more distant portions of the dismembered empire were finally occupied. They had principally been edu- cated in the armies of Rome ; — they spoke her language ; — they venerated her gran- 1 The ruins of the palace of Theodoric, at Terracina, though of different materials, evidently shew that the edifice has been constructed on the model of similar buildings of the classic ages, of which the situations resembled. The above is only one of many instances. LIFE OF CANOVA. 9 deur, — but they despised her weakness ; and their ambition seized what their valour had rashly been entrusted to defend. When the fury of contest had passed, therefore, — when conquest was secure, — they were dis- posed rather to encourage, than to suppress the arts and studies of their more cultiva- ted, but un warlike subjects; — to admire, ra- ther than destroy the vestiges of still bright- er periods. Even in northern Italy, and in the south of Gaul, seminaries were esta- blished, where such learning as was then valued, received encouragement and pro- tection \ Whatever may have been the fate of those arts, the materials and productions 1 To quote all the authorities by which the reason- ing in the text is supported, would be tedious as well as unnecessary. The following may be referred to : — Gibbon, Decline, passim, last vol. more particularly ; Robertson, History of Char. V. vol. i. ; David, Ess. sur l'Art Statuaire; Cicognara, Stor. del Scult., torn, i.; Hist, de Fr. P. les Benedict. ; Bargaeus ap. Grsev., torn, iv.; Cassiodorus, pass. ; Murat. Ant. d'ltalia; Let- ters of Theodoric, &c. &c. Theodoric used to style the monuments of antiquity, " the books of the world." 10 LIFE OF CANOVA. of which are of a more perishable nature, as well as more purely ornamental, their superior utility, and intimate union, preser- ved, in some degree of reputation, the kin- dred studies of architecture, and of sculp- ture. Both, though in very different states of perfection, were alike necessary to main- tain the gloomy magnificence of the feudal baron, as formerly to gratify the polished elegance of the Roman patrician. Accord- ingly, we trace a very early and almost con- tinuous cultivation of those arts, in the mo- numents of Naples, of Pisa, of Venice, of Orvieto, of Siena, and of other cities, the an- tiquities of which unite as it were the re- cords of ancient, with the history of modern Italy. If, as authors of some of these monu- ments, there occur names of doubtful ori- gin, or claimed by Greece, — Italians, more numerous, and equally illustrious, all pre- vious to the conclusion of the twelfth cen- tury, prove, that even thus early, their countrymen were not inferior in art to the subjects of the Byzantine emperors \ Dur- 1 Of these early artists may be mentioned the names LIFE OF CANOVA. 1 1 ing the period of the Crusades, indeed, the Latins who resorted to that court, have been stigmatised by female petulance, and by the arrogance of vain sophists, as barbarians, whose very names would contaminate the " beauty of history V But in the unpreju- diced estimation of the neighbouring na- tions, the Italians, at this time, were respect- ed as a polished and martial people, alike renowned for their desire of knowledge, and their love of liberty. Nor is it necessary to have recourse to collateral arguments. The practice of sculpture is authenticated by monuments still existing ; and from the of Bonani, Diotisalvi, Antelami, Beduini, Gramonti, Viligelmi, &c. 1 Anna Comnena is the lady referred to in the text. See Alexias apud Script. Byzant., vol. xi. pp. 224-37. Nicetas Choniatus, Script. Byz., vol. iii. p. 300, &c. is still more severe. In fact, all the Greek writers of this, and succeeding periods, affect an air of superiori- ty. The Greeks were in that state when indolent luxury and effeminacy are mistaken for refinement. For a very opposite character, see the cotemporary writer, Jacobus de Vitriaco, a Frenchman, Histor. Hierosol., vol. ii. sub fin. 12 LIFE OF CANOVA. manufactures which early formed lucrative branches of commerce in the free states of Italy, there is reason to believe, that the other arts were not neglected. Mosaic, for instance, so closely united with, or rather dependent on the arts of design, — from its first introduction in the time of Sylla, to the age of Nicholas of Pisa, exercised in Italy, and by Italian artists, can distinctly be traced. When, after a long interval, light began to break on the darkness of Western Eu- rope, Italy had already emerged from the gloom. In the maxims of political wis- dom, — in just notions of civil liberty, — in the knowledge of trade and commerce, — in the practice of the mechanical and libe- ral arts, she preceded Germany — France — England, by several centuries. Whence originated this priority in the career of im- provement, save from a less degree of pre- vious barbarism? To assume any other as a principal cause, only removes the dif- ficulty one step. She thus started in the course, from vantage ground ; — her mental LIFE OF CANOVA. 13 horizon had still faintly glowed with the departing ray, when to surrounding na- tions, the sun of science had long set. Nor was this a reflected or borrowed splendour. We have seen that in rearing the most an- cient monuments of modern art, Italians were employed ; and it would be easy to shew, that in those of the same age in the East, they were not excelled '. Whatever, therefore, might have been the numbers of Byzantine artists, who at different periods 1 The arts in the eastern empire suffered a rapid de- clension. In the ninth century, a monk of the Greek church could represent on the palace-walls of a Bul- garian prince, the tortures of the damned with such horrible fidelity and force, that what his preaching could not effect, his pencil produced, — the conversion of the barbarian to Christianity. In the thirteenth century, the Greek painters could just trace a feeble outline, somewhat resembling the human form, " with," to use Vasari's words, " staring eyes, like one possess- ed, open hands, and standing on tiptoe." " Con occhi spiritati, e mani aperte, in punta di piedi." Proem, della Parte i. delle Vite, &c. Vita di Cimabue, Le Brun, Hist, du Bas Empire. Remains of eastern art of this period, are to be found in Italy, in a most wretched taste. 14 LIFE OF CANOVA. resorted to Italy, they only assisted, with- out surpassing, indigenous talent. That, during the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- turies, more books and more learning were included within the walls of Constanti- nople, than could be found in the cities of the West, may be admitted or denied ' ; but assuredly the country which could then boast the names of Dante, — of Petrarch, — of Boccacio % stood high in the scale of in- tellectual refinement, and in the honours of native genius could fear no competition of her eastern rival. Still more to our pre- sent purpose, a greater number of inge- nious people, and more useful industry, animated the Italian republics of this era, than were contained within the pale of the Byzantine empire 3 . At a more recent 1 Mosheim, Instit. Histor. Eccles. Of the fact of the books, there can be little question : the learning ad- mits of a doubt. * The first was born in 1265 — died in 1321 ;— the second in 1304—1374; and the third in 1313—1376. 3 Gibbon, Decline and Fall, &c. vol. xii. cap. 66. p. 118. 8vo edit. LIFE OF CANOVA. 15 period, far from requiring the aid of fo- reign science, Italy was adorned with the noblest edifices, — the erections of her own opulence and arts ; and her free cities could exhibit productions, — unequalled in the capital of the East. When the fall of the latter forced the most enlightened and accomplished of her sons to seek asylums in a foreign land, in Italy they disseminated no new or useful acquirement, — save the knowledge of their glorious tongue. Their misfortunes were so far from advancing the progress of western art, that some of its happiest efforts were already accomplish- ed. Brunelleschi had reared, on the banks of the Arno, the cupola of Saint Mary's '. Ghiberti had cast his " celestial doors ;" and a future path was thus opened to still mightier names, while the walls of Con- stantinople stood yet inviolate by the Mos- lem. It thus remains to explain, on a more tenable principle than occasional accessions 1 The Cathedral of Florence is so called. 16 LIFE OF CANOVA. of Greek artists, the very visible improve- ment, which in the course of the twelfth century is to be observed in Italian art. Revolutions which permanently affect the habits or character of a people, can be pro- duced by great internal changes only. For such, then, we must search in the present instance. When the nations that had subdued the western empire, were fixed in their new set- tlements, their ignorance might have been enlightened by the superior refinement of the conquered, while they grafted their own energetic virtues on the degenerate na- tives. Unfortunately for this mutual ame- lioration, throughout the whole extent of their conquests, with uniformity truly sur- prising, a species of government was esta- blished, than which, no institution could be more opposed to individual happiness, or to general improvement '. The feudal sys- 1 The uniformity with which the system of feudality obtained over Europe, has induced some authors to consider the invaders of the Roman empire as original- ly one people. Robertson, with greater propriety, as- LIFE OF CANOVA. 17 tern, by recognising a series of tyrants in- stead of one sovereign, and one code of law — by appropriating every honourable distinction, or desirable acquisition, to one class — by fixing human condition in the right of oppressing, or in the servility of suffering ; — destroyed all community of sentiment, — and by extinguishing hope, removed the motives to exertion. Where deeds of violence, and lawless power reign- ed, — the peaceful arts, which court se- cure, and refined leisure gradually expi- red. In Italy they longest lingered ; but a vital change could alone rescue their fee- ble light from utter extinction. Accord- ingly, when, by various means of pru- dence, bravery, usurpation, or purchase, about the commencement of the eleventh century, — the cities of Florence, Pisa, Bo- logna, Siena, in the centre, and Venice and Amalphi at the opposite extremities of the Italian peninsula, threw off their cribes it to the similar state of society and manners, in which they had previously lived. — Char. V. vol. i. sub init. B 18 LIFE OF CANOVA. feudal dependence, and proclaimed them- selves free ; — the arts appeared among the earliest attendants in the train of liberty. Amid the surrounding waste of slavery and of despotism, so many spots of freshness and security thus arose, where the blos- soms of freedom, if not reared with tender, were, at least, guarded with jealous and effective care, — where the oppressed found protection, and the persecuted repose — where merit secured respect, — and talent obtained honour. In the free cities, there- fore, was quickly assembled, all that Italy could boast of aspiring, intrepid or en- lightened '. 1 For interesting accounts of the rise, progress, and privileges of the Italian republics, see the native his- torians, Guicciardini, Machiavelli, and Muratori An- tiq. Ital. Also Sismondi, who, if he has added little of novelty, gives an admirable synoptical view of the subject. Robertson, Char. V. vol. i., gives several particulars. The " communities" of other countries are carefully to be distinguished from the " free cities" of Italy ; the former, indeed, possessed many of the privileges of the latter ; but the sovereignty resided in the king, not in the municipality. See Hume's History of England, Gilbert's History of the Exchequer, &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 19 The moral history of these republics, in- deed, presents an agreeable and brilliant contrast to their political annals. The lat- ter exhibit a fearful picture of the con- sequences of liberty when ill understood, and of every evil attendant on the turbu- lence, vacillation, and licentiousness of po- pular authority. In the former are beau- tifully elucidated the effects of those gene- rous, and dignified principles of govern- ment, which originate in the heart, and dis- position of man, not in artificial systems ; — which, by interesting the noblest feelings in defence of the dearest rights, form the glorious distinction of free states, and the best security of small ones. As one of these moral causes, the efficacy of the arts in ministering to patriotism and to national glory, among a discerning and free people, could not remain long undiscovered. In these republics, the arts, as objects of general concern, were first consecrated to the service of religion, while they added not less to the embellishment of each in- dependent capital. They were next exer- b2 20 LIFE OF CANOVA. cised in public works, where utility was al- so combined with magnificence : — And, finally, the productions of painting, and of sculpture more particularly, were employ- ed as commemorative of celebrated events, and as marks of the highest honours a grateful country could bestow. While his acquirements were thus important, the art- ist was respected as an ornament and a benefactor to his native city. Again, these cities had attained, as they could only hope to support their independence, — by com- merce. In this respect, ingenuity in the arts offered a never-failing resource. Even before the era of liberty, they had thus been in some degree practised, nor was foreign aid required to revive what had ne- ver been extinct. Great occasions create great men ; and the magnificent works, which quickly followed the possession of liberty, found conductors in those, whose powers, circumstances had hitherto con- cealed. It is vain, then, to ascribe their sudden splendour to extrinsic causes, when the arts were thus cultivated from motives LIFE OF CANOVA. 21 of pious zeal, — of national pride, — of per- sonal ambition ; when they were regarded as sources of general prosperity, — and as cherishing patriotic enthusiasm. Among the republics of Italy, Venice was the earliest in fully establishing liber- ty. Pisa, however, took the lead in found- ing a school of native art ; and early in the eleventh century, preparations were made for the building of her beautiful cathe- dral 1 . Their eastern commerce afforded to the persons a ready intercourse with Greece, whence they brought various re- mains of ancient art, relievos, capitals, and even numerous columns, which ornament this edifice. From the East, many artists likewise resorted to Pisa, a circumstance na- turally to be expected, when no certain employment could be procured in their own country, which was then suffering both from foreign war and domestic oppression. These were united in the labour with native 1 Cicognara, — David, — the common guide books, and other works on Italy, date this event later. 22 LIFE OF CANOVA. workmen ; but the incorrect reading of a se- pulchral inscription, seems unjustly to have assigned to Greece, the honour of produc- ing Boschetto, the principal architect \ This artist died at Pisa, where he founded a nu- merous school of architects and of sculptors. Of the school of Boschetto, the most il- lustrious member was Nicolo da Pisa, a na- tive of that city. This master was the glory of the twelfth century, and under him Italian art first assumes dignity and importance. He early perceived the re- markable difference between the fragments of Greek sculpture, and the productions of his master : the instructions of the lat- ter were therefore abandoned, that undi- vided attention might be devoted to the study of the former. His most eminent pupils were his own son, Giovanni da Pisa, and two strangers, — Augustino, and Ange- lo da Siena, so called from the place of their birth, and who, with the former, were uni- ted in the construction of the cathedral in 1 Ancient inscriptions at Pisa— Cicognaru, toin. i. sub init. LIFE OF CANOVA. 23 their native city. With these, the science of their master did not languish ; and in their school we first trace the separation of sculp- ture from architecture, each being subse- quently considered as a distinct profes- sion '. From the founding of the cathedral at Pisa % to the middle of the thirteenth cen- tury, the surrounding cities were gradually filled with skilful workmen, and splendid edifices. Of these, as well as of the minor works of art, in chapels, altars, tombs 3 , fountains, statues, relievos, — the labours of 1 This regulation was highly conducive to the ad- vancement of sculpture. In Siena, about 1250, we find a confraternity of sculptors alone, consisting of sixty-one members, then employed on the cathedral. Their rules and regulations are still extant, from which it appears, that there were chosen, by popular election every six months, three rectors and a chamberlain. % David, &c. Cicognara is somewhat partial to the greater antiquity of Venetian art. 3 Of all the minor works of sculpture at this period, none were more numerous, or contributed more to the advancement of the art than tombs. These were ge- nerally of the form termed Cataphalks, borrowed from the custom of exposing the dead on beds of state, and 24 LIFE OF CANOVA. this period, the authors still live in the fond partiality of local antiquaries. In the brevity of a general outline, however, these names must be compendiously classed, as disciples, either immediately or remotely, of the school of Pisa. The cities of ancient Etruria, the former seats of the arts and of freedom, were thus the first to hail their return. One alone, destined to eclipse the glory of all, still lin- gered in the twilight of ignorance, although amongst the earliest to proclaim the dawn of liberty. Florence, from the declaration of her independence about 1010, was so distracted by domestic feuds, that upwards of two centuries elapsed, before any conspi- cuous progress in the arts had been effect- ed. To terminate these divisions, in 1250, thirty-eight persons were chosen by com- which are not inferior to any afterwards invented, since they might be either isolated, or built into a wall, and admitted of almost every ornament which sculpture could bestow. The stiffness of a recumbent posture was perhaps less favourable to separate figures, than the whole was to relievos, &c. Of this species of tombs many masterpieces of the earliest school still remain. LIFE OF CANOVA. 25 mon consent, who established a constitu- tion, to which their country chiefly owed its future greatness. And though it failed in immediately putting an end to faction, it has justly been regarded a most perfect mo- del of democracy, — if that epithet may be applied to a species of government, which, under the best forms, is liable to so many objections. The citizens were divided into twelve separate and independent compa- nies, governed each by a magistrate elected from the members, each possessed of pecu- liar and distinct privileges, — but all united, as regarded the political existence of the whole, by the most sacred ties of religion and of patriotism. The same individual, as head of a corporation, watched over the appropriate rights of his constituents, — and, as one of twelve compeers, represented in general council the majesty of the repub- lic. The same banner was borne before each corporate body, in peaceful proces- sion to its separate church ; — and, as one of twelve standards, marshalled to the field the united band of patriots. 26 LIFE OF CANOVA. Florence thus contained within its own bosom, a second Greece, — another Italy, in the number of small but independent com- munities, whose mutual emulation has, in both countries, proved so favourable to the progress of the arts. At the same time, she possessed an advantage denied to both, in preserving that political union which constitutes the strength of great states. To this happy constitution is, in the first place, to be ascribed the splendour which Floren- tine art so rapidly attained \ Sculpture, indeed, did not at first meet with that encouragement which was be- stowed on the sister art. About the mid- dle of the thirteenth century, some Greek painters were employed in the churches of Florence, and the youthful Cimabue was so lost in admiration of their work, that whole days passed unheeded while he ga- zed. This devotion led to the practice of 1 For these various particulars relative to the an- cient customs and constitution of Florence, see Guic- ciardini, &c. and more particularly Machiavelli, Hist. Fior. lib. ii. LIFE OF CANOVA. 27 the art, and his masters were quickly sur- passed. He was in turn excelled by Giotto, his own pupil, whom he found a shepherd boy in the vallies of Tuscany, beguiling the languor of solitude, by attempting to deli- neate on a stone the figures of his sheep. The performances of these artists had excited the highest approbation, and ob- tained the most splendid rewards, while the art, in which her citizens afterwards became so famous, was yet without a school in Florence '. Andrea da Pisa, the grand- son of Nicolo, about the commencement of the fourteenth century, was invited to 1 Cimabue was born in 1240, and died at the age of sixty ; Giotto was thirty-six years younger than his master, and died in 1336. The circumstance of the former having been instructed by certain obscure Greek artists, who happened then to be at Florence, seems to have misled Vasari, who appears to have applied what was peculiar to one art and one individual as common to all. Yet Cimabue might have been taught painting by his countrymen. A picture of the Virgin by this artist, was carried in solemn and triumphant proces- sion from his own house to the church for which it was intended. Giotto had a fixed salary of 100 gold florins. By such honours Florence formed her artists. 28 LIFE OF CANOVA. leave his native city, and thus became the father of Tuscan sculpture. Andrea pos- sessed extensive and varied attainments ; he was a tolerable painter, an excellent sculptor, and a skilful founder. He like- wise commenced his career under several advantages ; his predecessors had left him great examples to follow ; the reputation of his cotemporaries, Dante, — Giotto, — Mem- mi, excited emulation and cherished hope ; while in the best means of arriving at su- periority, recent discoveries of classic re- mains had furnished models of art hither- to unknown \ The works of this sculptor are numerous in Florence ; but his fame is chiefly maintained, or even increased, by the relievos of the Campanile z , and by the bronze-folding doors of the Baptistery. 1 Of Andrea's attention to these ancient statues, the group of the Virgin and Child, still to be seen in the church named Bigallo, exhibits an instance. This work is justly praised by Vasari, " per aver egli, in essa imitato la buona maniera anticha," as imitating the manner of antiquity. z Or belfry of the Cathedral, of which Charles V. used to say, that it ought to be kept in a case like LIFE OF CANOVA. 29 Tomasso and Nino, sons and pupils of Andrea, sustained the reputation of their instructor ; while, by the disciples of this school, previous to the conclusion of the century, the knowledge and practice of the art were widely disseminated over Lombar- dy, and other parts of Italy. Of these early masters, the names and works are chiefly preserved in the edifices of Milan, and the Chartreuse of Pavia. The beautiful uten- sils and ornaments of the church, also, both in the precious ores, and in baser materials, — the splendid arms and panoply of the warrior, furnished, at this period, ample opportunities of exercising ingenuity, — gra- dually refining a mechanic occupation into a branch of exquisite art. In these labours were now educated in the workshops of Flo- rence, many of the greatest artists, whose talents shed lustre on the succeeding age. The school of Pisa is thus to be consi- dered the primitive, and genuine source of some precious trinket. This trinket is not much above 200 feet high. 30 LIFE OP CANOVA. modern art. From this origin, in the space of little more than three centuries, we trace its gradual diffusion over a considerable portion of Italy, and more particularly its firm establishment in the capital of Tus- cany. Notwithstanding the claims which, in this respect, have been urged in favour of Venice, she long continues to form merely an episode in the general history ; and only as a supporter of liberty, or, by occasionally employing foreign artists, did she influence the progress of sculpture. Thus, in 979, architects were brought from Constantinople, to construct, or rather to rebuild St Marks, who were again dismiss- ed, apparently without any endeavours to found a seminary of native art. During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, on the contrary, sculptors were brought from Pisa and from Florence. The grand poli- tical and moral causes, which operated so powerfully in other states, were compara- tively feeble in their effects at Venice. Her proud and wealthy aristocracy converted the arts, rather to the purposes of private LIFE OF CANOVA. 31 magnificence, than employed them as means of national grandeur. It was this union of the arts with national feeling, while the ardour of newly acquired liberty gave to that sentiment extraordinary energy and vigour, which so eminently conduced to their progress in Italy. Seconded by the emulation of different states, — by the com- petition of numerous schools, — by the great- er abundance of excellent models, this na- tional enthusiasm enabled her free cities to advance, at least two centuries, in the ac- quisition of pure and elegant art, before the rest of Europe had started in the career. The ages which have now passed in re- view, may be termed the infancy of the art, whilst sculpture was, in some measure, still subordinate to architecture. Thegigan- tic undertakings in the latter, which distin- guish this period, — the edifices of Pisa, of Siena, of Orvieto, of Florence, of Venice, of Milan, furnished an extensive field for the practice, and, indeed, chiefly tended to the advancement of the former. It is cu- rious, however, to observe the dissimilar improvement, which, in the same age, and 32 LIFE OF CANOVA. in the same building, these arts respective- ly exhibit. In the architecture of these fa- brics there is little of elegance, purity, or simplicity of taste, while the sculptures with which they are ornamented display in those respects very perceptible approximations towards excellence. The beauty which is dependent on the harmony, proportions, and arrangement of imaginary forms, is doubtless of a more abstract species, than that which arises from truth of imitation, where the exemplars are to be found in living nature. Hence, perhaps, the same men, whose refinement was capable of ap- preciating the merits of Grecian sculpture, overlooked the simple majesty of ancient architecture. From the time of Nicholas of Pisa, whose ideas are frequently drawn from antiquity ', 1 Nicholas was not satisfied with the fragments im- ported by his countrymen : his eager desire of improve- ment prompted him to visit the remains which were elsewhere to be seen; and the resemblance between some of his works and monuments known then to have existed at Rome, whither it is certain he travelled, in- contestably proves imitation. LIFE OF CANOVA. 33 a general character of simplicity, — of fide- lity, — of just expression, pervades sculp- ture. The mind is never astonished by boldness of execution, or grandeur of con- ception ; but the great efforts of the art be- ing dedicated to religion, or to the memory of the dead, there is often an air of devo- tional sincerity — a touching representation of the gentler affections, which soften the heart, and awaken the sensibility. No- thing is ever daringly ventured; — the ef- fect is sought to be produced by force of labour — by persevering discovery, rather than by following any acknowledged prin- ciples of taste, or rules of composition. But if the creative faculties have seldom been conspicuously exerted, we are some- times surprised by unexpected beauties, arising from a diligent imitation of nature, which give back the image of the original in all its simple reality, and excite the same sensations, which more refined art only boasts of producing, by nobler and more unerring precepts. Of this period, the principal works are 34 LIFE OP CANOVA. relievos ; statues are comparatively few in number, and generally inferior in excel- lence, — a natural consequence, where diffi- culties are multiplied, while knowledge continues circumscribed. The former are to be considered among those performan- ces and discoveries of one age, which im- mediately conduct to the improvements and superiority of the succeeding. Thus, the relievos on the shrine of St Dominic — on the pulpits of Pisa and of Siena,— those on the cathedral of Orvieto, — the monu- ments of the Tarlati — of the Scaligers, and other sepulchral erections, — the decora- tions of St Mark's, and of the Ducal Pa- lace, — the sculptures of the belfry of St Mary's, and, above all, the doors of the Baptistery, constitute the intermediate gra- dations between the barbarism of the dark ages, and the more perfect productions of the two following centuries. There are epochs in the annals of the human mind, when its powers appear as if multiplied, or increased by the variety and the diversity of its exertions. Of these the LIFE OF CANOVA. 35 fifteenth century presents a splendid in- stance. Advances in moral, intellectual, and political knowledge were then effect- ed ; — as also in the arts of utility and of elegance, which subsequent discoveries, however brilliant or useful, never can ef- face. In the history of sculpture, especial- ly, the artists who then flourished will ever hold a distinguished rank. During this period, among the citizens of the Italian republics, two ruling passions may be dis- covered, — love of national independence, and admiration of the arts. The almost continual wars carried on at this time, e- vince the ardour with which they main- tained the one, — while the dangers and difficulties of military operations did not prevent them from paying every attention to the cultivation of the other. The ener- gies of a free people seem, indeed, to ac- quire fresh vigour from opposition to the dangers which menace their liberty ; and, amid such struggles, the most glorious ef- forts, both in arts and in arms, have been displayed. The same jealousy of a supe- c 2 36 LIFE OF CANOVA. rior, also, which animated the political world, appeared to pervade the empire of taste. There existed throughout this cen- tury an aristocracy of talent ; — and, as if genius had been the common birthright of many, no single master so far excelled his cotemporaries, as to impress upon the age the stamp and character of an individual mind. Of this general equality, the first occurrence in the history of sculpture fur- nishes a striking proof, at the same time assisting in the selection of those names, which, during this period, most directly influenced the progress of the art. In the year 1400, the magistrates of Flo- rence resolved to ornament the two re- maining entrances to the Baptistery with gates of bronze, similar in design to those which had before, by Andrea da Pisa, been prepared for the third: They accordingly in- vited a competition of the most celebrated artists, by publicly announcing their inten- tion in every principality of Italy. Of the artists who, on the day appointed, assem- bled in great numbers, six were immediate- LIFE OF CANOVA. 37 ly acknowledged to surpass the rest in ge- neral estimation, though of doubtful supe- riority as compared with each other. Of the candidates thus selected, Brunelleschi and Ghiberti were Florentines ; Jacomo della Quercia of Siena, Nicolo Lamberti of Arezzo, Francisco di Valdambrino, were Tuscans ; and Simone dei Colli was from Lombardy. On the expiration of a year, during which they were maintained at the expense of the state, each was required to produce a complete pannel, finished in the proper style, and of the just dimensions, as required in the future work \ 1 In the text, the unedited manuscripts of Ghiberti himself have been followed in preference to the narra- tive of Vasari, who says that there were seven compe- titors, to the names above, adding that of Donatello. This latter, however, w r as certainly not a competitor, since he was born in 1383, and, consequently, at the early age of sixteen or seventeen, could not possibly be ranked among the most celebrated artists of Italy. In the Commentaries of Ghiberti, a manuscript, in his own handwriting, and still to be seen in the ducal li- brary at Florence, we indeed find the competitors a- mount to seven, the name of Nicolo d' Arezzo being 38 LIFE OF CANOVA. The time for examining these perform- ances being arrived, a second assembly of artists was convened at Florence, when thirty-eight of the most accomplished were added to those in the text. But he himself says, in some previous remarks, that " they were six who made this trial ;" — " Fummo sei a fare detta pruova la quale pruova era demonstrazione di gran parte dell' arte statuaria." Here, then, there is considerable difficulty ; but Baldinucci furnishes an explanation, by informing us that Nicolo di Arezzo and Nicolo Lam- berti are but two names for the same individual. N. di Pietro Aretino scultore, non e diverso da N. di Pia Lamberti, o di Lamberti, cittadino di Arezzo e scultore, il quale operi in Firenza nel 1396 e nel 1422. Baldin. Vita del Scult. torn. i. p. 312. Ghi- berti, therefore, in the hurry of writing, put down the same person under both his names ; and Vasari, who transcribes almost verbatim from the " Commen- tario," aware of this mistake, inserted, on his own au- thority, the name of Donatello. He has also thrown an air of romantic generosity over the conclusion of the contest, not indeed inconsistent with the high strain of feeling and of sentiment in that extraordinary pe- riod, but which rests only on his own authority. See Vasari Vita di Donatello e Bruncllesci, — Cicognara Stor. del Scult. — David. Recherches sur l'Art Stat., &c, who details the story from Vasari, seemingly en- tirely ignorant of his mistake. LIFE OF CANOVA. 39 requested to act as judges. The competi- tors having wrought in secret, and apart from each other, the pannels were now first exposed, representing, in mixed relief, the Sacrifice of Abraham, — a subject pre- scribed, as well calculated to elicit their utmost skill, including both draped and naked figures, and animals. This was a spectacle worthy of the happiest ages of ancient Greece : — the magistrates in their robes presided ; — the assembled citizens stood around ; — and the judges discussed aloud, in presence of all, the respective merits of the rival productions. It is by such national and unbiassed patronage that the arts are cherished. The countenance of individuals may foster a succession of artists, — but, that art may advance, its in- terests must become the care of the state. The most glorious meed of genius, which excites in rewarding, is the applause of a free and generous people. After long deliberation, conducted with the most impartial scrutiny, Lorenzo Ghi- berti, a youth of twenty-three years, was 40 LIFE OF CANOVA. declared to have surpassed the skill and elegance of his opponents. The work thus honourably assigned to his superior merits, formed the constant labour of forty years of his life, and still remains one of the noblest monuments of modern art '• In this pro- duction, however, as compared with the earlier performance of the Pisan artist, we do not perceive such conspicuous anticipa- tion of knowledge or of taste unknown to the age, nor is there attained so marked an elevation above immediate predecessors. Art, in its general progress, experiences the fate of individual genius. To a certain era in refinement the progressions are rapid ; - — but as advances towards perfection are 1 These were afterwards declared by Michael An- gelo, " worthy to be the gates of paradise." The ex- ertions of Ghiberti were most nobly rewarded by his fellow-citizens. He was paid not only whatever he demanded, but received a grant of land in addition, and was elected Gonfaloniere, or chief magistrate of the state. After his death, his bust, and that of his father, who had been his master, were placed in the Baptistery. He was like many of the sculptors of this period bred a goldsmith. He died in 1455, aged 77. LIFE OF CANOVA. 41 accomplished, improvement gradually be- comes more slow, or less obvious, as its objects are exalted ; — the ascending gra- dations are rendered less and less appa- rent, by their proximity to the summit of that refined excellence, the conception of which distinguishes the highest order of in- tellect — which inspires the brightest vi- sions of fancy ; — but must ever remain the despair of practice ! Of the other competitors with Ghiberti, the most celebrated was Brunelleschi, who, in his youth, discovered talents for sculp- ture, which would have rendered him the most eminent artist of the age ; but his at- tention being afterwards directed to archi- tecture, the constructor of that wondrous cupola, the first which modern art produ- ced, ceases to interest on the present occa- sion. The remaining four, by their works in bronze and in marble, by the number and the merits of their scholars, maintain- ed their own reputation, while they widely disseminated and improved the art. Among so many illustrious cotempora- 42 LIFE OF CANOVA. ries, the name of Donatello challenges con- spicuous notice, from the variety, the mag- nitude, and the excellence of his labours, — which, in every material capable of re- ceiving the impress of his chisel, and dis- persed throughout Italy, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples, in Venice, in Padua, still fix the admiration of the traveller. Of his works in the first-mentioned city, the statues of St George, of Magdalen Peni- tent, of St John, may be instanced as ex- amples of nobleness of form and grandeur of expression, united with simplicity of composition, and truth of imitation ; while at the last, the equestrian statue of Erasmo di Narni claims attention, as the first at- tempt in modern times. But the great- ness of his genius is chiefly remarkable in the purity and beauty of his relievos, — a department of the art which, during the fif- teenth century, attained a degree of perfec- tion unsurpassed in any succeeding age. The scholars of Donatello may be divi- ded into two great classes. The first com- prehends those who, without producing any LIFE OF CANOVA. 43 originals of their own, have attained repu- tation, from assisting as co-labourers in the most considerable undertakings of their master. Among these may be reckoned, Simon his brother, Giovanni di Pisa the second of the name, Bartoldo di Firenza, Vellamo di Padua, and perhaps others. — The second division includes the true dis- ciples of Donatello, who, without servilely following in his train, preserved the inte- grity of his precepts, and imbibed the ge- nuine principles of their instructor. A- mong the most celebrated of these pupils, Michelozzi, Titarete, Settignano, and the two Russilini may be enumerated '. 1 Of Titarete it was said, that his audacity would have attempted to rebuild the world, and his vanity would have led him to believe he could have embellish- ed it. Settignano died early, — he promised to be the Correggio of sculpture — so lovely — so graceful are his forms. The elder Russilino is sometimes celebrated as the first architect of St Peter's under Nicholas V. To these names may be added that of Cividale, artist of the tomb of Nocetta, esteemed one of the most perfect monuments of its kind. The two Russilini and Ci- vidale entered late into the school of Donatello, and were successors, rather than pupils. 44 LIFE OF CANOVA. Nor in Tuscany alone was sculpture cul- tivated with distinguished success. In Bo- logna, in Modena, and also over the whole of Lombardy, even in its remotest parts, at Como, and at Campione, we find eminent artists. In Naples, Donatello had left ma- ny works, and the taste which these inspi- red was fostered by native talent. The two Massicj, Monaco, Cicione, Fiore, may be mentioned with applause among those who in this extremity of Italy maintained the increasing splendour of the art. In the states of Venice were numerous sculp- tors, scions also of the Florentine school ; but, as regards the excellence of their pro- ductions, a native historian may be allowed to affirm, without being charged with great national partiality, that " they rivalled the parent seminary." Of these the names of Iliccio, the Venetian Lysippus, of Cavino, of Camelio, of Leopardi, may be selected from the crowd. It is to be regretted that the most valued productions of this period suffered irreparable injury, while the ex- cesses of the French revolution were but too LIFE OF CAXOVA. 45 faithfully imitated at Venice. The use, if not the beauty of sepulchral and religious monuments, ought to have preserved them from violation ; nor is their loss the less to be deplored, that such specimens of early art present the best means of tracing its progress ; for piety or ostentation thus pro- vide, in each succeeding age, a series of performances, in which is embodied the living refinement of the time. If the attention be once more directed to Florence, many eminent artists are dis- covered, whose labours close this century. Luca della Robbia, in his manner bold and vigorous, — the Majani, conspicuous in sculpture and in mosaic — Andrea Veroc- chio, enjoying high reputation, both by his works and by his scholars, — the Pallajoli, painters and sculptors, chiefly instrumental in introducing boldness of design and ana- tomical science. Among the pupils of the preceding, or in the academy established by the Medici, are to be found Michael Angelo and many of his illustrious com- peers, who adorned the sixteenth centurv, 46 LIFE OF CANOVA. on the confines of which we have thus ar- rived. From the Alps to the Appenines, — from the latter to the shores of Calabria, sculp- ture was thus cultivated with success, while, in the other states of Europe, the arts still slumbered, or had made advances too un- important to merit, in a general survey, particular examination. In Italy, during the century which has just elapsed, Flo- rence continued the central point of re- finement ; and, in the works of her artists, is to be observed a more obvious develop- ment of principles, united with a greater freedom of execution, than appears in the performances of more remote art. In the Florentine schools, for the space of almost seventy years x , Ghiberti and Donatello presided ; — nor has the lapse of successive centuries exhausted the admiration which their works first inspired. To these mas- ters, therefore, the attention is strongly di- 1 Donatello survived his rival Ghiberti about eleven years, and died in 1466, aged 83. His master is un- known. LIFE OF CANOVA. 47 rected, who are found to excel — each in a different department. Both are most e- teemed in relievos ; and the former in high, — the latter in low relief, produced models that have never been surpassed. The in- fluence of Donatello, however, on the art universally, was more direct and extensive than that of Ghiberti ; but the talents of neither claim such exclusive pre-eminence, as to obscure the merits of cotemporaries, or of immediate successors. The progress of sculpture, during this century, was the result rather of general improvement, than the effect of individual superiority. It has thus been the singular fate of the eminent sculptors of this period, to have produced models in those that followed, while they have continued models themselves, — and to have remained originals, in an age of originality. As regards the style and character of art, both are, in a high degree, elevated as well as pleasing. A refined and modest sim- plicity, equally remote from affectation or poverty, reigns in every production of the 48 LIFE OV CANOVA. chisel. The artist never appears solicitous, by a display of his skill, to excite surprise, or to attract admiration, but seems anxious to express nature with fidelity, and by the simplest means. The manner of represen- tation never allures attention from the ob- ject represented ; and the work is often long admired, before it occurs to inquire how the fascination is produced. The exe- cution is distinguished by extreme minute- ness and delicacy, but frequently betrays a deficiency in boldness and energy ' : — a slight portion of restraint is still apparent ; — a certain timidity, verging, however, on a beauty, as it evidently proceeds from a too rigid adherence to nature, nor ill ac- cords with a manner correct, yet unosten- tatious. Between the powers of imagina- tion, and of execution, there exists a noble harmony ; — we discover neither that ina- 1 The greater proportion of works, during the fif- teenth century, was in bronze, — a material which cer- tainly favoured the acquisition of a delicate and high finished style, but it may be questioned whether it be not opposed to boldness and vigour. LIFE OF CANOVA. 49 dequacy of practice which marks the in- fancy of art, nor that superiority of manual dexterity over original invention, which notes the decline of taste. In the more intellectual part, the most chaste and ele- gant design, — judicious and unaffected composition characterise, in general, the works of this period. Sweet and dignified expression, more than sublimity or gran- deur of mental affection, is sought to be obtained. The powers of fancy are never presumed upon, and seldom roused : — the heart is interested, but the senses are not surprised. We do not observe any decided attempts to create an expression of general or abstract beauty ; but the mind of the artist, now no longer wholly occupied in mechanical detail, or almost overpowered by the difficulties of mere representation, — the taste and the imagination are allowed to expatiate — to select — to combine. If the forms and manners are not invested with ideal elevation, — we at least trace a successful endeavour to imitate the most perfect models of real existence. In short, D 50 LIFE OF CANOVA. were the extent or object of art confined to the imitation of actual nature, the sculp- ture of the fifteenth century would often verge on perfection. By the genius of the sixteenth, greater ease and grace of execu- tion, — more forceful and exalted expres- sion, — more refined selection of form, — and more of imaginative excellence, still remained to be added. LIFE OF CANOVA. 51 CHAPTER II. Sculpture during the sixteenth century — Michael An- gelo — Character of his genius and works — The Moses — Monuments of the Medici — Scholars and cotemporaries of Michael Angelo — Venetian, Nea- politan, and Lombard schools during this century — Sculpture in France — Italian art at the commence- ment of the seventeenth century — Bernini — Charac- ter of his style — Algardi — II Fiammingo — Eigh- teenth century — Rusconi and his cotemporaries — French sculptors — Gerardon — Puget — Bonchardon — Pigal — Sculpture in Germany — Spain — England — General reflections — Conclusion. Xhe opening of the sixteenth century dis- closes a moral and political disposition of things, highly favourable to the future ad- vancement of the arts in Italy. Refine- ment in matters of taste had become com- mon ; — literature and erudition being e- steemed, were profoundly studied ; — the chief cities enjoyed freedom, united with opulence ; — in the other states, the princes 52 LIFE OF CANOVA. and nobles, though warlike, were yet at- tached to elegant splendour, and emulous in patronising ingenious men, — while, still more important, great energy and activity pervaded the general body of the people. The influence of these causes on sculpture individually, was rendered peculiarly ef- fective by the advanced condition of the latter. To the cultivation of the fine arts at Rome also, there deemed hitherto an object of very secondary importance, the immense resources of the church, and the attention of several of the most enterpri- sing among the papal sovereigns, were from this period sedulously devoted. It was not the generous enthusiasm produced by liberty, nor the elevated views of national glory, nor the refined love of elegance, which operated in producing this revolu- tion. Universal sway had ever formed the darling ambition of the Holy See. To main- tain this dominion, spiritual weapons and temporal power had formerly been em- ployed with success ; — the progress of knowledge was now rapidly diminishing LIFE OF CANOVA. 53 the force of both, — and means more con- genial to the spirit of the times had be- come necessary. It was therefore resolved to constitute this city the metropolis at once of religion and of art, — to include with- in its walls relics the most precious in the eye of devotion, and monuments the most valued in the estimation of taste. Hence the origin of those vast schemes for the aggrandisement of Rome, which have ever since rendered that capital the principal seat of the arts, and which, from the commence- ment of this epoch, gave birth to underta- kings the most splendid in modern times. External events were thus highly propi- tious, while these advantages were now se- conded by one of the most extraordinary men in the annals of intellectual great- ness, — who, for more than sixty years of this century, reigned paramount in the realms of art. We have now attained the central elevation in the history of modern sculpture, to which an ascent, progressive, though gradual, has been traced, and from which, in like manner, a decline, but more 54 LIFE OF CANOVA. rapid, will be perceived. On this summit is seated, in distant superiority — in un- shared and awful solitude, the towering ge- nius of Michael Angelo. By this great artist, then, the attention is first and chief- ly arrested, while, from an examination of his works, the most correct views of the state of sculpture, during this important era, will be obtained. To the name of Buonaroti, however, a fictitious reputation is attached, — fictitious, at least, as respects his several merits, which, as hitherto re- maining undefined, has prevented a just appreciation of his character, in its different bearings on the arts. When the attainments of Michael An- gelo are collectively considered ; when in the same individual is discovered — the ar- chitect of the Cupola — the painter of the Last Judgment — the sculptor of the Mo- ses, discriminative qualities are lost in un- limited admiration ; and to him who thus bears away the palm of universal genius, we are inclined to concede the foremost rank in every pursuit. Accordingly, by LIFE OF CANOVA. 55 his admirers, this general superiority, which is maintained only by indivision, has been successively transferred to each separate department. Hence, as a sculptor, most particularly, the fame of this artist exceeds the absolute beauty of his labours, and the value of his improvements. In sculpture, the same advancement which he effected in painting was impossible ; under his hand the latter suddenly rose from poverty and meanness, to sublimity, strength, boldness, and scientific correctness ' ; in the former an excellence had already been attained, to which little remained to be added ; nor are the subsequent additions always desirable. When Michael Angelo appeared, the age was generally unacquainted with a style of art different from that of the fif- teenth century. Estimated by this crite- rion, and at a period in refinement, when the forcible and the imaginative possess greater charms than the simple and the true, his works, in the partial admiration 1 In the previous works of Mussaccio alone are to be discovered indications of a noble and elevated style. 56 LIFE OF CANOVA. of the time, appeared to exhibit excellen- cies that marked the utmost limits of sculp- ture. They were accordingly erected into a standard, by which earlier masters were to be valued, and to which future artists were to aspire. The contemporaries, as also the successors of this great man, were thus con- strained to become imitators, and, in pub- lic estimation, necessarily remained infe- riors, while, in comparison with these alone, did his merits long continue to be appre- ciated. That genius is exalted by denying regu- larity to its operations, — by refusing stabi- lity to the modes of judging its produc- tions, — by asserting the inefficacy of rules in aiding its exertions, are ideas not un- common, and which, as sources of exagge- rated reputation, have, in the present in- stance, operated with no inconsiderable in- fluence. The powers of Michael Angelo, it is frequently maintained, are too origi- nal — too exclusive — too mighty for subjec- tion to other laws, than those deducible from the effects of his own works ; and to LIFE OF CANOVA. 57 apply, in the examination of these, the common principles of criticism, has been viewed as an attempt to fetter a giant in the airy films of the gossamer. By what stand- ard, it is inquired, are we to estimate ; to what rules are we to subject the most su- blime, — yet the most daring of modern art- ists ; who hovers on the confines of possible existence, — in whose labours, like contend- ing light and darkness, grandeur and extra- vagance are often blended ? To be judged correctly, it is argued, he must not be re- moved out of his own age, and own manner; as if all former art had consisted of barba- rous efforts, without beauty or science ; as if he had established both, and therefore not obnoxious to precepts of which he was ig- norant. Yet few great names have been more indebted to the labours of predeces- sors. The sculptor of the Moses never could have produced that statue, had he not studied the performances of Donatel- lo ; even Brunelleschi had taught him to realise the lofty boast of rearing the dome of the Pantheon to the skies ; nay more, 58 LIFE OF CANOVA. Michael Angelo was intimately conversant with some of the chief productions of clas- sic art \ On what grounds, then, can his admirers demand for this artist those pri- vileges, which Homer, Shakespeare, or others who like them have lived in the dawn of refinement, and in ignorance of more perfect models, can alone justly claim ? Why should an exclusive origi- nality, or a peculiar system of critical re- mark, be arrogated, when few important principles were previously unknown, and when, in the labours of preceding masters, are to be found examples of excellence yet unsurpassed ? Such are the principal causes of an adven- titious fame, which, as gradually dispelled by time, has left in Michael Angelo, the instance of a name intrinsically great, whose reputation has not progressively advanced. 1 A few of the finest specimens of ancient sculpture had been discovered even during the early part of his life, which, shut up in palaces and villas, though they could not exert an influence on the public taste, served at least as models to artists. LIFE OF CANOVA. 59 Carefully excluding this unreal eminence, then, it will be necessary to ascertain, in examining his works, certain permanent principles of judgment. In the fine arts, as in all pursuits which aspire to moral dig- nity, truth is the criterion of beauty ; and in these the objects of truth are two, — resem- blance and consistency. -3The former respects the relation subsisting between the repre- sentation and its prototype, — the latter re- gards the agreement of the several parts of a composition with each other, and with the peculiar mode of imitation to which it be- longs ; in the first case, art is compared with nature, in the second, with itself. In matters of taste, the practice of antiquity also claims a twofold authority, — resting on the intrinsic excellence of the examples that have reached our times, — and on the prescriptive influence of opinions long established, of associations universally un- derstood. An authority thus neither local nor temporary, operates as a precept of im- mutable taste, as a sentiment of general feeling ; in those arts which must blend de- 60 LIFE OF CAN OVA. light with instruction, it consequently as- sumes the certainty and the importance of truth ■; Estimated by these principles, the works of Michael Angelo discover much that is derived from the noble and graceful forms of exalted nature, — still more which arises from the peculiarities of an individual ima- gination : They rarely exhibit the beautiful simplicity and repose essential to the cha- racter of an art, grave, dignified, or even austere, and possessing means comparative- ly limited and uniform ; but they frequent- ly present limbs artificially contrasted, at- titudes forced and constrained, proportions exaggerated, and expressions unnatural. At the same time, these qualities are al- ways redeemed by a force, an energy, an enthusiasm, which give a seeming vitality 1 See Reynolds' excellent Discourse " On the Stand- ard of Taste." Sculpture is so peculiarly an art be- longing to antiquity, that it may be justly questioned how far the slightest deviations from its established practices, in the inventions of modern artists, is war- ranted by judicious improvement, or pleasing effect. LIFE OF CANOVA. 61 to every composition, resembling rather the effect of inspiration, than produced by reiterated or laborious efforts. In reference to these respective manners, also, two gra- dations are easily recognisable ; the earlier performances of the artist, retaining all the truth and simplicity of the fifteenth centu- ry, while they unite to these beauties greater powers of execution, and more animated expression ; — his latter and more important labours, on the contrary, present, in their full vigour, those peculiar characteristics which especially constitute the style of this school. Of the former manner, the Bacchus in the Florentine gallery — the Pieta of St Peter's, as the group of the Virgin and dead Saviour is usually termed, — the Colossal David, notwithstanding its want of just proportion, are examples ; of the latter, the personifi- cation of victory, as a youth chaining a cap- tive, may be regarded as the first decided instance '• This being the style which im- pressed its spirit, both on cotemporary and 1 This statue of victory, now in the Council Cham- ber of the old Ducal Palace of the Medici at Florence, 62 LIFE OF CANOVA. on succeeding art, most particularly de- mands attention, while distinctive excellen- cies and defects, either in composition or in execution, will be best illustrated by the analysis of individual productions. Amid the creations of genius, the Moses of Michael Angelo rises a solitary and matchless monument. Without model a- mong the works of ancient masters, it has remained inimitable and unimitated by modern artists. The original conception of an extraordinary mind, it would be e- qually vain to expect its prototype in na- ture. Thus isolated by its own peculiar sublimity of character, this statue presents a striking resemblance to the imagination from which it derived existence, exhibiting a faithful transcript of the mental beauties remains still unfinished. On ascending the pedestal, in order to a closer examination, the author discover- ed on the back and shoulders, lines in red chalk, as ori- ginally drawn by the hand of Michael Angelo himself, on those parts which he intended to retouch ; the ef- fect of such an incident may be better conceived than described. LIFE OF CANOVA, 63 and blemishes of its author. The prophet, seated on the fragment of a rock, his right arm resting on the tablet of the law, is re- presented at the moment, when descending from the mount, the first distant prospect of the idolatrous camp has opened on his view; but his, though the posture, is not the state of repose. A restless and impa- tient action, perturbation and solicitude, pervade the whole figure ; while a charac- ter of intellectual and stern grandeur, of moral fierceness, of haughty and unrelent- ing independence, breathes — lives in the marble, and almost overpowers the senses. The eye traversing vacancy, and bent on distance, seems to imply that the objects of resentment are still remote ; yet the ex- pression has annihilated both time and space, the ardour of feeling has instantly transferred him to the tents of his recreant countrymen ! Who shall dare to abide that storm of indignation, of scorn, of wrath, which darkens in the frown, which is burst- ing from the lips, and lightening in the eyes ? " Now curse," the spectator is ready 64 LIFE OF CANOVA. to exclaim " for malediction hangs upon " thy tongue, and thou canst speak ' !" SONNET. What sculptured form, still through revolving time, Rises supreme amid the works of art, — Whose lips do all but living sounds impart ? 'Tis Israel's prophet — mark the air sublime, The double ray z — the soul unstained by crime : 'Tis he ! descending from the mountain lone, When o'er his face a light celestial shone ; Thus awful seemed he in the watery clime, While hung suspended the recoiling wave ; Thus looked, when following as they trode, On Egypt's sons the ocean whelmed a grave ; If such an image — not the molten god, Apostate Israel ! ye had bent before, The crime had then been venial to adore ! 1 When Michael Angelo had finished this statue, gazing at it for some moments, then sportively striking it on the thigh with his chisel, he is said to have ex- claimed, — " Parla dunque, tu sai," — " Speak now — thou canst." a The Moses of Michael Angelo is represented with two rays issuing from his forehead. This statue was originally destined for a niche, in one of the four fa- cades of the square, and isolated tomb intended by Julius II. for his own mausoleum. The undertaking 1 LIFE OF CANOVA. 65 The first impressions are thus irresistibly powerful, but the effects are those of sur- prise, of astonishment, not of delight, or of sympathy. The Moses exhibits the repre- sentation of a being who awes — who sub- dues — yet fails to interest; for with such, hu- manity entertains no communion of feeling. The fascination, therefore, is quickly dis- was one of the greatest in modern art ; since the unfi- nished statues begun for the work are to be found scattered over all Italy, and even in France. Only one of the four fronts was completed, which now forms part of the interior wall of the church of St Peter in vinculis. Here the Moses remained, as originally placed by Michael Angelo, till a few years ago, when, under the direction of Canova, it was brought forward, being partly concealed within the niche, and also ele- vated on a higher pedestal. By these judicious altera- tions, this celebrated production is now seen to much greater advantage. It is gratifying to behold a great genius thus ministering, at the distance of centuries, to the glory of an illustrious predecessor. The sonnet is a close translation of Zoppi's celebra- ted composition of the same kind, and on the same subject, which begins " Chi e cos'tui, che in si gran pietra sculto Sude gigante," &c. E 66 LIFE OF CANOVA. pelled, — the mind reluctantly submitting to an influence, originating solely in the ima- gination, and in which the sensibility has no portion. The sublime is here sought too exclusively, in the vehement, and the mar- vellous ; every effect is forced, every trait exaggerated ; and the whole shews a daring, a fearless originality, scorning every ac- knowledged boundary of the simple and the true, and verging on the extravagant and the false. The solemn majesty, the digni- fied repose, the commanding simplicity, which are admired in ancient sculpture ; those milder beauties which sentiment a- lone can appreciate ; those exalted graces which arise from elegance or nobleness of form; from refined and subdued expres- sion ; from elevated, yet genuine nature, are in the Moses looked for in vain. The ideal of Michael Angelo, indeed, seems to have been derived solely from the imagination. His design, his expression, his forms, his attitudes have little commu- nity with nature ; from her he borrows on- ly science, which too frequently is employ- LIFE OF CANOVA. 67 ed, so as to conceal the source, whence it is received ; while his conceptions, always remote from reality, are not seldom irregu- lar and fantastical. The perfection of art, he appears to have placed in embodying the wildest, the most gloomy, — the severest, the most awful imaginings of the human mind, under shapes the most powerful and energetic, and in positions the most diffi- cult and uncommon, as best adapted to the display of anatomical knowledge, and of technical address. In those productions, therefore, on which rests his more establish- ed renown, and in which his style appears fully evolved ; art stands forth boldly pro- minent, challenging admiration, not as a means, most perfect as it eludes regard, but as a final end, claiming in itself a distinct and paramount excellence, independent of nature or of imitation, and exhibiting its creations, " Like life, but not like mortal life to view." From nature, however, the truly grand in art, — the ideal which elevates the thoughts, while it interests the heart, can 68 LIFE OF CANOVA, never be disjoined. It is thus merely an- other term, to express the representation of an object, such as it would exist, were nature freed from the operation of those secondary causes, which are constantly deteriorating her works. The power of this physical grandeur is heightened still more, by the moral sublimity of noble and dignified ex- pression. It is this union of material beau- ty with intellectual elevation, which consti- tutes the true ideal of Grecian sculpture. In the master-pieces of antiquity, the scat- tered perfections of living nature are com- bined in one harmonious whole. Men are represented such as they ought — such as we feel they may have existed, and the soul recognises, with delightful sympathy, the human form restored to primeval loveli- ness, — superior to pain or accident, and un- debased by vice or passion ! In the works of Buonaroti, on the contrary, all is the off- spring of an individual imagination, — ever grand indeed, vigorous, forcible, and as- tonishing ; but rarely natural or pleasing in its conceptions. We are hurried along LIFE OF CANOVA. 69 by novelty, by wonder, by amazement, — but never yield ourselves the willing cap- tives of a sweet and voluntary, yet sublime delusion. Nor in the Moses, are the peculiarities of a mannered, though grand composition, the sole blemishes ; conspicuous defects present themselves in the details, and in the general conduct of the piece, arising from a want of harmony, from a destitu- tion of that internal agreement, and just or- donnance of parts, so essential to constitute a complete whole. The arms, separately considered, afford examples of technical skill, and of anatomical science, rarely e- qualled — never surpassed ; but they are too gigantic for the body, to which they appear as if attached by chance : the lower extre- mities, likewise, as far at least as visible from beneath the masses of drapery, with which they seem encumbered rather than clothed, fall under the same censure. Yet with much to be pardoned, — with more to be admired, the Moses will ever remain 70 LIFE OF CANOVA. one of those anomalous productions, which criticism would condemn, — but which ge- nius redeems. As the greatest work of its author, its appearance forms an epoch in the history of modern sculpture, but the subsequent era is marked rather by the re- trogression of taste, than by the progress of refinement. The ideas excited by the view of this statue, in truth, partake more of the vague, but powerful enthusiasm which belongs to poetry, — than of that so- ber inspiration, and more palpable imagery, which direct the judgment, and guide the practice of the sculptor. Accordingly, while very few artists have attempted, and no one has accomplished the design of pre- senting a faithful imitation of this admired original, innumerable are the poetic tri- butes composed in its praise \ 1 " Perche" asks Cicognora, " il S. Pietro in carcere di Rafaello, da tutti i designatori, si studia si imita, si copia ; e il Mose di Michael Angelo non si modella, t non si copia da alcuno" Of the circumstance of the verses, every one must be informed, who is conversant with the more fugitive poetical literature of Italy. LIFE OF CANOVA. 71 The monuments of the Medici, " Where the gigantic forms of night and day, Turned into stone, rest everlastingly, Yet still are breathing, and shed round at noon A twofold influence," — present also admirable illustrations of Mi- chael Angelo's style, both in composition and in execution \ In these, every figure bears the strong impress of a mind delight- ing in the grand, and the wonderful, — ea- ger in the pursuit of untried modes of ex- istence, and conscious of powers to execute the most daring conceptions. Intelligence 1 These monuments are two in number, consisting each of a sarcophagus of white marble, on which re- cline two allegorical figures, naked, and of different sex, representing, or thought to represent, Day and Night, Dawn and Twilight. They are erected in a chapel sometimes called Michael Angelo's, from its being the erection of that artist, by order of Clement VII., in the church of San Lorenzo, at Florence. Un- der the one repose the remains of Guiliano de Medici, Duke of Nemours, and of Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Urbino ; the former brother of Leo X., the latter fa- ther of Alexander I., Duke of Florence. Seated in a recess, each above his own monument, are the statues of these princes, also by Michael Angelo. 72 LIFE OF CANOVA. in the naked — breadth of touch — boldness of manner, unite in producing an effect of life and of movement, — that the unfinish- ed forms, left adhering in many parts to the rude block, seem as if they had been suddenly arrested in the act of starting in- to being, and were still struggling to get free. But, to a display of science, simpli- city has been sacrificed. Difficulties ap- pear to have been courted, in order to prove how easily they may be surmounted : the attitudes are consequently the most re- mote from such as nature would volunta- rily assume, or graceful design select, — are in a high degree studied and constrained ; and though, from the consummate skill with which the whole is conducted, the most perfect ease only be apparent, — it is the facility produced by art in the management of the details, not the higher grace result- ing from elegance of composition, or no- bleness of sentiment. In those beauties, which are addressed more immediately to the mind, in the deep interest arising from well-defined character, these works, LIFE OF CANOVA. 73 indeed, are so deficient, that they do not convey their own explanation, and, even by artists, have been described under different names \ The gloomy severity of the forms, their awe-inspiring, yet vague ex- pression, strike the imagination, but with- out inspiring any definite feeling on which sympathy may repose. Amid the living beauties, the almost breathing spirit, which, above all others, characterize the rapid and fervent execu- tion of this artist, we discover many tech- nical peculiarities and imperfections. It 1 Thus Lomazzo cites two of those figures as Day and Nature, while Richardson thinks the two females are intended to represent Active and Contemplative Life, &c. To quote the opinions of travellers, would be every thing but useful, — the name of Michael Angelo is sufficient to set them off altissimo in the scale of praise. From the censure of deficiency in expression, must be exempted the statues of the two Princes, " there, from age to age, Two ghosts are seated on their sepulchre." That of Lorenzo, in particular, called 77 Pensiero, or // Pensoso, by Italian artists, is a most admirable repre- sentation of deep thought. 74 LIFE OF CANOVA. was his frequent practice to strike boldly into the marble, from having merely sketch- ed the subject, and at most after composing a small model E . There even occur instances in which the accidental figure of the block appears to have suggested the original idea, and to have been the sole guide in the maturing the future statue \ While the mind — the eye — the hand, were thus in full exertion ; while propriety of expres- sion, and beauty of form, — mechanical de- tail, and general effect, were at once to be attended to, the most capacious intellect, the most dexterous skill, could hardly a- void error. Hence the want of propor- tion, conspicuous in so many works of this master ; hence, also, so few completely fi- nished, and these commonly presenting only one point of view. As regards more individual details, likewise, in the salient 1 The original models of these very figures, about twenty inches high, are still to be seen in the gallery of the Accademia di San Luca at Rome. * As in the celebrated St Mathew of the Duomo, still at Florence. LIFE OF CANOVA. 75 sweeps of the contours, the circles have rarely their just value, and consequently the surfaces approach the flatness of relief, rather than maintain the fulness of de- tached figures. Partly to compensate this deficiency in the advancing lines, partly as a characteristic distinction, which consists in always strongly pronouncing the mus- cles, — the retiring curves, or muscular de- pressions, are marked with exaggerated boldness. These peculiarities give to the productions of this school, in general, with the semblance of superhuman energy, the appearance of being as much anatomical studies as pleasing imitations of living na- ture. Trusting also to mechanical dexte- rity, and to the profound science which he possessed, Buonaroti was often seduced in executing the powerful conceptions of his vigorous fancy, to work from memory, without consulting the real model. This frequently produces a rigidity, — a want of feeling, even in his best performances, and paved the way for the introduction of those conventional modes which finally super- 76 LIFE OF CANOVA. seded the careful and diligent study of na- ture, and ultimately lead to the abandon- ment of every principle of genuine art. In collecting and digesting the various details, connected with the history of sculpture during the sixteenth century, one pervading principle is discovered ; which, in a rapid view of the subject, ren- ders minuteness of description less neces- sary. However near the sculptors of this period may approach their great archetype in several particulars, and even excel him in some, they remain generally inferior, while their style and manner assimilate so closely to his, that they are properly class- ed under one comprehensive term — as dis- ciples of the school of Michael Angelo. Of this school, the preceding observations have illustrated the prevailing character. A few brief notices, therefore, of his chief compeers and survivors, such as may pre- serve the series of events, and trace the diffusion of art, will thus suffice. In the Florentine and Roman schools, now united under one head by common LIFE OF CANOVA. 77 principles, and a similar style, are to be dis- tinguished two different classes of artists, — those who were merely imitators, — and those who were really the pupils of Michael Angelo. Among the former, Baccio Bandi- nelli was the rival and the enemy, rather than the follower of his illustrious contem- porary ; and this hostility was manifested in a manner equally unworthy of the man and of the artist. His works, which are numerous, doubtless exhibit great vigour of execution, and originality of invention; but his strength is without delicacy, his conceptions irregular, and his taste without refinement. The presumption and turbu- lence of his disposition usurped a tempo- rary reputation, which the suffrages of po- sterity have refused to substantiate. — Bac- cio di Monte Lupo is likewise an original artist of considerable eminence, who was almost constantly employed at Florence ; where the marble Crucifix in the church of San Lorenzo is esteemed his best perform- ance. — Andrea Contucci, the founder of the celebrated school of Loreto, is evi- 78 LIFE OF CANOVA. dently an imitator of Buonaroti, with much of his own which is excellent. — Francisco Rustici, most eminent as a founder, in his bronze statues surpasses the artists of the preceding age, in those qualities which e- specially characterized his own, — boldness and freedom of execution. To these mas- ters, other names of inferior note might be added. The school of Michael Angelo, properly so called, consisted of the following dis- ciples : — Raphael di Monte Lupo, a fa- vourite pupil of his master, by whom are two statues in the tomb of Julius II., one on each side of the Moses. — Nicholo di Tribulo, an excellent founder, whose best performances are the Gates of San Petro- nio, at Bologna. — Giovanni dell' Opera, a most prolific artist ; the statue of Archi- tecture, on the tomb of his instructor, is deservedly praised \ — Benvenuti Cellini, 1 At Florence, in the church of Santa Croce, " beata che in un tempio accolto, Serbi le Italie glorie, ultime forse." Foscolo. LIFE OF CANOVA. 79 famous alike by the productions of his pen and of his chisel, and by the romantic in- cidents of his life. The bronze statue of the Perseus is his well-known masterpiece. — Vicenzo Danti, so closely imitates the style and manner of his master, that the labours of the former are sometimes attri- buted to the latter. — Bartolomeo Am- manato is esteemed as an architect, but as a sculptor he scarcely attained mediocrity. Lastly, of all the scholars of Michael An- gelo, from the number and magnitude of his works, the beauty of his style, and the excellence of his genius, Giovanni di Bo- logna is deservedly celebrated as the most illustrious. This artist occupies a prominent station in the history of sculpture, and more par- ticularly in the Florentine school, from the death of his master to the end of the six- teenth century, and closed the series of great names with which that period was a- dorned \ In examining his performances, 1 The group of Hercules and the Centaur, one of his most esteemed and latest works, was placed on its present site at Florence late in 1600. 80 LIFE OF CANOVA. we ascertain the advances effected in the art during the last thirty years of the pre- sent era. From the death of Buonaroti, the technical part is considerably impro- ved, — mechanical operations better under- stood, and consequently execution facili- tated. Hence, in the works of Giovanni, we discover no deficiency of a high, and, in some instances, exquisite finish, al- though no preceding sculptor can boast of productions so numerous, or more impor- tant. But, even in his manner, we ob- serve the growth of those evils, which the example of his instructor introduced, — bold, rapid and masterly execution — grand and imposing composition, preferred to de- licacy of expression — truth of feeling — and attention to the study of nature. The de- terioration is of course still more apparent in the works of inferior imitators, who failed to acquire those nobler qualities, by which the errors and extravagances of mightier spirits are redeemed. Amid the troubles which agitated the rest of Italy, Venice enjoyed profound re- LIFE OF CANOVA. 81 pose. The subsequent prudence of her councils had gradually restored the disas- trous effects of the league of Cambray at the close of the fifteenth ; and, during the succeeding century, her citizens could in security pursue the arts of elegance and of commerce. Over the Venetian schools of architecture and of sculpture, while the magnificent erections which grace the Piaz- za di San Marco, with other labours were carried on, long presided the elder SansO- vino. This school is distinguished by rich- ness and magnificence of composition, but displays a frequent want of simplicity and of purity. Though decidedly adopting the style of the " Tuscan artist," whose prin- ciples Sansovino had studied at Rome ', it exhibits greater softness, with less of vigour and originality than the parent source. A- mong the most celebrated of its pupils are to be ranked Danese Cattaneo, equally con- spicuous in letters as in art ; — and Ales- 1 Sansovino fled from Rome on the sack of that ca- pital by Bourbon, to which he never returned ; but re- mained in Venice from 1527. 82 LIFE OF CANOVA. sandro Vittoria, who first rendered common the practice of working in stucco. In Naples and in Milan, at the opposite extremities of polished Italy, similar con- tingencies had introduced a similar style of art. This manner was bold, free and live- ly, in which, as principally employed on subjects of temporary interest ', rapidity of execution was more valued than learned design, or elevated principle. As the most eminent of the Lombard artists, may be selected Agostino Busti, — and Guglielmo della Porta, whose statues of Justice and Prudence, on the monument of Paul III. in St Peter's, are justly placed among the noblest efforts of modern art. Of the Nea- politan school, during this century, Marli- ano Nola, and Girolamo Santa Croce, were the great ornaments. In purity of design, however, and in vigorous effect, the artists of Naples generally rest inferior to their cotemporaries of Lombardy, who in these 1 Triumphal arches for processions, &c, decora- tions for fetes, &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 83 respects approach nearer to the great origi- nals of the Tuscan and Roman schools. In tracing the progress of modern sculp- ture during the sixteenth century, the his- torian is scarcely required to advance be- yond the confines of Italy. In the other states of Europe, the limited patronage of sovereigns, and the still more confined as- sistance of private protection, were accorded to painters in preference to sculptors. In England, — in Spain, — in Germany 1 , this was especially the case; — but in France, the expeditions of Charles VIII, and more par- ticularly of Francis I, — the refined taste of the latter, and the close connection which, under that monarch, subsisted between the two countries, diffused some knowledge of the arts of Italy. It is not, however, till late in the present century, that we trace in France a school of native sculpture of 1 Rodolph, emperor of Germany, on coming to the throne, " by and with the advice" of his valet de chain- bre, of two artists who were at his court, dismissed from his royal presence and protection Jean Mont, the sculptor, but retained Spranger of Anvers, the painter. Decamps V. de Peintres Flammands, torn. i. f2 84 LIFE OP CANOVA. any eminence, notwithstanding an earlier excellence has been claimed l . From the very origin, we trace a certain affected man- ner, both in the conceiving and in the execution of the subject, which pervades the works of the early French masters, giving to their style a peculiar cast of na- tionality, totally distinct from the charac- ter of Italian sculpture. At the same time, imitation of the latter is very evi- dent ; for the artists of this age, either di- rectly or mediately, were pupils, generally, of the Tuscan schools. — Jean Cousin, in the air of his heads, the grace of his atti- tudes, and the disposition of his draperies, of all his countrymen and cotemporaries, approaches nearest to the taste of Italy. — Jean Gougon, who perished in the massa- 1 Thus the French writers on the arts tell us, that Jacques d'Angouleme, better known by the familiar appellation of Maitre Jacques, competed with M. An- gelo himself at Rome in 1550, for a statue of St Peter; and according to their partial testimony, Vemporla par- dessus lui* This artist, however, studied and spent the greater part of his life in Italy. LIFE OF CANOVA. 85 ere of St Bartholomew's, almost rivals the excellencies of the preceding. — German Pilon displays great energy and fire, with much beauty of mechanical detail, but he is affected, and destitute of natural expres- sion. To these, the name of Francavilla is sometimes added ; but, like his master, Gio- vanni di Bologna, he is ranked more cor- rectly among the Florentine artists ; for, though Frenchmen by birth, — as sculptors both are Italians, and their principal works are to be found in Italy. The death of Michael Angelo marks the point of separation, where the history of sculpture, during the century which has now elapsed, divides into two unequal por- tions '• Throughout the whole of the for- 1 This great artist died at Rome in 1564 at a very advanced age. When Florence, his native country, was enslaved, through the power of the Pope and the Em- peror, after defending her to the last by his skill as an engineer, he fled never to return, though courted back by all that tyranny could offer. The honqurs which, when living, he refused, were bestowed upon his ashes, which were restored to his country ; and their return 86 LIFE OF CANOVA. mer and more important of these periods, the dominating supremacy of that master almost exclusively arrests the attention, and claims our undivided regard. During the second and briefer of these intervals, individual superiority ceases to continue pre-eminently conspicuous ; but it is not the equality of mediocrity ; — individual merit remains great, and the inspiring mantle of their teacher still rested on his disciples. Genius, which hitherto had rolled along in one mighty tide, surround- ed by all the dread magnificence of nature, now flows in many streams ; and as all re- tain indications of the same common ori- gin, so each also boasts its own peculiar scenes of beauty and of grandeur. Michael Angelo found the art circum- scribed in means — somewhat timid in exe- cution, — yet faithful to nature, and affect- ing in expression. Greater freedofn of style, — deeper feeling of the imaginative was a real apotheosis — a voluntary acknowledgment to the genuine nobility of genius. Condivi, Vita de M. Angelo, &c. * LIFE OF GANOVA. 87 and the elegant — were *alone wanting to constitute a high species of excellence. The outset of his career promised the attain- ment of this perfection ; but, borne away by the impetuosity of a lofty genius, which scorned all control, he too soon abandoned the imitation and the examples of real existence, to embody the creations of fan- cy. He marked the perplexities and the constraint, under which his predecessors had visibly laboured, in their endeavours to unite the actual forms of living nature with the more vigorous and refined con- ceptions of ideal beauty. Overlooking the productions of ancient art, in which this union is so happily accomplished, because, to his vigorous rather than refined percep- tion, their simplicity seemed poverty, — he resolved to adopt a style, bold, forcible, and austere ; which, seldom addressing the sensibility, should derive its powers of cap- tivating solely from the imagination \ E- 1 In his -own elegant verses, M. Angelo prefers ideal beauty to the real charms even of his mistress, the most lovely woman of the age. 38 LIFE OF CANOVA. ven the manual processes necessary to rea- lize its conceptions, were to participate in the ardent temperament of mind by which these were inspired ; — and the hand seems impatient of that very hardness of the mar- ble, which preserves to the traits of the chisel their immortality. When to produce rapid and forceful im- pressions, thus constitutes the chief object in the productions of the fine arts, — the vehement, the novel, the wonderful, will be preferred, — and the delicate, the sim- ple, the natural, will become gradually ob- scured. Accordingly, in the sculpture of the sixteenth century, — the representations of the gentler affections — the dignity of subdued emotion — the calm grace of re- pressed and unaffected action — the almost evanescent movements of milder feeling, are lost in marked, rather than elegant cha- racter — strong expression — contrasted at- " Dimmi di grazia, Amor, se gli occhi miei Veggonq il ver della belta ch' io miro, O s'io Fho di'iitro al cor, c\iv OYunque ggo pill hello il \\VA. 101 the distinctive characters of sculpture and of painting, — he claims the merit of at least following correct examples; while they imi- tated Pietro da Cortona, or Luca Giordano, he selected as models the Caracci and Do- menichino. The most celebrated perfor- mance of this artist, and, indeed, one of the most extraordinary labours of modern art, is the grand basso relievo, representing the invading Army of Attila stopped by St Leo in its march to Rome '. The department in which the talents of Fiammingo were chiefly exercised, aided perhaps in preserving his manner unconta- minated by extravagant expression, or con- ventional forms ; and, as the sculptor of children, he not only excelled every cbtem- 1 This work, the largest relievo known, is exe- cuted on five separate blocks, united with great skill. Its height is 38, and breadth 18 palms, (about 25 feet by 12). Here it has evidently been the grand object of the artist to rival the sister art ; — every thing pecu- liar to painting, colour alone excepted, has been tried. Those who have examined the celebrated original in St Peter's, must allow its utter destitution of effect, from the total want of simplicity. 102 LIFE OF CANOVA. porary, but even equalled the greatest of his predecessors. Nor was he inferior in works of greater magnitude ; though in these his taste was little calculated to secure the approbation of his own age, as not exhibit- ing sufficient indications of the grand style, — as that of Bernini was then falsely termed. For this very deficiency, his statue of St Andrew, in one of the niches of the cupo- la, is now justly regarded as one of the best colossal figures in St Peter's. As a model, Fiammingo will be found to have selected Titian, whose pictures of children hold a middle style between those of Raffaelle and Correggio ; — not so learned, pure, and cor- rect in outline as those of the former, they owe less than similar productions of the latter, to the magic though fugitive graces of shade and colouring \ 1 It is frequently maintained that Correggio was the model followed by Fiammingo. Every one, how- ever, who has carefully studied the works of that paint- er, must be aware that they are little calculated to as- sist the sculptor ; — deprive them of their chiar oscuro> and of their delicious colouring, and they are absolutely nothing. A sculptor requires more palpable guides. LIFE OF CANOVA. 103 Participating, yet faintly, in the same false principles — the two preceding artists are to be considered rather as rivals than followers of Bernini. Their style and manner are more sustained — more chastened — more severe ; and they might have prevented, or at least retarded the complete decline of sculpture, had not their merit been eclipsed by the superior re- putation, or their fortunes depressed by the advantageous position of that master. By this ascendancy so fatal to art, Algardi was kept in continued obscurity and ne- glect ; while Fiammingo to obtain employ- ment, bowed before the reigning idol, but was early poisoned by a brother jealous of The most esteemed work of Fiammingo, is the famous relievo in the church of the Apostles at Naples, repre- senting a Concert of Cherubs. Of the beautiful monu- ment in St Maria dell' Anima, at Rome — two Children supporting a curtain, Reubens thus writes to its author : " I know not how to thank you for the models of the two Children for St Mary's which you have sent me, still less can I express my opinion of their beauty. Na- ture, rather than art, appears to have sculptured them ; and the marble is softened into life." Anvers, \~th April 1640. 104 LIFE OF CANOVA. his fame. The genius of Bernini thus re- mained paramount, maintaining its supre- macy during the greater part of the seven- teenth century, — while the eighteenth was opened by the second generation of his ac- tual disciples \ Rome was thus the grand centre of cor- ruption, but what of excellence still remain- ed, was to be found there also. In Lom- bardy, Naples, Tuscany, and all over Italy, the same character prevailed, while Venice enjoyed a more barbarous perversion of its own, without the merit of producing one man of genius to redeem, or to extenuate error. To trace the progress of decline in each separate state, and through a succes- sion of artists, whose mediocrity offers no salient feature to the observer, would be equally tedious and nugatory *. 1 Bernini died in 1680. * Of these obscure artists, the name of Giovanni Gonelli, a Tuscan, may be mentioned as illustrating a very singular fact. After studying sculpture till up- wards of twenty years of age, he totally lost his sight in Mantua, during its siege in 1630. He still conti- LIFE OF CANOVA. 105 Every age has, or imagines it possesses its own great men, and, to impartial poste- rity, often seems to have been strangely prejudiced in this delusion. About the commencement of the eighteenth century, Camillo Rusconi, a Milanese, and scholar of Ferrata, a favourite pupil of Bernini, — was the great man at Rome. This artist, though as inferior to Bernini, as the lat- ter fell beneath the Tuscan masters who preceded him, was said by his compatriots to unite the correctness and majesty of the ancients, with the expression and graces of nued, however, to labour at his profession, sculptu- ring striking likenesses of several individuals of high rank, and at length of the Pope himself, (Urban VIII.) " Facendo," as Baldinucci in his quaint manner ex- presses it, " che l'uffizio degli occhi facessero le mani." He even sculptured from memory the portrait of a young woman named Elizabeth, with whom he had been in love before losing his sight. On this bust was inscribed by Cardinal Polatta the following distich : " Giovan ch' e cieco, e Lisabetta amo, La scolpi nell' idea che Amor formo." Sculptured by love, Elizabeth's portrait view, Though blind the artist, yet the work is true. 106 LIFE OF CANOVA. the moderns. Yet Rusconi was not desti- tute of talent ; with sounder principles and more refined taste, he might have ob- tained merited reputation. Nor were oc- casions wanting of exercising his powers, since in the twelve colossal statues of the Apostles, placed by Clement XL on the fa9ade of the Lateran church, he conduct- ed the only undertaking of importance, which, during this period, illustrates the history of sculpture. Of these, Rusconi himself executed four ; in the rest he was assisted by six others, whose names will point out the principal sculptors of the time : — Stephen Monnot, and Le Gros, each finished two ; — Guiseppe Mazzuoli, Francisco Moratti, Lorenzo Ottoni, Ange- lo Rossi, each produced one statue \ In these works are displayed, redeem- ed only by facility of mannered inven- tion, and by audacity of mechanical execu- 1 For every statue the artist received 2000 crowns ; but whether this included the price of the material does not appear. The whole expense to the Pope was 60,000 crowns. Rusconi was further rewarded with two benefices. LIFE OF CANOVA. 107 tion, — all the characteristic errors of this school. Grandeur of effect is sought in greatness of extent, — -and boldness of hand is substituted for sublimity of thought. The forms are buried in a load of drapery, disposed in immense masses, as is the prac- tice in pictures intended to be viewed from a distance, and exactly in the manner of the favourite painters of that age. The conclu- sion, however, is not warranted by fact, in ascribing these effects, as has been done, to the designs of Carlo Maratti '• This was a stvle of art, not derived from a new or partial source, but proceeded from a prin- ciple of exaggeration and of novelty, — to be traced, as the reader is now aware, in the works of Michael Angelo, — which was pursued as a leading object by Bernini, and received full development among his suc- cessors. Rusconi and his compeers are the last 1 See Reynolds' " Discourses," Dis. X. With the eye of an artist, Sir Joshua perceived the defect ; but, wanting the research of the historian, he ascribed the corruption to a local and temporary cause. 108 LIFE OF CANOVA. artists, who, for nearly three-fourths of the eighteenth century, merit particular no- tice ; and the work just described may be considered as the expiring effort of Italian sculpture prior to the restoration by Ca- nova. A crowd of artisans continued for a while to haunt the scenes of former glo- ry ; but to enumerate their names or pro- ductions, could neither interest the reader, nor illustrate the subject. Corruptions in taste, and extravagances of composition went on increasing, but the means of dis- playing them offered only in detail, — and, finally, the sound of the mallet was scarcely audible in a city of Italy. In the depart- ment of mere labour, the chisel was still wielded in a bold and skilful manner ; but this advantage rather augmented the evil, both as it came to be regarded the praise chiefly to be aimed at, — and as facility was thus enjoyed of following every caprice of fancy. In the fine arts, the powers of exe- cution are the last to acquire perfection, and retain excellence the longest ; — they survive — when moral beauty, sentiment, LIFE OF CANOVA. 109 and truth have long ceased to ennoble the creations which their mastery realizes. The progress of Transalpine sculpture during the preceding period, now demands our attention. In France, Lewis XIV. pa- tronised the arts with munificence beco- ming a great monarch ; and though his motives were merely political — not flowing from any innate love of elegance or refine- ment, their effects were equally beneficial. To create French artists, he established a- cademies — endowed professorships — pro- claimed rewards — instituted honours — and accomplished the object. Patronage, how- ever, cannot introduce purity of taste, nor command originality of invention ; — these are results of causes more universal in their operation, and less extrinsic in their na- ture. France has ever been under the in- fluence of that domination which Italy has always exerted in the arts, and more espe- cially in sculpture. In the present instance this influence was most direct ; and they were not the models of a purer age — the monuments of better art, that guided 110 LIFE OF CANOVA. imitation, but the works of Bernini and of his school. A similarity of circumstances also, concurred to introduce, in both coun- tries, the same vitiated style of sculpture. Le Brim in Paris maintained the same ex- clusive sway enjoyed by Bernini at Rome : Nor was this despotism of an individual master equally injurious in the respective capitals ; — the latter was indisputably a man of genius, and a sculptor, — the ascen- dancy of the former was not the superiori- ty of a great mind, and his reign was yet more fatal to sculpture, tending still farther to extend the supremacy which painting had acquired. Directing all public works, the French sculptors were necessitated to copy his designs, composed solely in the manner of painters, and without any practi- cal knowledge of their art, — or, if they op- posed this tyranny, remained unemployed \ 1 See Poussin's Letter to Pozzo. Or if those who refused to cringe to this arrogance were employed, it was only in trifling works. " Non ho tempo, ni per soddisfare a me, ni per servire ad un padrone od ami- co, essendo impiegato di continuo a bagatelle LIFE OF CANOVA. Ill The merits of Gerardon, the son of a founder at Troyes, entitled him to, and ought to have secured the success which ultimately attended his exertions, without his being forced previously to become the sycophant of Le Brun. His style of sculp- ture, though cold, is noble, and more correct than that of his contemporaries. His manner of design is also pure, and free from glaring errors, but heavy and destitute of charac- ter, and too frequently reminds the spec- tator of similar productions of ancient masters. That he was the Phidias of his age, though asserted by Fontaine, may be disputed ; but that Gerardon was a sculp- tor of great talent, if not of genius, must be acknowledged. Strongly opposed to the disposition of his compatriot, appears the character of " the fiery and energetic Puget," the fa- vourite artist of native writers \ His exe- ed altrefrascherie" Raccolt. di Lett, del Sig. Pozzo, torn, i., Pous. a Posso. Puget, the sculptor, in like manner petitioned for his dismissal " from Paris, and from Le Brun," &c. 1 Puget is styled the Michael Angelo of France. IIS LIFE OF CANOVA. cution is bold, rapid and masterly, — but in composition he is defective, in science inaccurate, and in expression without dig- nity. In every intellectual beauty of art his works are imperfect, presenting little of elevation, nobleness, or grace ; — the forms are often vulgar, and always exhibit the peculiarities of an individual model. Yet such is the vigour of mechanical detail — such the breadth and freedom of touch, that his figures appear endowed with the Sculptor — painter — architect, though what he built does not appear, and only as a sculptor is he known. The parallel, however, would not otherwise hold. — To the spirit of Ultra-liberalism which pervades the age, it may appear prejudice to assert, that if, in any one particular more than another, the national vanity of the French be offensively apparent, it is in speaking of their arts and artists. Yet such is the fact. Of this, the encomiums lavished upon Pu- get afford a striking instance. These might be par- doned ; but when a writer, in other matters so liberal and well informed as M. du Quincy, by a disingenuous supposition, endeavours to exalt the horses of Costou, now in the Champs Elysees, above those ascribed to Phidias and Praxiteles, on Mo?ite-Cavallo at Rome, we are at a loss, whether to view the assertion with greater indignation, or contempt LIFE OF CANOVA. 113 privileges of life and movement. In early youth Puget had studied painting under Pietro da Cortona, whose large and effec- tive, but unlearned style, is the most re- mote from the rigid purity of sculpture ; accordingly, its influence becomes suffi- ciently apparent in that of France, where, subsequently to this period, it was gene- rally followed. As we advance to the conclusion of the seventeenth, and especially in the early portion of the following century, French sculptors rapidly increase ; and, as the oc- casions of exercising it were more splendid, the art seemed in better condition than in Italy. The actual condition of taste, how- ever, was alike fallen in both countries. Of the artists who flourished during this interval, Sarrasin and Guillain preserved, in the Caryatides of the Louvre, some re- mains of ancient propriety ; — Le Gros and Theodon are best known at Rome ; — in France, the names of Le Pautre, Desjardin, Coysevaux, Vaucleve, the two Coustous, are still remembered with honour from nume- H 114 LIFE OF CANOV A. rous groups and statues. These, and many others of inferior note, adorned the brief golden age of French sculpture, which, un- der the imbecile Lewis XV., suffered a ra- pid decline. Bouchardon, the only artist of eminence who distinguished that reign, possessed no mean talents, but was desti- tute, of the dignity and firmness of charac- ter, requisite to enable the individual, by pursuing the dictates of his own better judgment, to oppose the caprices of reign- ing modes \ Lewis XVI. early shewed a disposition to patronise the fine arts, and had ordered a series of statues of the great men of France. That this design was never exe- cuted, can be no subject of regret ; — a renovation of principle could alone restore purity. To this series may in some mea- sure be considered to belong the statue of Voltaire by Pigal, which introduces the nar- 1 The works of this period, which adorned the ca- pital and chief provincial cities of France, being most- ly in bronze, have long since disappeared in the revo- lutionary cannon. LIFE OF CANOVA. 115 rative to the labours of living artists. Pi- gal was undoubtedly a man of talent, as his Mercury evinces ; but, in the present work, propriety has been sacrificed to an appearance of science. This statue is not draped ; and as Voltaire was remarkable for meagre leanness of person, the figure was copied from a living model, the most ema- ciated to be found ; — nor does the repre- sentation belie its prototype. " Pigal au naturel represente Voltaire ; — Le squelette a la fois offre 1'homme et Pauteur, L'ceil qui le voir, sans parure etrangere, Est effraye de sa maigreur V During the preceding period, Spain and Germany were supplied with artists, who, 1 " Here, sculptured to the life, behold Voltaire ; — This naked skeleton with hideous air, Stripped of their borrowed guise, presents to view, The squalid form — and worthless author too." The epigram has considerable point when viewed in relation to the principles of his writings, and their al- leged poverty in original matter. Pigal went to Fer- ney, in order to model the head of this statue from the life ; on which occasion, says De Grimm, Vol- taire, who had, or affected a great aversion to have his picture or bust taken, refused to sit to the artist, h2 116 LIFE OF CANOVA. from their education, necessarily dissemi- nated in these countries the vitiated taste, and false principles of the Italian schools. Spain, indeed, has never discovered any decided predilection for the art ; and her sculptors are little known beyond the walls of Madrid, of Grenada, Cordova, and Se- ville, where, in the internal decorations of the churches, their labours are chiefly pre- served. Germany has been more eminent ; and the reputation of Rauchmiiller of Vien- na — of Leigebe of Silesia — of Schluter of Berlin, is respectable among the sculptors of the eighteenth century. In the remains of early English art, which have escaped the fury of civil war and the rage of fanaticism, a singular anomaly is to be observed. From the commencement of the seventh, to the conclusion of the fourteenth century, four distinct species of architecture may be traced in the sacred and feudal edi- till one day, entertaining a large party at dinner, he was so delighted with a remark of PigaPs, which he thought a professional argument against the possibility of casting the golden calf of the Israelites, that he im- mediately promised to sit for the bust. LIFE OF CANOVA. 117 fices of Britain. From this period the art gradually declines, suffering its greatest de- terioration during the reigns of Henry VIII. and his three immediate successors, while John of Padua, and other Italian artists, are known to have been directors of the public works. In like manner, the remain- ing sculptures of the thirteenth are supe- rior to similar performances of the two succeeding centuries. From these facts a conclusion arises, totally opposed to the as- sertion made by the writers of France and of Italy, — that we derived our early art from the latter country '. Had such been the case, the same gradations as in the parent schools would have been apparent. A cor- ruption differing in this respect, and while Italian artists did preside, was produced by attempting to unite their own with the na- tional style previously existing. Subse- quently to the fifteenth century, and du- ring the era now immediately reviewed, this island could not boast the presence of a single sculptor of eminence. It reflects 1 Cicognara, Stor. del. Scult., torn. i. Du Quincy, Annales des Savans, 1819, &c. 1 18 LIFE OF CANOVA. credit, however, on the discernment of Charles I., that the best painters, and the most correct architects of the age, were patronised at his court. While Bernini, and more especially his opponent Boromi- ni, were filling Rome with edifices of li- centious architecture, and unclassic orna- ment, Inigo Jones was erecting noble struc- tures in a style so pure and elegant as ri- vals the beauties of Grecian art, and has ac- quired for their author, even in Italy, the appellation of the English Palladio r . The taste, however, was of short-lived conti- nuance, and did not extend its influence to all the arts of design. Sculpture, indeed, can scarcely be considered as indigenous in this country, before the native and distin- guished masters of the present day added this laurel also to the crown of British ge- 1 Respecting the projected palace, of which the Banqueting-house at Whitehall forms only a part, an Italian writer observes, " Se fosse compiuto, potrebbe tenersi per uno de' primi palazzi del mondo." A si- milar compliment is passed on Greenwich Hospital, " which," it is said, " but for the bravery of British seamen, would be too noble for its present purpose*" LIFE OF CANOVA. 119 mus. Cibber, Roubilliac — all our noted sculptures anterior to the late Bacon, were foreigners. Their isolated labours, like- wise, tending little to the establishment of a national school,— • supported chiefly by private patronage, and exercised on few public works, are connected too remotely with the general history of the art, to re- quire in this place particular illustration. The various secondary causes which, from the death of Michael Angelo, contri- buted to the decline of sculpture, may be arranged under two general divisions : — Mistaken ideas of excellence entertained by professors : — Unfavourable state of pa- tronage. i. In the fine arts, the empire of imagi- nation is bounded by that relative truth which it is the object of each to attain, — and by the peculiar means employed to express this relation. Beyond these li- mits, the excursions of fancy cease to af- ford pleasure, both as its creations are then opposed to nature, and as they vio- 120 LIFE OF CANOVA. late the essential character of the particu- lar art. In these respects poetry enjoys a wider range than painting, while sculp- ture is more confined than either. The objects which the sculptor pursues are two, — form and character ; — yet even in these the principles of his art admit a more li- mited selection than is granted to the poet or to the painter. As the legitimate pur- poses of sculpture, then, are circumscribed, attempts at innovation are more dangerous : The desire of novelty, therefore — a conti- nued effort to extend the boundaries of the art, by the introduction of imaginary per- fections inconsistent with its real excellen- cies, — were the rocks on which the sculp- tors of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen- turies made fatal shipwreck of truth, of simplicity, and of beauty. These supposed improvements were di- rected to the acquisition of four grand ob- jects. — A style of composition was aimed at, more purely ideal, and less connected with nature, than is exhibited either in the remains of ancient art, or in the works of LIFE OF CANOVA. 121 early modern masters. — As characteristics of this imaginative style, the proportions are enlarged, the expressions exaggerated, and indications of power and energy thus sought, more prominent than reality ever presents. — Sculpture was assimilated as closely as possible to painting, m'erit be- ing estimated by the extent to which imi- tation w 7 as carried, not only in the legerity of effect, and complication of detail, but, latterly, in the facility of production.— Finally, a bold and masterly execution was substituted for the nobler and more im- portant beauties of correctness and purity. The French school being merely a scion of those of Italy, similar modes obtained in both, while the former possessed its own peculiar and additional corruptions. In search of what thev termed native charac- ter and native grace, the French sculptors deviated still farther from the forms of the antique, and from the principles of the Flo- rentine masters. In this they should at least have enjoyed the advantage of imi- tating nature, but, adopting conventional 122 LIFE OF CANOVA. practices, they produced only affectation and grimace '. The principles and prac- tice of other schools served only more wide- ly to disseminate the preceding irregulari- ties. Such, with various injudicious changes in the volume, disposition, and forms of drapery, were the leading errors in a sys- tem, which, from Michael Angelo down- wards, is marked by increasing destitution of simplicity and verity. Each succeeding age strove to excel in the pursuit of novel- ty, — while successive efforts at meretricious improvement, and in the hands of those who still commanded great facility of exe- cution, tended only, more quickly to de- 1 " Rien ne fut simple et nature!, pas meme les por- traits" says one of their own writers, speaking of this period, and of the same art ; yet anxious to save the credit of his country in the article of beauty, he labours to prove that it certainly exists there, though the French sculptors unfortunately missed it, since the Grecian profile is not uncommon, and as the facial angle is frequently 90°, he himself observed it 95° ! — David. Es. sur FArt Stat. p. 472. The subject is iv- commeiukd to the consideration of craniologists. LIFE OF CANOVA. 123 stroy every lingering remain of good taste and of true science. Nature being aban- doned for the prestiges of fancy, — the powers of original conception, and of vi- gorous feeling, became effete in manner- ism, affectation, and absurdity. ii. However deficient even that patron- age, which merely affords employment, had finally been rendered in the majority of the Italian states, yet during the seven- teenth, and early part of the last century, neither in Rome, nor at the French court, was encouragement wanting. In both in- stances, however, under the Papal, no less than by the French government, the moral effects of an enlightened, liberal and im- partial patronage were overlooked or dis- regarded. Court influence conferred on some favourite painter or sculptor the sole direction of all public works ; who thus became the only channel through which reward or distinction was to be obtained. Of such a system the natural consequences were, — to extinguish the inspiring compe- tition of genius — to substitute the artifices 124 LrFE OF CANOVA. of intrigue for the independent exertions of talent — to impose dictation where freedom is indispensable to excellence, — and to propagate the peculiar style or notions of an individual master, instead of fostering the precepts of genuine art, and the just principles of taste. In every country, also, that the fine arts, and more especially sculpture, may be cul- tivated with success, they must not only be protected by government, — they must be cherished as objects of national feeling. But during the era, and in the countries now treated of, patronage was merely the result of personal predilection, or of poli- tical views on the part of the sovereign, — followed, perhaps, from ostentation, by some of the chief nobility. It was not a sentiment animating the great body of the people ; nor were the splendid monuments which arose in the respective capitals re- garded as subjects with which the happi- ness and glory of the nation were associa- ted. This partial support being withdrawn — the arts having thus no hold on national LIFE OF CANOVA. 125 enthusiasm, the only permanent stay, as respects both duration and refinement, of the more ornamental appendages of civili- zation, gradually sunk into degradation and neglect. On the extent, propriety and effects of government protection in the instance of the fine arts, opinions the most hostile have indeed been entertained. In opposi- tion, however, to two principal theories, which the reasonings on this subject go to maintain, — it clearly appears, from an at- tentive examination of their history in those countries where they have been most successfully practised ;— zfirst, That the fine arts can never permanently flourish as in- struments in the hands of despotic rulers ; — and, secondly, Painting and sculpture can never be cultivated with success in any country, however enlightened or however free, where the aid and protection, and cordial co-operation of government are de- nied. In the former case, the sacred influence of national sentiment, — that community of 1 26 LIFE OF CANOVA. feeling which appreciates and preserves pure taste, — which animates genius by the proud consciousness of universal utili- ty, and of general esteem, is wanting. The people naturally regard with distrust and jealousy the measures of despotism, — re- jecting communion or participation in its designs. The arts, therefore, under these circumstances, can enjoy but a temporary splendour in subserviency to a particular purpose, and passing state of things. In the latter instance — without the countenance and support of government, the fine arts, it must be evident, never can acquire dignity and importance, so as to render them objects of national interest. The evils of private judgment in corrupt- ing taste — the dependence of professors — the absence of a co-operating spirit of ge- neral enthusiasm, must prove even more injurious, where the labours of the artist are merely viewed as ministering to pri- vate luxury and show. In the republics of Greece — in the cities of Italy, those primeval scats of elegance and freedom, LIFE OF CANOVA. 127 the arts were not only patronised and en- couraged by the state, but were absolutely under the control of its rulers ; — thus sup- plying one of the most fruitful sources of political power, and closely interwoven with policy — with religion — even with in- dividual character. National feeling was directed to the creation of splendid monu- ments, while these were made to recipro- cate a powerful sympathy in cherishing the energies of patriotism, and in supporting a constitution under which designs so glo- rious were meditated, and undertakings so magnificent accomplished. The fine arts, then, are most likely to at- tain the highest degree of excellence, when, among a free opulent and intelligent peo- ple, they are fostered by a liberal govern- ment, and protected by a sovereign of en- lightened mind, and of elegant taste. The progress of modern sculpture has now been traced, from its first feeble es- says in the infancy of the art, to the noble productions of its splendid maturity. A 128 LIFE OF CANOVA. less grateful task has likewise been accom- plished, in marking the gradations of de- cline to its worse than second childhood, in the latter part of the last century. But here the advances of decay were to be ar- rested, and vigour and beauty again soon to be restored. In a remote district of Italy, a future renovator had even then commenced his career ; and the attention must now be directed to the life and la- bours of Canova. LIFE OF CANOVA. 129 CHAPTER III. Birth and parentage of Canova — Left to the care of his grandmother — Anecdotes, character and attain- ments of his grandfather Pasino — Juvenile studies and amusements of Canova — Remarks on biography — Canova becomes assistant to his grandfather — Anecdotes of his introduction to the family of his first patron — Description of his youthful person and manners — Studies carried on under his first master — Anecdotes of his state of mind — Observations on genius — Death of his master — Canova prosecutes his studies at Venice. V enice, whose schools of architecture and of design are justly celebrated among the earliest nurseries of modern art, claims like- wise, if not as a native, at least as a subject and a pupil, the great restorer of living sculp- ture. Among the former and more splendid dependencies of this once powerful republic, is the obscure village of Possagno, situate amid the recesses of the hills of Asolano, where these form the last undulations of 130 LIFE OF CANOVA. the Venetian Alps, as they subside into the plains of Treviso. A place, thus secluded by nature from observation, and hitherto unnoticed from its own insignificance, boasts the birth of the greatest artist of this, or perhaps, every thing considered, of any pre- ceding age. In Possagno, on the morning of the 1st of November 1757, was born Antonio Canova. The mud-walled cabins of an alpine village witnessed, during the first twelve years of existence, the dawnings of that mind, whose productions now con- stitute the most precious treasures of the noblest palaces. Nor were the disadvantages of a remote and obscure locality compensated by the possession of wealth, or the lustre of paren- tage. Pietro ', the father of our Antonio, followed the occupation of a stone-cutter ; while his mother was in nowise distinguish- ed from the simple females of her native 1 In some biographical sketches published many years ago in the Italian Journals, he is improperly named Francisco, an error which has been copied in- to the still more erroneous accounts of travellers. LIFE OF CANOVA. 131 hamlet. Of these humble parents, Canova was the only child. At the period of his son's birth, Pietro still resided under the paternal roof, and continued without a separate establishment till 1760, when he died at an early age. The premature occurrence of this event precludes extensive information concerning him ; nor, from the few hints that are pre- served, does there seem cause for regretting the absence of more lengthened detail. He appears to have been a man of melancholy habits, and of a weakly constitution ; not remarkable for talents of any kind, and in this respect greatly inferior to his father Pasino ; with whom, either as assistant, or in partnership, he had always continued to work \ A few months after the demise of her former husband, the mother of our artist entered again into a state of wedlock, and settled in the neighbouring village of Cres- 1 The family of Canova is said to have furnished stone-cutters to the village of Possagno for several ages. i 2 132 LIFE OF CANOVA. pano. The name of her new spouse was Sartori ; but of what condition or occupa- tion does not clearly appear. The only offspring of these second nuptials was a son, who still survives, the Abbot Giovanni Battista Sartori Canova. This brother was the object of Canova's tenderest attachment, whom he patronized and supported in early life, and constituted his heir at death ; confiding to him the completion of several designs in which he was then engaged l . When his mother removed to Crespa- no, on the occasion of her second marriage, Canova, then about three years old, remain- ed at Possagno under the protection of his grandfather, Pasino. Thus, at an age when 1 II fratello d. Gio. Battista Sartori Canova, erede universale ed esecutore delle mie disposizioni, e cos- tituito nel diritto e nella liber ta di fare quelle eccezioni, o alterazioni alle mie testimentarie disposizioni, &c. — " My brother, John Baptist Sartori Canova, sole heir and executor of my dispositions, is invested with the power and liberty of making these exceptions and al- terations in my testamentary dispositions," &c. Ex- tract from Canova's Will — Introduction, LIFE OP CANOVA. 133 he could scarce yet lisp their names, was he deprived of both parents '. This loss, so ge- nerally irreparable, was most amply supplied by the tender care of Catterina Ceccato, his paternal grandmother. As if presaging the eminence which her grandson was destined to attain, With future hope she oft would gaze Fond, on his little, early ways ; and to the recollections of this attachment, are we indebted for many anecdotes of his almost infant years. She nursed his delicate frame with the kindest assiduity; watched his progress with the most affectionate so- licitude ; and directed his childish acquire- ments in the best manner her own limited information permitted. The good old ma- tron lived to see the object of her early care prove worthy of it : and Canova, than whom no one ever more warmly cherished the genial influence of every social, every benevolent feeling, enjoyed one of the best 1 " Quasi ancor balbettante" says Canova, in one of his letters. 134 LIFE OF CANOVA. and purest of pleasures, — that of repaying former benefits. After the death of his grandfather, as soon as he could afford her an asylum such as age required, and gratitude would wish to offer, he brought the kind Catterina to reside with him at Rome ; and his friends still remember, that to make the evening of her life decline in peace was a care ever nearest his heart : — How amiable does genius appear, when exercised in the gentle offices of the heart. What a noble dignity do virtue and talents mutually lend to each other ! The sculp- tor of the Graces and of the Perseus excites not greater admiration, than the same in- dividual, thus engaged in administering to the happiness and comfort of an aged rela- tive '. 1 Canova sculptured the bust of his grandmother, in the dress of her native province, which was the same as that of Titian's mother, as seen in the pictures of that master. This bust he kept in his own apartments. Pointing it out one day to an individual with whom the author had the pleasure of being acquainted at Rome, and to whom he is indebted for much valuable information, Canova said with emotion, " That is a LIFE OF CANOVA, 135 Pasino Canova, the grandfather of our art- ist, was distinguished by a character of face- tiousness and of goodnature, that rendered him extremely popular amongst his equals, over whom he exercised a species of ascen- dancy ; while the more valuable qualities of skill and diligence in his occupation, re- commended him to the employment, and even to the regard of his superiors. His acquirements, considering the situation in which he had always been placed, and the slender means of attainment he had enjoy- ed, seem to have been far from despicable. He possessed some knowledge of architec- ture ; — designed with neatness and facility ; — and shewed considerable taste in the exe- cution of ornamental works in stucco, and sometimes in marble. His performances piece which I greatly value ; — it is the likeness of her to whom I owe as much as it is possible for one human being to owe to another ;" adding, with a smile, " You ladies are usually solicitous about appearances. You see my grandmother is dressed nearly as Titian's mo- ther is represented by that artist ; but, unless affection render me a partial judge, my relation is by much the finer old woman." — Letter to the Author. 136 LIFE OF CANOVA. in the latter material, are still to be seen in the altars and chapels of several churches in the adjacent villages. Some of these are likewise incrusted with the more rare and valuable species of stone. He is said also to have executed relievos, and even statues in marble with passable skill. Of the latter, indeed, a specimen still remains, in the figures of two Angels which orna- ment the high altar in the church of Mon- fumo \ But these, as will afterwards ap- pear, were executed from models the com- position of his grandson. This extent of the old man's know- ledge, is most probably exaggerated by the benevolence of friends, and more espe- cially by excusable partiality in the ac- counts of his early instructor, subsequently given by his grandson. This may reason- ably be inferred from the circumstance of the latter being placed, at a very tender age, under a different master, a change al« * A village, or rather town, at some distance from Passagno. LIFE OF CANOVA. 137 together unnecessary, if the system of in- struction to be obtained at home had been thus comprehensive. Pasino, however, cer- tainly possessed talents and ingenuity in his own limited sphere. He appears to have been one of those self-taught artists, whom the necessities of a situation remote from large cities and better assistance, have occasionally caused to be employed in de- partments rather above their own proper occupation ; and whose natural shrewdness has enabled them, profiting by these oppor- tunities, to acquire some skill in various branches of collateral art. A stone-cutter, as in the present instance, may thus at times aspire to the functions of the sculp- tor. Be this as it may, the memory of the intelligent and good-humoured Pasino me- rits our esteem, for his attention to the early education of the subject of these me- moirs. The history of genius is too fre- quently only a sad narrative of intellec- tual energies repressed by penury, or of prevailing predilections thwarted in the 138 LIFE OF CANOVA. choice of a congenial profession. Canova suffered under all the privations inflicted by poverty ; but the very narrowness of his circumstances produced the melancholy advantage of being, from childhood, train- ed to an occupation at least remotely con- nected with sculpture. In the little An- tonio, his grandfather contemplated, not without pride, the support of the name, and his own destined assistant and succes- sor. The old man regarded his profession with fond partiality, and resolved that no care should be wanting to render his grand- son accomplished in the knowledge which he himself possessed. Whatever of decid- ed inclination, could at so early an age have developed itself in the mind of the future sculptor, the taste and the acquirements of his grandfather thus sufficed in the first in- stance to cherish- — a most important object in the formation of what is termed genius, and for some years, might direct. Almost from the moment that Tonin's ' hand could 1 Tonin is the provincial diminution for Antonio, and very commonly employed in the Venetian States. LIFE OF CANOVA. 139 hold a pencil, this affectionate instructor began to initiate him in the principles of drawing, — justly regarding this as the best means of acquiring proficiency in other branches. Considerably later, but still at a very tender age, he commenced execu- ting models in clay ; and the little round of his infantine attainments may be consi- dered as complete, when he had learned to fashion the larger fragments of marble cuttings into ornaments of various kinds. These productions of early ingenuity re- presented inanimate objects only ; and he had reached a much later period of life be- fore attempting the imitation of the human figure, in any more refractory material than the soft substances used in modelling. Of these his primitive labours in sculpture, two small shrines of Carrara marble, of which, one is likewise inlaid with coloured stones, both executed in Canova's ninth year, yet remain in the villa of his first pa- tron \ 1 " Tabernacoli piccioli" are the words used by Fa- lier the Younger, who adds, " coi quali giuocolammo 140 LIFE OF CANOVA. Thus were passed the years of childhood, in occupations that might be termed stu- dies, when compared with the manner in which this season of life is usually spent ; — studies tending to the formation of decided aims and tastes, if they did not terminate in actual acquirement. The moral in- fluences of this judicious training were ac- cordingly soon apparent. Attention was never the effect of compulsion, or of con- finement to certain pursuits, but seemed to others, as to the individual himself, the result of natural inclination ; and a casual or superficial observer would have pro- nounced, that Canova was formed by na- ture with dispositions for that art, in which he afterwards excelled. The society, or the sports of the other villagers possessed no attractions ; and the " sullen Tonin," for so was he styled by the petulant levity of his youthful compeers, was constantly to insieme nei diletti dell' innocenza," — with which we amused ourselves in the delights of innocence, — viz. young Canova and himself. LIFE OF CANOVA. 141 be found, either in his grandfather's work- shop, or hanging at the side, listening to the instructions, and conning the legendary lore of his grandmother. Sorely to the annoyance of the good old lady, the evi- dences of her grandson's attachment were generally but too visible in the marks of tiny hands, impressed in modelling clay, which her side drapery usually disclosed. Her tales and ballads, indeed, presented an allurement that frequently drew her young charge from his favourite employment, and seemed for a time to hold with these, over his enthusiastic and ardent mind, divided sway. Even in after life this taste survived. His friends yet recollect the pleasure he would often express on hearing similar com- positions, and the animation with which he would occasionally recite, in the rich and expressive dialect of his native pro- vince, from the stores his infant memory had thus collected. It is an observation frequently repeated, that the lives of men of genius rarely a- bound in materials for the biographer, or, 142 LIFE OF CANOVA. consequently, in interest for the reader. Nor can it be denied that disappointment is often experienced, on perusing the me- moirs even of those whose productions have been most admired. But does not this, in the majority of instances, proceed either from unreasonable expectations, or injudicious selection ? From extraordinary eminence in reputa- tion, the reader is apt to anticipate events in life equally uncommon, without reflecting on the means which, in the career now spo- ken of, must have principally conduced to this elevation. The loftier powers of in- tellect necessarily require, in order to their full development and vigorous exercise, re- tirement from the more active and gayer scenes of life. According to the peculiar nature of the pursuit, a large portion of existence must be spent in the contem- plative seclusion of the library, or in the retired industry of the studio. To him whose days are thus passed in the constant pursuit of mental excellence, life can sel- dom be expected to abound in striking vi- LIFE OF CANOVA. 143 cissitude, surprising incident, or varied ad- venture. Time glides along unmarked by- events, leaving on record little more than the useful though unobtrusive annals of knowledge increased, judgment strength- ened, or errors reformed. If, however, disappointment sometimes arise from the paucity of materials, it is more frequently occasioned by want of discrimination in selecting from those which are actually presented. The bio- graphy of an individual, illustrious in let- ters or in art, ought chiefly to exhibit a correct appreciation of intellectual capabili- ties and acquirements, with details of those exertions or exercises which have led to eminence. Nor will the general feeling or utility of the impressions, as seems to have been apprehended, be thus weakened. Ge- nius, like Virtue, is universal in the influence of its example. By identifying its posses- sor with the history and progress of his art, not only this is illustrated and improved, but every department of knowledge or of taste — of imagination or of science derives 144 LIFE OF CANOVA. more or less advantage. To mark the first feeble indications of superior powers ; — to watch the scions of intellect in their increa- sing vigour ; — to trace that course of dis- cipline and of study, which has conducted through successive gradations of improve- ment; — to ascertain those causes which have principally aided in the acquisition of com- parative excellence, must prove not only highly instructive, but generally interesting. Such details, when fully and accurately gi- ven, constitute the best school of expe- rience, by encouraging the exertions, while they direct the efforts, of youthful talent. The lofty and ardent aspirations of emula- tive minds thus meet responsive glowings, in the exalted aims and noble enthusiasm which once animated congenial souls. The friendly light which guides — the inspiring flame which creates living worth, are thus kindled at the pyre of departed genius. In perusing the memoirs of Canova, re- flections similar to the preceding must fre- quently occur to the reader. The life of this eminent artist will be found, not in- LIFE OF CANOVA. 115 deed devoid of incident ; yet the princi- pal events almost exclusively derive in- terest from their relation with, and in- fluence on his peculiar pursuits. If early in his career he had great difficulties to contend against — many obstacles to sur- mount, the estimation of these is impor- tant, chiefly as viewed in connection with his professional progress, or as illustrating the state of cotemporary taste, and the then existing condition of the fine arts. If his subsequent advancement was rapid, and the disparity great between his original station and the situation finally occupied in society, these vicissitudes effected no change in the private habits or character of the man, and are to be considered as merely secondary occurrences in a life pass- ed entirely in studious seclusion, and assi- duously devoted to the attainment of still higher excellence. Raised to elevated rank — loaded with honours — filling Eu- rope with his renown, the workshop still continued the only theatre of Canova's am- bition ; and the narrative of his life must 146 LIFE OF CANOVA. acquire its chief interest and utility, from attention to those silent and unobtrusive operations of industry and of genius, which formed, by the labours of a single indivi- dual, a new and brilliant epoch in the his- tory of art. Various causes thus combine in recom- mending, on the present occasion, an en- deavour to display the studies and talents, to examine the works and intellectual ener- gies of the artist, rather than merely an at- tempt to give an amusing relation of the few events unconnected with these, which have marked the unpretending life of the individual. Accounts of those illustrious characters who have extended the bounda- ries of knowledge, or multiplied the re- sources of elegance, prove instructive, ac- cording as they enable more fully to ap- preciate their mental endowments ; and ought to enlarge on this subject, in pro- portion as, by mental exertions, they have deserved well of mankind. Such a me- thod it is therefore most necessary to ob- LIFE OF CANOVA. 147 serve in the present instance, where these exertions have consummated an impor- tant and splendid reformation in taste ; where the example has not only shaken the influence of models too long revered, — but where the works will serve as guides for ages to come ; — where the effects are thus identified, not only with the state of present, but, in some measure, with the history of past, and the anticipations of fu- ture art. If for a moment, the narrative glance from the pursuits of the artist, it will be to expatiate on a theme no less pleasing — the benevolence of the man ; — to exhi- bit in the same mind, the noble union of virtue and of genius. " But let not sculpture — painting — poesy, Or they, the masters of these mighty spells, Detain us ; our first homage is to virtue V As young Canova continued to advance in years and improvement, the workshop ceased to become merely his play-ground, and its occupations the amusements of 1 Italy; a Poem. K 2 148 LIFE OF CANOVA. his voluntary application. It was neces- sary to think early and more seriously of that profession, by which he was to earn his future livelihood. Accordingly, soon after the completion of his ninth year, An- tonio appears to have been employed con- stantly under his grandfather ; regular- ly assisting in those labours for which his strength and capacity were fitted. Du- ring the intervals, when not thus engaged, his favourite pursuits of drawing and mo- delling were resumed with increased ar- dour, and it may be presumed with corre- sponding success. This, his early profi- ciency in drawing at least, would indicate ; in other respects his attainments could be only very remotely connected with fu- ture and more elevated studies. In this situation he remained for about three years, destined, in a]l seeming probability, to bury his talents in a humble and laborious oc- cupation, and confined to the obscure pre- cincts of his native village. But the fa- vourable crisis, which was to call him from seclusion 9 and to place within his reach in- LIFE OF CANOVA. 149 struction and acquisitions, to which he ne- ver could otherwise have aspired, was now near at hand. The country round Possagno presents considerable beauty of natural scenery, and lying near the Alps, enjoys during the heats of summer refreshing breezes from the mountains. These advantages render this a desirable situation whence to retire from the confinement and bustle of a city. At the period of which we now speak, there were accordingly in this vicinity several villas of the Venetian nobility, in which their opulent proprietors were then accus- tomed to reside during some months of each season. In the repairs, or minor em- bellishments of these retreats, Pasino Ca- nova, recommended by his superior inge- nuity, which precluded the necessity of sending artists from the capital, was fre- quently employed. On these occasions he was now generally accompanied by his youthful assistant. Among the residences in which they were thus most commonly engaged, and at 150 LIFE OF CANOVA. no great distance from the village of Pos- sagno, is the villa d'Asolo, contiguous to the little town of the same name, and be- longing to the Patrician family Falier, or Falie?i, of Venice. Signor Giovanni Fa- lier, the proprietor, and head of the family, entertained a particular regard for the grandfather of our artist, the effect of long acquaintance, and of the old man's good qualities. No season passed without seve- ral visits from Pasino ; and he was often invited to spend a few days at the villa, even when the assistance of his skill was not re- quired '. 1 " Era mio padre molto affezionato a Pasino, e comeche faceto fosse, e gioviale, e non lontana la nos- tra villeggiatura, in villa d'Asolo da Possagno, gradi- va di tenerlo in que' tempi di frequente con se." Me- morie, &c. dal Sig. G. Falier, p. 8. This is Giuseppe Falier, the early friend of Canova, whose authority in every thing relative to the youthful studies of the lat- ter is of the utmost value. His pamphlet extends on- ly to thirty-two pages ; but, in almost every instance, the author has found its statements corroborated by his own private letters and information. The Signor falier is still alive, and much esteemed at Venice. He possesses several very early productions of his friend. LIFE OF CANOVA. 151 By this means young Canova was first introduced to the senator Falier, who after- wards became his most zealous patron ; by the whole family, likewise, he was soon recognised as a universal favourite. Be- tween him and Giuseppe Falier, the young- er son, in particular, who were both at the happy age yet unconscious of the ar- tificial distinctions of rank, a friendship then commenced, which terminated only with the life of the former. Few indeed could at this time know the amiable and unassuming boy, without feeling an affec- tion for him. His light and graceful figure — his finely formed and expressive counte- nance, beaming at once with sensibility and fire, interested at first sight ; while the un- affected simplicity of his address — the mo- dest diffidence, but not awkward timidity of his manner — his goodness of heart, and and a numerous collection of his letters ; which, how- ever, as described by one who perused them, are more interesting from the name of the writer, than from their matter. 152 LIFE OF CANOVA. ingenuous disposition, could not fail to im- prove these favourable impressions \ The friendly regard he had long enter- tained for old Pasino, joined to the inte- rest which the boy himself had excited, — while a convenient opportunity present- ed of placing him in the way of receiving better instruction, induced the Signor Fa- lier to receive Can ova at this period under his immediate protection. He thought there appeared in the youthful artist ta- lents that promised much. A little en- couragement and more extensive tuition would elicit these, or, at least, render him better qualified to succeed in his present occupation. At all events, the ardent pas- sion which he betrayed for the arts deser- ved to be cherished, while the qualities of 1 E chi poteva conoscerlo anche nella prima eta sua e non interessarsi di lui ? La sensibilita del suo cuore, la vivacita del suo spirito, la sincerita, la sem- plicita, la docilita, &c. impegnarono mio padre a pren- derlo in distinta cura, &c. Falier, p. 9. ; Paravin. &c. Letters to the Author. his heart merited encouragement and as- sistance. Such were the events which introduced Canova to his earliest patron, and such were the motives which induced Falier to extend his protection to the youth. It has indeed been asserted by an Italian writer, and from him copied by various others, that a mere accident was the occasion of this interesting connection. At a festival, it is said, which was celebrated in the villa Falier, and attended by a numerous assem- bly of Venetian nobility, the domestics had neglected to provide an ornament for the dessert, without discovering the omission, till the moment it was required to be sup- plied. Fearing lest they should on this ac- count incur their master's displeasure, and being in the greatest terror, they applied to Pasino, who then happened to be engaged at work in the house, accompanied by his grandson. The old man's invention could suggest no remedy; — his youthful associate, seeing the necessity of the case, desired some butter to be provided ; and from this 154 LIFE OF CANOVA. material presently carved a lion, with such skill and effect, that, on being presented at table, it excited the attention and received the applause of all present. So singular an ornament naturally produced inquiry. The servants were questioned ; — the whole was disclosed, and Tonin Canova decla- red to be the contriver. Tonin was imme- diately called for ; and blushing, — half reluctant, apprehensive of having done something amiss, was ushered into the brilliant assembly ; — when, to his great re- lief, instead of rebuke, he received praises and caresses from the whole company. From this circumstance, it is stated, his ta- lents for sculpture were first discovered by the Senator Falier, who from thenceforth resolved to encourage them, by patronizing their possessor \ 1 Memorie Trivigiane suite opere di disegno f del Padre Federici, 2 torn, quarto. A work of no great merit, but which nevertheless has, on this occasion, been very generally followed. In his admirable " Ca- talogo Ragionato" of Books on the Works of Art, Ci- cognara designates this " due tome in uno," with no LIFE OF CANOVA. 155 The anecdote may very possibly be true ; nay, there are many reasons for crediting its veracity, but certainly the circumstance which it records was not, either the occa- sion of Canova's first introduction to the family of Falier, or the cause of the subse- quent patronage which he experienced. The connection was in truth more ho- nourable both to the patron and to the ob- ject of his bounty. It was the result not of a fortuitous occurrence, — nor founded on a momentary feeling, but proceeded from previous and long-established intercourse, from a conviction on the one side that there were on the other talents, and espe- cially a disposition which merited protec- tion. Some months previous to this period of the narrative, which has now conducted Antonio to the completion of his twelfth other remark. Falier expressly says, " Non si allega la storiella del Leoncino di burro, asserita dal P. Fe- derici nelle sue Memorie Trivigiane, perche, se anche vera, essa non fu certo il motivo dell interesse pre- sone da mio Padre." 156 LIFE OF CANOVA. year, Giuseppe Bernardi, sur named Toretto, a Venetian sculptor, had settled at the villa di Pagnano, a short distance from Asolo. Bernardi had studied sculpture under his uncle Giuseppe Toretto, distinguished by the appellation of the Elder, by whom he had been adopted, and whose name, in consequence, he had assumed. This artist was considered as one of the most skilful then in Venice, and had fixed his tempo- rary residence at Pagnano, in order to fi- nish on the spot various works of embel- lishment, in the prosecution of which he was then engaged. Bernardi, or, as he is more generally called, Toretto, had for- merly executed several statues, as orna- ments for the villa d' Asolo, in the grounds of which these works, along with others of his different cotemporaries, are still to be seen. On this account, Falier was not only well acquainted with his merits as a sculptor, but was in turn regarded by the artist as a friend and patron. The pre- sent, therefore, appeared a most favourable LIFE OF CANOVA. 157 opportunity for placing his interesting pro- tege in a situation to acquire the best in- struction in the profession, while his ten- der age would still enjoy the superintend- ing care of relatives and friends. Induced by these considerations, the benevolent se- nator not only settled Canova under the tuition of Toretto, but also recommended him to this new master with the same anxiety as if he had been his own son '. Nor was Toretto inattentive to his charge, but seems to have paid every attention to a pupil, whom he quickly discovered to possess no ordinary talents, and whose gen- tle manners, united to a docile disposition, soon gained his affection and esteem. During nearly two succeeding years that were passed at Pagnano, Canova, ever assi- duous in the pursuit of improvement, ex- hibited the same unceasing industry which distinguished his future life ; and which, 1 " L'eccesiva passione che brillava nel giovanetto Cauova per il disegno, lo determino, non dird a rac- comandarlo, ma a consegnarlo al Toretto come sefiglio sao." Falier. 158 LIFE OF CANOVA. whatever may be the common and vague notions respecting the omnipotence of na- tive powers in the production of works of talent, must ever constitute the best assu- rance of anticipated eminence, even in ge- nius. Many drawings and models, the fruits of this application, are still preserved in the Falier family, as also in the collec- tions of various individuals in Venice and elsewhere. Among those possessed by the former, are two drawings in chalk, repre- senting one a Venus, and the other a Bac- chus, both executed only a few days after their author had been placed with Toretto, and valued, therefore, as shewing the de- gree of perfection which, under his grand- father, he had been able to attain. These, considered as the performances of a boy not exceeding twelve years of age, from the boldness of style, and correctness of outline, are said to discover very considerable pro- gress in this department. Indeed, there is reason to believe, that the only valuable ac- quisition which resulted from old Pasino's instructions, consisted in a ready use of the LIFE OF CANOVA. 159 pencil, as, during their continuance, the really useful studies of his grandson had been confined chiefly to drawing. It does not appear whether those in question were taken from casts, or from other drawings of the figures which they represent ; but they are stated to have been executed in surprisingly short intervals of study, snatch- ed from more laborious and less grateful employment. The works, however, which during this period afforded the greatest pleasure to the friends of young Antonio, and which ex- cited the utmost surprise in his master, were the models, in clay, of two Angels, executed during a short absence of Toretto, and without assistance from any similar fi- gures. These, therefore, are the first real- ly original labours of Canova's hand. Be- ing finished in secrecy and in haste, they were then placed in a conspicuous situa- tion in the workshop, against the expected return of his master. The hopes and fears with which his instructor's looks were 160 LIFE OF CANOVA. watched may easily be imagined. When at length the anxiously longed-for crisis arrived ; and Toretto's eye rested on these new creations of his trembling pupil ; he is said to have remained in astonishment, exclaiming, " Ecco un lavor veramente maraviglioso '." He could scarcely be per- suaded that a work so perfect had been executed by the boy, who, all former ap- prehensions now dissipated, stood smiling before him, and enjoying his surprise z . Soon after this occurrence, that is, in the second year of his present engagement, and the fourteenth of his age, Canova appears to have made his first essay in the repre- sentation of the human form in marble. It would seem, however, that this circum- stance marks only a higher and more diffi- cult species of amusement, rather than an advanced gradation in regular study. His 1 " This is in truth a most astonishing work." * From these models, Pasino, as already mention- ed, executed his best work, the two Angels in pietra dura, which ornament the high altar at Monfumo. LIFE OF CANOVA. 161 first efforts in this department were, in fact, the employment merely of such hours as were not engaged in the more mechani- cal labours of his profession. These per- formances were reserved as presents for his friends, and were neither countenanced by the orders, nor assisted by the directions of his master ; while from the diminutive size of those that remain, such labours could but little aid his progress in sculpture \ The years passed at Pagnano were often recalled by Can ova, even in the height of reputation, as forming, in many respects, one of the happiest periods of his life. The kindly feelings of his generous nature were soothed and cherished by uninterrupted intercourse with those he loved. He was surrounded by his friends, almost in the bosom of his own family, and engaged in studies most congenial to his mind ; while, at the same time, he saw his progress prove a constant source of pleasure to those who 1 Two of these statues, about a foot high, and in alabaster of Florence, are still in the villa Falier. 162 LIFE OF CANOVA. then composed all he knew of the world, and whom alone he could desire to please. During the winter, when the family of his patron returned from their villa at Asolo to Venice, he still enjoyed the company of his friend, young Falier, who, for the pur- poses of education, remained with a cler- gyman resident in the vicinity ". With a companion whom he so much loved, and in visiting his grandmother and the good old Pasino, were spent every holiday, and every interval not devoted to study. Even at this early age, the grand outlines of his character such as with little change it re- mained through life, were already impress- ed. Open — sincere — ingenuous, he was himself unconscious of dissimulation, and could hardly conceive deceit to exist in others. Full of vivacity in the society of his friends, he delighted them at once, by the originality of his observations, and by the native elegance of a delicate, though 1 This was the Abbate Matteo Valentinis, who is designated " Di chiara Memoria;" which eulogy, as an eminent philologist, he seems to have merited. LIFE OF CANOVA* 163 still untutored mind. Among strangers, from a natural timidity, which subsequent intercourse with mankind never entirely overcame, he was reserved, yet seldom failed to strike observers as possessing a mind of no ordinary stamp, or to fix those impressions, even on a casual interview, which common men never leave. On an important subject, the state of his intellectual powers during this period, va- rious authentic memorials still remain, ei- ther in the recollections of his friends, or in those confidential letters, which Canova, in a few instances, and on earnest solicita- tion afterwards wrote, when every circum- stance of his early life had been rendered interesting, by the well-earned fame of his maturer years \ His mind appears to have been endow r ed, or rather oppressed by feel- ings, which seemed to require a peculiar language for their expression ; — feelings which he could neither comprehend nor subdue ; which were constantly urging him 1 From one of these to a very dear friend, the pre- sent account is taken. L 2 164 LIFE OF CANOVA. forward to some imaginary goal of supe- riority, — to some undefined exertion, the origin or object of which he could not even to himself either develop or explain. " He often felt," to borrow his own simple but expressive words, " as if he could have started on foot with a velocity to outstrip the wind, but without knowing whither to direct his steps ; and when activity could no longer be supported, he would have de- sired to lie down and die." He would often gaze, said one of his early friends to the author, on the evening clouds, and on the mountains, from behind which their floating masses seemed to advance, as if he wished to mingle with their gilded forms, — to range unconfined the azure outline of the distant Alps, — or to penetrate the dim futu- rity beyond. At other times he would hur- ry to his drawings — or models — or last per- formance, examine the objects again and a- gain, then leave the place in seeming disap- pointment, and like one apparently in search of something which had not been found. What a striking portrait of a mind gift- LIFE OF ed with no common powers, yet ignorant how to wield its faculties, do these simple traits present ! — of a mind superior to its own situation, restrained by its means of information, and dissatisfied with its own exertions. In those high-toned desires, — those nobly ambitious aspirations after some dimly-descried eminence — some un- defined excellence, we trace the workings of a vigorous imagination, already more expanded than the taste and judgment des- tined to correct, or the powers of mecha- nical performance which realize its crea- tions. In the incipient unfoldings of the judgment, on the other hand, and in the commencing improvement of taste, we dis- cover the origin of that dissatisfaction with the results of his own labours, forming to the youthful artist so fruitful a source of inquietude. This inequality between the powers of conceiving, of executing and of judging, will be found to continue in a certain degree through life, and to consti- tute the discriminating qualities in the ge- nius of different individuals, not only in 166 LIFE OF CANOVA. the higher departments of art, but also in the nobler walks of literature. Frequent- ly, indeed, these powers seem to inter- change energies, as respects the ultimate supremacy of judgment over the early pre- cocity of imagination ; a change which may account for that discrepancy so often found to exist between the maturer, and more youthful performances of the same intel- lect. In proportion as these faculties of judging and of creating, which may be call- ed essential, as necessary to constitute exalt- ed genius in all its spheres of operation, are mutually subservient, — and as they are hap- pily united with those talents which, de- pendent on rules, and confined to peculiar modes of expression, may be termed me- chanical — the efforts of the individual will attain those approximations to a standard of ideal perfection, that form in his art compa- rative excellence. Notwithstanding the discordance, as respects these attainments, now exhibited in Canova's mind, and which apparently throws him behind many, who, in his own profession, and at his present LIFE OF CANOVA. 167 age, have shewn great forwardness in par- ticular merits ; yet in the acquisition of this mental harmony, in which superiority really consists, — this agreement of the un- derstanding and the imagination, which unites grandeur of effect with truth of de- tail, — which combines the fire of enthu- siasm with the correctness of nature, he has been preceded by few. In those ardent sensibilities, however, we discover merely the indetermined work- ings of a powerful and aspiring mind. We perceive nothing that tends to individuali- ty of pursuit ; we observe no indications of a certain natural disposition, fitting for one sphere of action only, and irresistibly attracting towards some peculiar mode of exertion ; we trace nothing, in fine, which in Canova marked the future artist, rather than the poet, — far less which shewed the sculp- tor rather than the painter. In truth, the idea commonly entertained of genius, that it is a mental volition paramount in its in- fluence to circumstances, and specific in its tendency, independent of culture, appears 168 LIFE OF CANOVA. to be an opinion not less erroneous, though more generous, than the opposing suppo- sition of primary equality in mental en- dowments, and of subsequent superiority being the result of education, — a notion which every day's experience disproves. The truth in this, as in most other similar instances, seems " to touch the two extre- mities x ." Without doubt, nature does not bestow her gifts on all minds with the same un- sparing liberality. If, in this respect, how- ever, there be disparity, neither has she implanted in some favoured breasts cer- tain transcendant qualities, which convey an almost intuitive science, and form as it were by a happy necessity, for particular employments, studies, and pursuits. There is recognised a constitutional and a high superiority in the general mental vigour and activity of those who are justly styled men of genius : But an original pre-emi- nence in particular talents, or a predisposi- 1 Burke's Speeches. tion for'certain modes of their exertion, in- dependent of external aid or of foreign bias, is denied. The supremacy of education, on the other hand, or, to use Lord Bacon's definition, " of the circumstances in which, during early life, the individual has been placed '," is asserted, in predisposing for, and in leading to that particular eminence, by moulding this general aptitude to a spe- cific purpose — to a definite end. Hence those who are termed men of universal ge- nius, have rarely attained an elevation a- bove mediocrity in any one pursuit. Na- ture, indeed, has performed her part ; but education has neglected to bend this ge- neral disposition for excelling, with full and undivided force, to a precise object. Genius, therefore, is here considered as merely another expression for the energies of a highly and equably gifted intellect, exerted in a determinate manner, to which education, in its extended sense, has not only trained, but has from the first direct- 1 See his Essays. 170 LIFE OF CANOVA. ed them. Genius is to the mind what sensibility is to the heart : both dispose to receive the noblest impressions ; but as im- plying simply a state or condition, neither exerts any power in selection. Without an object, the former lacerates the bosom by restless wishes and disquieting desires; while the hopes and aspirings of the latter are indeed always elevated, but vague and distracting, till, by external means, the cur- rent of enthusiasm be turned into some certain channel, — which alone can give to the most accomplished mind decision and character, or crown its efforts with ultimate success. The same superiority of mental endow- ments — the same exalted perceptions — those longings after, and often purposed enterprise of something noble and excel- lent, that announce the youth of genius, — and which in retirement, amid books, na- ture, and the fine arts, produce the philo- sopher, the poet, or the artist, would, un- der opposite circumstances, blaze forth in LIFE OF CANOVA. 171 the legislator, the hero, or the statesman '; The sceptre of genius still continues the same rod of universal empire, although to nerve the arm which bears it, education must confine its mighty influence to sepa- rate provinces. Whether, grasped by science, it trace the viewless orbits of re- volving worlds ; or, in the hand of art, it marshal the fair creations of magic hues and lovely forms ; or, with poesy, com- mand the tears of sympathy, and the bursts of passion, — still it is wielded by minds si- milarly constituted ; and they are but the varied efforts of the same powers, which thus alternately subject to its sway both nature and the human soul. Thus the ca- pacious faculties which, in Michael Ange- lo, embraced and adorned every region in the world of art, were intrinsically the same with those, that, under other circum- stances, and by a different application, in 1 Music alone seems to be the only attainment which is denied to well-directed industry, and to be depen- dent on original mental and physical qualities, which are not to be acquired ; but even here, application may perform much. 172 LIFE OF CANOVA. Galileo ', and in Newton, explored the mys- terious laws which, from planets to their atoms, regulate the universe. Thus, had not a more sacred volume inspired the pencil of RafFael *, — Italy also might have gloried in her Iliad ; and had the Paradise not existed, — Milton might have been the Canova of his age. The principal events that marked the early progress of the last named of these illustrious characters, viewed in connection with the state of mind which gave rise to the preceding observations, still farther il- lustrate the import of the latter. From in- fancy Canova had exhibited that general mental activity, which it is maintained con- stitutes the only original distinction be- tween individual intellects ; and which, by succeeding culture, is not only matured in- to ability, — but converted into inclination 1 Galileo made very rapid progress in painting be- fore he abandoned the fine arts for the study of philo- sophy. * Alluding to the subjects of his most celebrated works being taken from sacred writ. LIFE OF CANOVA. 173 for particular studies. The circumstances, also, in which from the dawn of reason he found himself placed, and the whole course of his early education, tended not merely to give, but to enforce a bias for his pecu- liar profession. During the first twelve years of life, indeed, it may be said, that while with his grandfather, amusement as much as instruction was pursued ; and cer- tainly those boyish exertions, with their resulting acquirements, could, of them- selves, little avail the attainment of future eminence. But one of the most valuable ends of education — the formation of tastes and of habits, was thus accomplished at an age when these can most readily be im- planted, and when nothing else of equal importance, can be effectually inculcated or perfectly comprehended. The surest foundation of future superiority was thus laid, in transforming the inclination to imi- tate which children usually display, into habits of decided industry, and in creating a love for the art, which in after life direct- 174 LIFE OF CANOVA. ed to this one object the undivided ener- gy of his powerful mind. Under Toretto, the advances of Canova, especially during his fourteenth year, were, in many respects, considerable. Notwith- standing the kindness of his master, how- ever, a very great proportion of time must of necessity have been devoted to occupa- tions, of slight tendency to promote ad- vancement in the nobler walks of art. His age, — the views in the first instance propo- sed of his merely attaining superior skill and dexterity in the subordinate parts, join- ed to the slender experience antecedently acquired, occasioned his being employed much more frequently in the capacity of a mechanical assistant, than in the more ele- vated pursuits requisite to the student of a liberal art. The studies more immediately tending to form the artist, were thus con- fined chiefly to hours of necessary relaxa- tion from manual labour. In the mean- time, his powers were unfolding themselves more rapidly, accompanied with higher LIFE OF CANOVA. 175 ideas of excellence, than his previous know- ledge or present situation yielded the means either of exercising or of gratifying. In the consequent state of impatience and anxiety, implied by his words and feelings, application was unceasing, from that " en- thusiastic desire to excel," so justly re- garded by Reynolds as " the first thing re- quired to excel I ." This desire of excel- lence, however, was indefinite, and there- fore obviously independent of any original attachment to a particular mode in its at- tainment. This enthusiasm was nothing more than the same generous ambition, which fires every superior mind ; and so far from indicating the influence of any na- tural inclination or exclusive capacity for sculpture, that it excited only undecided hopes and wishes beyond the prospect of success in the art. In such cases, when the mind is irresolute whether to continue or to abandon its efforts, former habitudes 1 See " Discourse XIV., on the Character of Gains- borough," &c. 1 76 LIFE OF CANOVA. of thought or of action finally prevail ; and the acquired habits and tastes of early edu- cation assume the semblance and produce the effects of what is termed genius, or na- tural disposition. After these paroxysms of fruitless despondency, or of causeless exul- tation, Canova returned to his drawings — to his models, — found them imperfect, — still they afforded the only exercise in which the ebullitions of emotion could be calmed ; and both education and circumstances had rendered superiority in art the sole means of attaining that eminence which he courted. The engagements which hitherto had detained him at Pagnano being now finish- ed, Toretto, after an absence of nearly three years, determined on re-establishing his residence in Venice. Here he died a few months after his return, worn out rather by infirmities than by age. This, in some measure, may be regarded as an unfortunate event for his youthful pupil, who, there is reason to believe, would therwise have found a future settlement in the capital, less a matter of obligation, LIFE OF CANOVA, 177 if not of difficulty. At least, he would have enjoyed the advantage of prosecuting his studies on the same principles as they had been commenced ; in which respect a change was by no means desirable, as in the then state of Venetian art, notwith- standing the deficiencies of his master, it could not have been for the better. To- retto had always expressed to his patron great commendation of Antonio's talents and docility ; and latterly, had frequently urged the necessity of' better instruction than could now be obtained in the obscure place of his nativity. As the best proof of his own esteem, he had previously decla- red him his son by adoption, with permis- sion to bear the name ; a privilege which was never assumed, and farther than as a pleasing mark of approbation, productive of no subsequent advantage '. Canova, 1 There is something extremely agreeable in this filiation of pupils, — a practice which appears to have originated among the Greeks ; so that in many instan- ces it is doubtful whether sons or scholars are meant by the words employed. M 178 LIFE OF CANOVA. however, through life continued to respect the memory, and even seems to have ad- mired the talents of this his early and in- dulgent master. Of this affectionate remembrance, an in- stance occurred a short time before the la- mented death of this truly great artist. Be- ing at Asolo, on a visit to the friend of his youth the younger son of his first patron, a walk one morning was proposed through the grounds of the villa Falier where they then were. On coming to one of those statues, which, more than half a century be- fore, had been executed by his old master Toretto, he expressed an earnest desire to examine them all, one by one. In the ob- servation of each he passed some time, ap- parently with great delight ; and in com- mendation had always something pleasing to remark to the friends by whom he was accompanied. Arriving at the last, he con- cluded by saying, " Eppure han del merito! — Veda, veda come hanno una certa grazietta che le rende interessantL" — " Indeed, in- deed, they all possess merit : observe, — see LIFE OF CANOVA. 179 how every one has a certain gracefulness, that renders it interesting." " But," adds the relator of the anecdote, " ma chi vha che abbia mai intern it Canova dir male di che che sia r ?" A bold question, doubtless, yet one which might be demanded with per- fect confidence, and without fear of pro- voking a reply, injurious either to the ac- knowledged candour, or the universal be- nevolence of that amiable man. It would appear, that in patronising the early studies of Canova, the original inten- tion of Falier was not to extend this assis- tance beyond what might simply qualify him for continuing, under superior advan- tages, the business of his grandfather. With this design, he had been recommended to the care of Toretto, in the hope, that du- ring the temporary residence of the latter in these parts, the youth might become, — not an accomplished artist, but an expert workman. On the return of the master to Venice, therefore, the aspiring pupil found 1 But who is there that ever heard Canova speak ill of any one whomsoever ? Falier. M 2 180 LIFE OF CANOVA. himself, after an absence of nearly two years, once more on the point of being e- stablished in the workshop of Pasino, — a second time, and to all appearance for ever, condemned to irksome toil, and to the ob- scurity of his native village. It has been observed, in application to a different subject, " that it is the first step only which is painful I ." How truly may it also be said of indigent merit, while it is the first advance in life which is decisive ; but alas ! the most important is precisely that which is the most difficult ! This once ef- fected — talents and perseverance, directed by virtue, must ultimately succeed, and will either find — or make their future path. But to a generous independence of soul the reflection is wounding, — how frequent- ly this first impulse must be derived from others. How slight are sometimes the o- perating causes either for or against ; yet to acquire the slender means necessary to second the former, or to counteract the lat- 1 " C'est le premier pas qui coute," &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 181 ter, Genius, too often, must be dependent on foreign aid. How nearly were the en- dowments of Canova consigned to inacti- vity and oblivion, from the want of that as- sistance, which the most ignorant noble in the Venetian state could have afforded, without even feeling its amount ! At this period, those to whom alone he was known, had removed for a time from Asolo ; his old master, who at least would have em- ployed him, was dead ; and had the elder Falier adhered to his first resolution, Anto- nio, at his present age, destitute of friends, with slender knowledge, and great diffi- dence of natural disposition, would hardly have essayed an effort, and, in all proba- bility, would not have achieved a successful attempt to leave the solitudes of Possagno. The observation of one of his own friends, on a similar though latter occurrence in his life, is perhaps, therefore, but top true, that " the want of a patron at a moment so decisive, would have deprived the world of a happy revolution in the arts '." 1 Cicognara. 182 LIFE OF CANOVA. Let it not, however, repress the exer- tions of genius, or lessen that freedom and independence of sentiment, which form characteristics so noble in superior minds, — that the early progress and first exercise of talents are often surrounded by difficul- ties. These surmounted with honour, like the mists which may obscure the morning sun, serve but to increase succeeding splen- dour. If the means of removing those ob- structions have in greater profusion been conferred on others — in the possession of mental eminence a distinction more ele- vated has been obtained ; and that patron- age which thousands may equally extend, can be rendered effective by few indeed. The transport, then, with which Canova prepared in consequence of an invitation from his benevolent patron, to repair to Venice, may easily be imagined, though it can be really felt — only by him who, like our young artist, " In life's low vale remote has pined alone," agonized by the consciousness of talents, LIFE OF CANOVA. 183 without an opportunity of exerting them, and by the prospect of distant but not hopeless distinction, which penury alone forbade him to attain. His own affection for the youth had no doubt strongly in- clined the senator Falier to adopt a reso- lution, apparently at variance with his first intentions in this respect. Antonio like- wise possessed a zealous advocate in the elder son of that nobleman ; with whom, from disparity of age, he had not indeed formed that intimate and familiar friend- ship which united him to the younger ; but in all his studies the former had ever been warmly interested, and by his supe- rior influence with the father, was on the present occasion, of the most essential ser- vice '• The general testimony of Toretto, 1 This was Giambatista Falier, to whom is dedi- cated the print of the beautiful statue of " John the Baptist in infancy," published at Rome in 1817, and en- graved by Consorti. But this was not the only mark of grateful respect paid by Canova to this early friend. " Non ho lettera," says the younger Falier, " del Ca- nova ove non ricordi anche per il mio maggior fratel- lo, la sua gratitudine." " I have not a letter of Ca- 184 LIFE OF CANOVA. also, and the considerations he had more recently urged, subsequently to his return from Pagnano, encouraged these generous friends, by the assurance that the talents of the youthful artist merited, and would repay their patronage. nova's in which he does not mention his gratitude to my elder brother." A grateful sense of past favours was one of the many amiable traits of Canova's cha- racter. An obligation once conferred was never for- gotten. LIFE OF CANOVA. 185 CHAPTER IV. Arrival of Canova in Venice — Short space in which he enjoyed the advantages of instruction — His different masters ascertained — His diligence and excellent con- duct — Distribution of his time, and order of his stu- dies — First public work — Anecdotes of the statue of Eurydice, the first executed by him — Canova opens his first studio, as a master sculptor — State of the art in Venice — His genius characterised by a love of sim- plicity — Unwearied application — General studies — Exhibition of his Orpheus. — Anecdotes of the various works executed during his stay in Venice — Group of Dedalus and Icarus — Departure for Rome, &c. In Venice, whither he had thus been in- vited at fifteen years of age, the reception which Canova experienced from his patron, was most kind and hospitable. The Falier palace he was desired to consider as his home ; and every considerable expense of education or of maintenance, was to be sup- plied by the liberality of its generous owner. But the incipient effects of that disinterest- edness and love of independence, which 186 LIFE OF CANOVA. through life so strongly marked the charac- ter and actions of Canova, would not even at that early age, permit, since it might be avoided, this entire dependency on theboun- ty of others. He now considered himself, though far from adequately versed in the mechanical departments of his profession to pursue with every advantage its higher studies, — yet sufficiently so, to entitle his exertions to some recompense in labouring for another. Hence, with a view at once to improvement in the practice of his art ; and to supply, at least in part, from the resources of present attainment, the requi- sites of future and more advanced acquire- ment, he resolved to devote a portion of time to working for some eminent master. With this intention, immediately on his arrival, he engaged for a very slender con- sideration, to work during the latter half of each day, under Giuseppe Ferrari the nephew of his former master, and from that circumstance surnamed also Toretto '. 1 Or rather grand-nephew : Speaking of Toretto, Cicognara calls him, " Prozio degli attuali scultori LIFE OF CANOVA. 18? It has, indeed, been generally suppo- sed, that during his first residence in Ve- nice, Canova's education was in every re- spect eleemosynary, and his maintenance the gratuity of his patron's generosity. In opposing this opinion, it is not in- tended to depreciate the extent of those obligations which posterity will owe to the venerable senator, or to deny the im- portance of those favours which, even in the zenith of his renown, he on whom they had been conferred, was ever ready to ac- knowledge. In a moral point of view, however, instances of virtuous, though ple- beian independence, are not less valuable to society than examples of wealthy or aris- tocratic munificence ; and when truth war- rants the exposure, ought to be rendered equally conspicuous. This should espe- cially be the object of endeavour, when, as in the present instance, much has been said on the benefits of such assistance, and Ferrari." — Storia della Scultura, torn. iii. lib. vii. cap. ii. note. 188 LIFE OF CANOVA. on the influence of early patronage, and little ascribed to the youthful exertions or merits of the individual. Canova's earn- ings at this period must doubtless have been inconsiderable, but his wants were likewise few ; while this early reliance for support, though only in part, on his own powers, created confidence in their exer- cise, and cherished that self-esteem, with- out which nothing noble can be effected. " I laboured," says the artist himself, after- wards writing of this period in a private letter, " I laboured for a mere pittance, — but it was sufficient. It was the fruit of my own resolution ; and, as I then flatter- ed myself, the foretaste of more honourable rewards, — for I never thought of wealth." One of his intimate friends, likewise, in a work published during the lifetime of the sculptor, says, " After the death of old To- retto, he remained some space under the nephew of the latter, receiving a very small fee \" 1 " Tenuissima mercede." Cicognara, Storia dell. LIFE OF CANOVA. 189 It is evident, therefore, that young and inexperienced as Antonio then was, his own exertions did in part minister to his necessities, even on his first coming to Ve- nice ; and that Toretto, instead of recei- ving money for instructing him, paid a cer- tain recompense for his services ; — a cir- cumstance which still farther appears, from his having executed at least two pieces by commission, during the period of his con- nection with the latter. Under the direction of this his last mas- ter, Canova remained not quite a year. As the moiety only of his time was thus oc- cupied, the whole space, during which he continued to receive instructions from others, exclusive of that passed with his grandfather, scarcely exceeded two years. An education in what relates purely to the modes of mechanical operation, thus al- most entirely the result of self-instruction, which, without contracting any vicious me- thods or affected singularities, conducted Scult. in the note already quoted ; where, however, he evidently mistakes the surname of Toretto. 190 LIFE OF CANOVA. uniformly to superiority in this respect, is rare even in the sister art of painting, but especially so in his own profession. In the latter, those processes which require a master's aid, and which can really be trans- mitted from one man to another, being both more numerous as well as more te- dious, seem to require longer pupilage and more copious tuition. This deficiency of external assistance, in the following verses of an intimate friend, is more poetically, perhaps, than philosophically supplied : " While glows the yielding mass, beneath each stroke Effulgent rays still from the marble broke ; These were of genius the eternal fires, Which mingling with the form, the stone respires, And to the fair creation seems t'impart The breathing contour, and the beating heart V In the different accounts of the early life and studies of Canova, which have hither- 1 " Fama e che nel trattar la docil pietra Raggiassero faville ad ogni colpo," &c. Missirini, " Sui marmi di Antonio Canova, versi," p. 135. Venetian edit of 300 copies, 4ut without fire or imagination ; — for by such names they dignified their own aberra- tions from truth and nature. He could thus prosecute, in the seclusion which he loved, those methods of discipline which judg- ment instructed, or taste disposed him to prefer. In his studio was constantly to be found something from nature, which might con- duce to a knowledge of form or of expres- sion. It was his frequent exercise to draw, or more generally to model, for several suc- cessive days, from the living subject. In thus diligently imitating, he never allowed his imagination, in the slightest manner, to deviate from nature, as presented to his view, on these occasions. To such faithful accuracy had he accustomed himself in this respect, that his earlier works were assert- ed to have been wrought from casts taken from the living model. Without entering at present into the in- quiry, how far mere imitation of nature is the legitimate object of art, — it will hardly be controverted, that correctness in this 222 LIFE OF CANOVA. instance must form, at least, the best pre- paration for arriving at higher excellence. At the same time it must be acknow- ledged, that Canova, as his works suffi- ciently evince, long possessed no more en- larged ideas of beauty than such as na- ture actually exhibits to the observer. The quality which principally characterised his early genius, was an extreme love of sim- plicity. Such a disposition of mind was quickly disgusted by the affected produc- tions of living art, and by the models on which they were immediately formed. A taste capable of justly appreciating the re- condite beauties of the antique, is itself the result of study and experience. This ar- dent love of simplicity, therefore, while it urged him to resort to that source, could be gratified by referring to nature alone. A long interval, however, elapsed before he displayed an acquaintance with those sub- lime principles of art, which in imitating nature produce creations, whose proximate archetypes have no real existence, yet LIFE OF CANOVA, 223 whose exalted excellence is deduced from nature herself. To Anatomy, our young sculptor dedi- cated at this time a large portion of at- tention, this science being regarded by him, what it ought by every artist to be considered, " the secret of the art." The perfection attained in his future labours, confirms the remark which has been made on the precept, — " the greatest of moderns are those who have shewn themselves best acquainted with it I ." Circumstances at first constrained him to remain satisfied with such knowledge of the subject, as books and public lectures, or the dissection of inferior animals could supply. Afterwards, which was continued even to a late period of life, it was his constant practice to study from the human subject, to dissect with his own hand, and to make studies, at least by sketching, and frequently by modelling from every important part, or well-defined 1 Both the precept and remark are from Lomazzo. 224 LIFE OF CANOVA. conformation in particular instances \ A very intimate friend, who was admitted at all hours, finding him one morning thus employed, could not forbear observing how strange it seemed, that operations often so revolting should principally conduce to the beauty of performances, which were distin- guished by the utmost grace and loveliness. " Hast thou never remarked," replied the artist, " that the noblest edifices must be commenced by removing dirt and rubbish — yet on the proper degree of care with which this disgusting operation is performed, de- pend the solidity, the symmetry, and even existence of the future fabric ?" Nor was it during the hours of solitary ap- plication only, that the study of nature occu- pied an observation ever awake to whatever might contribute to progress in art. It was Canova's custom at this time, accompanied generally by his youthful friend Falier, to indulge with moderation in the public a- 1 Cicognara mentions his assiduous study of ana- tomy ; — the anecdote is from a private source. LIFE OF CANOVA, 225 musements of the spectacles and theatres. In these scenes of enjoyment, however, the young artist never mingled as an idle spec- tator. His profession constantly engaged his thoughts ; and these places of resort formed, to his penetrating eye, " living schools" of nature, where she might be ob- served with every restraint removed, and where every passion is displayed without disguise. Whatever of interesting in ex- pression, or striking in attitude, occurred on these occasions, was pointed out to his companion, and retained as an unerring precept in guiding his future practice. These casual accessions to the results of re- gular study, were considered as most va- luable acquisitions in the knowledge of what he emphatically termed " // scolpir del cuore" — " the sculpture of the heart I ." Even in walking the streets, where that 1 " Le feste, gli spettacoli clamorosi i teatri, di chi approfitto semper con gran sobrieta, non erano per esso che la viva scuola, d'onde trarre i precetti piu interessanti." Falier. — Letters of Canova and of his Friends. 226 LIFE OF CANOVA. exercise can be enjoyed in Venice, these habits of observation were not intermitted. He would often stop before the workshop of some artisan, to remark the forceful yet easy positions into which the body was thrown in different occupations. On per- ceiving that he was observed by those who had been the objects of contemplation, he immediately retired, saying, " They will now endeavour to do their best, and con- sequently spoil all." So great was his love of simplicity. While traversing the long succession of spacious wharfs which line the beautiful and extensive basin, where the " rich argosies" once anchored, and which formed his favourite range, his progress was often arrested, in admiration of the well-formed trunk, or sinewy limbs of a porter in powerful exertion '. Where both 1 Many of these habits of study resemble those a- scribed to our Gainsborough, as described by Rey- nolds, Discourse XIV., with this difference, that the painter seems to have remarked only peculiarities, the sculptor those beauties which might elevate his con- ceptions of general nature. Some of the particulars LIFE OF CANOVA. 227 the climate and the manners of the lower classes permit of less solicitude in the ar- ticle of clothing than in more rigorous tem- peratures, such adventitious studies may be attended with considerable advantages. They may enable the artist to seize those fugitive effects of muscular action, which are so rarely to be perceived in the artificial movements and studied positions of aca- demical figures. Canova had likewise ac- quired that happy disposition of mind, by which every thing useful is instantly ap- preciated, and in its proper order referred to the leading pursuit. Appearances thus hastily caught, were retained with such pre- cision, that when the course of future study required, he could recall with certainty the acquisitions which chance had thrown in his way. On occasions where he deemed it of sufficient importance, he would pro- in the text are thus mentioned in florid language, but on the best authority : " Quante volte seco passeg- giande m'intrattenne a osservare, il bell' ignudo del facchino in violenza, la bella mossa del fabbro sulF ancudine scintillante !" Falier. p2 228 LIFE OF CANOVA. duce finished drawings, from having taken on the spot the slightest hints of subjects thus accidentally presented. He seemed to possess, in an eminent degree, both the re- quisites which have been deemed necessary to form the sculptor, — a quick and ener- getic apprehension of material beauty, — and a ready fidelity of hand in describing its contours '. At this period his application was un- remitting. It was his constant practice never to allow a single day to pass, in which some visible advances in his pro- fession had not been accomplished. Ra- 1 David (Emeric) Recherches sur l'Art Statuaire, Part iii. Sec. ii. § ii. p. 496. One might almost ima- gine, could this author have possibly been acquainted with the circumstances, that in describing the educa- tion proper to form a sculptor, he had the early life of Canova in his mind. The essay was crowned by the Institute in 1804-5, and is a work of eloquence and merit, but disingenuously favourable to French art and French artists ; — a circumstance which is thus gently hinted at in the Catalogo Ragionato on works of art : " L'autore non si lascia trasportare in favore delle arte Italiane. LIFE OF CANOVA. 229 phael's happy adaptation of Cicero's max- im, " Nulla dies sine lined" was in Canova literally exemplified. For many years he continued to observe as an established rule not to be deviated from, a resolution which he had previously formed, never to indulge in repose, till he had first in that day pro- duced some design -. Such is the unwea- ried industry from which eminence may be expected ; — such are the laborious ef- forts by which excellence is attained. " The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar," is not to be gained at a bound. Genius soars not on easy pinion ; and many who may gaze with malignant envy on its flight, would have shrunk from the patient toil, — the devoted self-denial, by which the glo- rious height has finally been reached. " Nil sine multo Vita, labore dedit mortalibus." It could not, however, escape a mind 1 Era sua pratica impreteribile di non coricarsi giammai se non avesse prima coronato quel giorno col suo disegno. Falier. — Lettere di Canova. 230 LIFE OF CANOVA. such as young Canova possessed, that to become an accomplished artist, more was required than merely skill in his own profession '• While thus closely engaged, therefore, in studies immediately and in- dispensably connected with his art, he was not regardless of that collateral knowledge which unites elegance with science, and to constitutional excellence adds correctness of subordinate embellishment. Although as puerile, properly banished, at least from English poetry % the splendid fictions of classic mythology are still appropriated by painting and sculpture. The latter, in particular, delights to embody its graceful 1 H lis sont rares les hommes privilegies, qui sans a- voir recu d'instruction, et s'addonant a une etude unique s'elevent d'un vol assure." It might have been added, that the studies connected with taste or sentiment in which such men could succeed are no less rare. — David, Part iii. Sect. ii. § 3. * Among the numerous obligations which literature owes to the critical abilities of Dr Johnson, is to be enumerated the severity with which he chastised " my- thological folly," wherever he found it in modern poe- try. LIFE OF CANOVA. 231 or majestic forms ; and even when the subject is from living nature, the accesso- ries are commonly drawn from antiquity. To archaiological pursuits, then, as being peculiarly useful to the sculptor, he de- voted a considerable share of attention '. With history, both ancient and modern, especially the former, he rendered himself sufficiently well acquainted, " so as," in his own words, " to store the mind with real imagery, and to exalt conceptions of cha- racter." In these various departments, it is not in- deed to be supposed that Canova's acquire- ments could at this time be profound. The endeavour at least evinces the ardour with which he employed every means that might render him more eminent in his art. At the same time we must admire his judg- ment in pursuing those which are best a- dapted to the attainment of that object. After his removal to Rome, the studies 1 In this department Canova's attainments were sub- sequently very great : at the time of his death he was president of the Accademia di Archeologia at Rome. On his election to that dignity, he pronounced a dis^ course replete with taste and erudition. 232 LIFE OF CANOVA. now only commenced, there received com- pletion. With few of the classic writers of Greece or Italy, through the medium of translations, was he finally unacquaint- ed ; and in the best writers on anti- quity, on taste, and on the philosophy of the arts, he was well versed. These pur- suits were always kept in judicious subor- dination to the ruling passion of his life — professional superiority. Unlike Mengs, or our own ingenious but unfortunate Barry, he never allowed the man of letters to interfere with the artist ; and superior in this respect even to the " learned Poussin," his correctness never degenera- ted into pedantry. To use the words of a friend, " He knew how to instruct himself in every kind of information connected with literature and the arts, at the very moment when his heart and hand were oc- cupied with such exquisite address, in gi- ving to marble life and movement '." At this period also, Canova was not in- 1 " Seppe erudirsi di ogni dottrina di lettre e d'arte — nelP atto stesso che il cuore e la mano si occu- pavano con tanta maestria in dar vita e palpito ai mar- mi. Falier. LIFE OF CANOVA. 233 attentive to those studies, which on a slight view seem to belong rather to the elegant scholar than to the able artist, but which a residence on the Continent renders emi- nently necessary, even to the latter. Of foreign languages he is said to have under- stood, and to have spoken, the Spanish and French. Of the former his knowledge may be questioned ; but of his perfect acquain- tance with the latter, no reasonable doubt can be entertained. Previous to the public exhibition of his Orpheus, and consequent- ly during the early part of his abode in Venice, he had obtained the friendship of some young Spaniards, who were on their travels, and frequently visited the artist in his studio at San Stefano. Conversing with these strangers, he is said to have acquired their language in a few days l . The know- ledge of a foreign tongue is not a matter of this easy attainment ; — the time is perhaps sufficient for acquiring the principles of a correct pronunciation, which future study 1 Falier uses the more dubious expression, brevissi- mi giorni, which may also be explained by the words in the text ; and it at all events implies a very brief space of time. 234 LIFE OF CANOVA. might have matured into practical correct- ness and facility. But as it does not ap- pear that he afterwards gave attention to the subject, to deny his perfect knowledge of Spanish, will derogate little from the merits of our artist. The French language he studied with assiduity ; and before his departure from Venice, spoke it with ele- gance and fluency. Such was the general plan of profession- al study, and such were the accomplish- ments, more or less intimately connected with it, which, during nearly seven years ', occupied the attention, and marked the in- dustry of Canova. Of this time three years had now elapsed, undistinguished by any production of art, since he had finished at Asolo the statue of Eurydice. As might be expected, therefore, increased know- ledge and experience are very evident in the completing of the group ; and the fi- gure of Orpheus is not only superior to its companion, but may be compared with any performance of the artist's noviciate. 1 From the autumn of 1773 to Dec. 1780. LIFE OF CANOVA. 235 Of the Orpheus the forms are light and elegant ; — the attitude is graceful yet ener- getic, representing him in act to rush for- ward, and snatch his partner once more from fate. But a sudden recollection seems to have arrested the unfinished movement. The left hand, with violent action, has dashed to earth that lyre now destined to become " the sole companion of his way." The right arm, raised in more subdued emotion, indicates, by its repressed action, the consciousness of despair, — that hu- man power is unavailing, and that all is lost. Rage and grief contend for mastery in the expression of the countenance, and are perhaps too strongly indicated, consis- tent with beauty or moral dignity. The whole figure, however, exhibits wonderful correctness, the utmost simplicity, and the closest imitation of nature. Though wrought in soft stone, the execution has been conducted with such skill, that on the first view it may easily be mistaken for a marble statue tinted by age. 236 LIFE OF CANOVA. It had long been a custom at Venice, on the annual festival of the Ascension, for artists to expose to public examination in the square of St Mark's, those performances which they had recently finished, or deem- ed proper for such an exhibition. Encou- raged by the applause, and induced by the persuasions of his friends, Canova so far overcame his natural diffidence, as to pre- sent here this statue of Orpheus. The oc- casion was doubtless a trying one ; — he had long panted for fame ;— this was the first effort to bring himself into public notice, and his feelings were proportionably agi- tated. He who has done most to deserve praise, will suffer the most from apprehen- sion lest it should not be obtained. In the present instance, these fears were vain. When the prejudices of perverted taste, or of false criticism cease to operate, the re- presentation of pure nature must ever please. Though so different from the style of art which then prevailed, the simplicity and truth, therefore, so conspicuous in this new production, called forth the approba- tion of every man of genuine feeling ; while LIFE OF CANOVA. 237 the obscurity of its author excited neither the strictures of pretended judges, nor the malevolence of envious rivals. The work was thus universally applauded ; and from the exhibition of his Orpheus in 1776 is to be dated, the commencement of the success and reputation of Canova. By a singular coincidence, such as we sometimes observe in life, a very popular opera bearing the same name, made its ap- pearance at this time, in which the charac- ter of Orpheus was supported by a highly ce- lebrated performer. It would now be diffi- cult to decide the respective claims of the rival arts to public favour on this occasion. The suffrages, indeed, seem to have been pretty equally divided between the sculp- tor and the musician, as appears from the following lively passage in a letter written at this time by a Venetian lady to a friend in Rome : — " You complained, during your short stay among us, that a long residence in Venice would be impossible, since one must be soon teased either to death or flight by a multitude of questions. You ought to 238 LIFE OF CANOVA. have exerted a small share of patience, in pity to us poor females, who, surrounded by the waves, cannot gad abroad like you fortunate inhabitants of terra Jirma, and consequently know nothing out of our own little world. However, were you here at present, your Roman indolence would be in no danger of disturbance from nume- rous inquiries ; — two questions would now make up the sum-total of our interrogato- ries ; — Have you heard Guadagni l ? — Do you know Canova tV — The latter inquiry, it is to be feared, could seldom be answer- ed in the affirmative. Few were acquaint- ed with the youth, who in the solitary clois- ter of San Stefano had silently and unno- ticed pursued those studies — of which the present statue was the first fruits. The group which has now been examin- ed is of itself sufficiently interesting, as the first important work of the artist ; and as 1 This was the name of the performer who played the part of Orpheus. The opera was the composition of Bertoni. LIFE OF CANOVA. 239 respects the second figure, more especially, the earliest day-spring of a purer taste, breaking on the long-obscured horizon of modern art. But the moral associations connected with this youthful production, as illustrative of its author's character, are perhaps still more pleasing. The applause bestowed on the Orpheus by his fellow-citizens, was ever remember- ed by Canova with the most lively grati- tude, " as that which made him a sculp- tor ■ ;" and seemed to be contemplated with even greater satisfaction than the more ex- tended renown of his later vears. This, it may be said, was only natural. The value of that which may be given or withheld, is commensurate with the necessities of the individual by whom it is solicited. Praise therefore is doubly grateful to him, whose claims to superiority are yet to be establish- ed, and who is still uncertain whether his efforts merit commendation. Judging, however, from Canova's disposition, as also 1 His own words. 240 LIFE OF CANOVA. from his frequent expressions on the sub- ject, the pleasure in this instance seemed to be derived chiefly from his reputation having been first acknowledged among his own immediate countrymen, and from his early fame being witnessed by those who were most dear to him. After an interval of many years, on reading the letter just quoted, he appeared most sensibly affected, exclaiming, as he finished the passage, " can amici ! grati tempi ! quindi sono divenuto scultore I ." In progressing to- wards the " summits of life," the view is indeed constantly extending ; and, to vul- gar ambition, intensity may be supplied by diffusion ; but by the benevolence of real genius is never forgotten that little circle which once bounded its hopes and wishes, and where it first found admirers and friends. Gratitude was a prominent virtue in Canova's character, — of which a striking instance connected with these statues, can- 1 " O dear friends ! O delightful times ! by these have I been rendered a sculptor." LIFE OF CANOVA, not be introduced with greater propriety than on the present occasion. Almost half a century after the first commencement of the group, and when maturity of fame such as few have attained, in minds of less feel- ing, would have obliterated such recollec- tions ; on being created Marquis of Ischia, he assumed as armorial ensigns the ser- pent and lyre, the mythological symbols of Orpheus and Eurydice. This was intend- ed as a mark of grateful attachment to his first patron, and exhibits in an amiable light his reminiscences of early life. But his sentiments are best explained in his own words ; and the manner in which the information is conveyed to us, is not less pleasing than the incident itself. In a letter, dated 23d July 1817, and addressed to his friend Sig. Giuseppe Falter, after endeavouring to excuse a long silence, he proceeds thus : — " But if I am negligent in writing, my heart is not so in its remem- brance of you, and of your most excellent family. Do you desire a proof of this ? Behold one. Know that in my armorial 242 LIFE OF CxVNOVA. bearings I have adopted the emblems of Orpheus and Eurydice, in memory of these my two first statues, ordered of me by your most estimable father ; from which two statues I ought to acknowledge the begin- ning of my own civil existence '." In minds, although otherwise highly en- dowed, whose principal motive to action is vanity, or whose powers are not sufficient- ly capacious to embrace, in its full extent, the object of pursuit, early praise generally operates in a pernicious manner, by relax- ing industry, and inducing a self complai- sancy with respect to present attainments, than which nothing can be more hostile to 1 " Ma se sono trascurato nello scrivere, non lo e pero il cuore mio nel ricordarsi di lei, e dell' eccellen- tissima sua famiglia. Ne vuole ella una prova ? Ec- cola. Sappia che nello stemma mio ho adoptato gli emblemi di Orfeo et di Euridice, in memoria delle due prime mie statue, ordinatemi dalF adorabile padre suo, dalle quali statue devo riconoscere il principio della mia esistenza civile.' ' Roma, 23d Juglio 1817. The original is in the possession of Sig. Emmanuele Cicogna, from whom a collection of Canova's Letters may be expected. This gentleman resides in Venice, and was an intimate friend of the artist. LIFE OF CANOVA. 243 future progress. In the biography of art- ists, such instances are not uncommon : But on the modest Canova, the universal encomiums thus bestowed on the first of his works submitted to public inspection, acted only as incentives to greater exer- tion ; an encouragement to persevere, with augmented confidence, in the mode of study which he proposed to follow, and in which his earliest efforts had thus been crowned with success. Being now regarded as a young artist of considerable merit, his pro- fessional employment became in propor- tion increased. Soon after the appearance of his Orpheus, he received from the Sena- tor Grimani an order for a copy of the same, but in dimensions smaller than those of the original. This was finished about a year after the former, and is of Carrara marble, being the first statue executed by Canova in that material. By some writers this second statue of Orpheus has been sup- posed to have laid the foundation of Cano- va's fame, as forming the subject of the ex- hibition already described. Many reasons, q2 i i 4 LIFE OF CANOVA. however, might be adduced for refusing credit to this statement : suffice it to state, that the best authorities agree in ascribing that honour to the first Orpheus, now in the villa Falier \ Canova's prospects thus improving, it became necessary to provide more suitable accommodation than his present workshop afforded. Taking leave, therefore, of the kind monks of San Stefano, he removed to a more commodious and better lighted stu- dio, in the street or lane which bears the 1 Tadini says, it was the second Orpheus which was exhibited. Vide " Le Sculture e le Pitture di Ant. Canova, publicate fino a quest anno 1795, dal. Co, Faustino Tadini." Venezia, 1796, 8vo. Paravia merely follows this writer. Federici " mem Trivi- giane," &c. mentions only one. Cicognara, Falier, and Canova's Letters corroborate the narrative in the text. English travellers are little to be depended on in any thing concerning Canova. Of these several state, that it was the group of Daedalus and Icarus, which gave name to Canova, — almost his very last pro- duction in Venice. The servant at the Pisani palace, who shews this group, retails the same story. Hence its origin. LIFE OF CANOVA, 245 name of " San Maurizio h" Here he con- tinued till his final departure from his na- tive country. The respect with which Milton's various abodes in London have been remembered % is not without parallel in the regard expressed for the houses which Canova has at different times inha- bited at Venice: these, though certainly not so numerous as the mansions of our poet, are viewed with no less veneration. The succeeding year gave birth to a pro- duction, the most considerable yet under- taken by the artist, in a statue of Escula- pius, in proportions larger than life. This work is also executed in marble, and was originally commissioned by the Marchioness Spinola at Genoa, who then resided with great splendour at Venice. From a change of circumstances, however, the lady was obliged to relinquish the contract, when the statue had now been finished. It will readily be believed, that such an occurrence 1 " Al traghitto di S. Marizio." — Paravia. " Al traghetto in S. Maurizio." — Falier. 2 See Johnson's Life of Milton. 246 LIFE OF CANOVA. was, at this period, a matter of very serious inconvenience to Canova, more especially as the performance remained long upon his hands, without finding a purchaser. At length it became the property of a Sig. Cromer, an advocate. At the villa of this gentleman's son the statue is still to be seen l . The subject, from its nature, admits of little variety, and is still farther circum- scribed by the established modes of anti- quity ; but the statue exhibits beauties al- together unknown in the corrupted style of cotemporary art. The sober and digni- fied air, so suitable to the character ; — the chaste simplicity of the drapery, in which nothing forced — nothing affected, appears, — and which clothes without concealing the figure, — possess intrinsic merit ; while they have the recommendation of novelty when compared with the productions of the same or preceding age. This statue, after being removed from the workshop, the artist is reported to 1 Between Venice and Padua. LIFE OF CANOVA. 247 have seen for the first time, not long pre- vious to the melancholy event which de- prived the world of his talents. The per- fection, both in taste and in mechanical skill, which it displays, is said to have greatly surprised him, and even seemed to occasion a degree of sorrow ; for he com- plained, that " during the succeeding half century, his progress had by no means cor- responded with the indications of excel- lence exhibited in this performance of his youth V Contemporaneous with the preceding work, is a group on the subject of Apollo and Daphne, in which the figures are of the natural size, and in pietra Vicentina, the soft stone already mentioned. From some cause not explained, the piece was never completed, the artist having proceed- ed little farther than merely to determine the forms. 1 Bernini, in like manner, on seeing some of his ear- ly works, exclaimed, " Oh quanto poco profitto ho io fatto nell' arte, mentre giovine, maneggiava il marmo in questo modo." Reynolds, too, in viewing the por- traits which he had painted in his youth, is well known to have expressed nearly similar feelings. 248 LIFE OF CANOVA. The order of time has now conducted the reader to the close of Canova's twenty- second year, which introduces the most important, as well as most celebrated un- dertaking of his noviciate — the group of Daedalus and Icarus, in marble of Carrara. The Senator, and Procurator Pisani *, for whom this was executed, a nobleman dis- tinguished by a love for the arts, lived in habits of intimacy with the patron of our artist who thus obtained the commission. The piece was originally intended for a niche in the centre pillar between the double entrance-doors of the palace, or ra- ther united palaces of Pisani and Barbarigo, which front the grand canal. This locali- ty on the water is said to have suggested the subject. But such was the excellence of the finished production, that its posses- sor, esteeming it too valuable for an exter- nal exposure, placed it with some chefs (Tceuvres of the sister art, in an inner sal- 1 Procurator of St Mark's, an office of considerable dignity iii the Venetian State. LIFE OF CANOVA. 249 lery ; while its destined site remains still unoccupied '. In this group the figures are of the natu- ral size, and naked, with the exception of a mantle, one corner of which is brought round the loins of Daedalus, while the rest falling behind in large masses, serves as a mutual support. They are preparing for their adventurous journey. The father is represented in act of adapting to the shoul- ders of his son the fatal pinions, which he vainly hoped would waft him safely from Cretan bondage. Icarus as if assisting, holds in his right hand part of the mate- rials ; but seems chiefly engaged in watch- ing the progress of the work, which he re- gards with all the careless unconcern of fearless youth. These different but con- nected actions, have thrown both into atti- tudes extremely natural and simple, yet admitting the fullest effects of contrast. Daedalus rests on the right lower extremi- ty ; and extending behind his son the right 1 Here is the celebrated " Family of Darius," by Paul Veronese, with other excellent works. 250 LIFE OF CANOVA. arm, in order to adjust the wing, which, with the left hand brought forward, he is affixing with cord, presents in front his broad and muscular frame. The body is bent gently forwards, but the head being turned towards his son, the aged counte- nance, deeply marked with anxious expres- sion, is seen in profile. Icarus, on the con- trary, inclined towards his father, a side view only of his slender and buoyant form is exposed. The head, indeed, being bent with a graceful inclination, and the looks directed to the right shoulder, the motion has turned the chest more in front, while it fully exhibits the sweet and placid coun- tenance. In the present group, the excellences and the defects of Canova's early manner are displayed in striking lights. The for- mer consist in simplicity of style, and in the most faithful imitation of nature, — beauties essential to perfection, and for the absence of which nothing can compensate, — while the latter are to be considered not so much absolute blemishes, as indications LIFE OF CANOVA. 251 of only relative proficiency in a mode of study, of which such deficiencies are, at a certain stage, the necessary consequences. This method, however, presented the sole means of rescuing the art from its then wretched condition, and of raising it to that state of purity and elegance by which it is now distinguished. The characteristic failing is a want of elevation ; — and the desire of preserving extreme simplicity in the grouping, in the forms, and in the attitudes, has pro- duced an effect approaching to poverty and constraint. These faults are more conspicuous in the figure and position of Daedalus, whose lower extremities, from the manner in which they are dis- posed, do not appear sufficiently deve- loped. Hence, perhaps, the eye is not in- stantaneously assured that uniformity of ac- tion is preserved. The form and position of the left arm and shoulder also are par- ticularly constrained and inelegant. The attitude of Icarus is easy ; and though in- ferior in firmness and decision of outline, 252 LIFE OF CANOVA. to that of his father, his figure is more pleasing, and excites greater interest in the spectator. When the two figures, however, are considered in relation to the general effect of the group, their disposition is a- greeable and judicious. The skilful man- ner in which the saliant and retiring curves of the adjacent contours are made to cor- respond, is particularly to be admired. This is accomplished without the least ap- pearance of art, by a slight elevation of the ground on which the more youthful figure is placed ; an arrangement seemingly re- quired by the operations in which they are engaged, and possessing the additional ad- vantage of agreeably dividing the disparity of stature in the father and son. So striking is the truth of representation, and so nearly does it approach to real na- ture, that when this group was afterwards exhibited in the residence of the Venetian ambassador at Rome, many who were themselves artists, suspected the original statues to have been copied from models executed by actual application of the soft LIFE OF CANOVA. 253 material to the living form. " It appeared impossible," says a writer speaking of this very work, " that the chisel could have so happily surprised those fugitive effects and movements, which for a long time had ceased to appear in the performances of modern sculpture, composed from memory, without any regard to the careful imitation of the natural V This fidelity, however, is not accompa- nied with selection, — nor ennobled by ima- gination. The forms, though exquisite ex- amples of mechanical science, are such as 1 Poiche non sembrava ad alcuno possible che lo scarpello con tanta felicita sorprendere potesse quei fu- gitivi effetti e andamenti della carna, che da longo tem- po non apparivano piu nelle opere della scultura mo- derna, fatte a memoria, senza prender di mira la dili- gente imitazione della natura. — Cicognara, Storia del. Scult. torn. iii. ed. folio. This most excellent writer, in reviewing the whole series of Canova's works, ventures to find fault in only two instances, and one of the er- rors the artist had himself acknowledged and subse- quently rectified. It is to be regretted, that he has thus brought with some his impartiality into question ; but let it be remembered, that he dwells only on the most perfect works of the artist. 254 LIFE OF CANOVA. common nature readily affords. In the fi- gure of Daedalus there is even a degree of vulgarity. The head in particular is ex- actly such as the living model may be sup- posed to have presented ; and its anima- ted prototype might easily have been found in the streets, or on the canals of Venice. If the form of Icarus appear superior, it is chiefly because youth is naturally more beautiful than age. There is here, like- wise, the same faithful imitation, but no attempt to elevate nature, or to refine cha- racter. In this performance, the approaches to the grand style of sculpture are consequent- ly remote. Its beauties are indeed impor- tant, because they are fundamental ; but so far from constituting excellences of the highest order, that in addressing the sensi- bility without elevating the imagination, they have omitted the nobler object of art. The same work, however, seldom affords so many subjects of interesting contempla- tion. In this we are presented with a prac- tical illustration of the studies pursued by LIFE OF CANOVA. 255 its author; — we observe the extent to which he carried these plans ; — and we trace the intermediate gradation from simple imita- tion, to the higher and more imaginative style of his later productions. According to the method which Canova has been de- scribed to have followed in the prosecu- tion of his art, we discover in the present composition, a strong and close imitation of living nature, with a sedulous rejection of all conventional or theoretic modes of rendering the subject. Not that he pro- ceeded without principles, or was one of those, who indiscreetly stray, " Where purblind practice only leads the way \" Just theory is indispensable to excellence in practice ; but to be just, it must follow, not precede an acquaintance with nature. 1 Part of Mason's imitation of the following lines of Du Fresnoy : Utque manus grandi nil nomine practica dignum Assequitur, primum arcana quam deficit artis Lumen, et in praeceps abitura ut caeca vagatur. De Arte Graphica, § 56. 256 LIFE OF CANOVA. Such was the opinion of Canova. He was not ignorant of the manner in which former masters had viewed nature ; but he main- tained, " that the first business of an artist is to imitate, not to create" — that he ought to commence with preparing by a rigid adhe- rence to reality, hereafter to establish a theory, — not to set out with ideal notions, to which future practice, and even observa- tion, in some measure, were to become conformable. In this respect, the order of his acquirements presents a singular devia- tion from the course commonly observed in the advances of individual talent, and re- sembles rather the progress of general im- provement. In the productions of his youth, we remark little of the fire, and none of the extravagances which have been suppo- sed to indicate a vigorous and fervid ima- gination. But in a line of study where he had no present example to guide, no in- struction to direct, to which every practice of living art was opposed ; though he seems not immediately to have perceived the real extent, and ultimate purpose of imitation, LIFE OF CANOVA. 257 exercises were ever conducted with judgment, and he had subsequently nothing to unlearn. His progress was thus conti- nuous, rising by regular gradations, from simple correctness, bordering on timidi- ty, to elevation and refinement. In the present composition this last change is not yet accomplished. Its state marks that critical period in the intellectual career, when talents of a secondary order are ma- tured ; — when, according as actual acquire- ment remains stationary, or is surpassed, fu- ture rank must be stamped with mediocri- ty, or raised into eminence. Here the artist touches the confines where the na- tural graduates into the ideal. Simple imi- tation can scarcely be carried further ; for the general proportions only indicate some- thing superior to individual nature. This is the boundary of inferior powers. Genius alone can advance beyond — can soar from the means, to the object of art ; — from the representation of particular models, to the delineation of perfect and universal sym- metry ; — can Trace beauty's beam to its eternal spring, And pure to man the fire celestial bring. R 258 LIFE OF CANOVA. The group of Daedalus and Icarus may be considered as the last work executed by Canova in Venice, at least the account of his labours in that city is thus, with the greatest propriety, brought to a close. A statue of the Marquis Poleni, indeed, on which he was employed at the same time, was finished some months later than the termination of the former. An examina- tion of this latter, however, as the nature of its subject, and the material of which it is composed, hardly allowed scope for the dis- play of superior skill, would add nothing to the previous knowledge of the artist's abilities '. If, then, the preceding obser- vations have appeared long, let it be re- membered, that the subject of them is not only the most important of his youth- ful performances, but is the only work cal- culated to give correct views of his powers and attainments, when early education was 1 This statue is rather larger than life, in pietra Vi- centina, and is to be seen in the Prato delta Valle, a public place in Padua, formerly a marsh, now orna- mented with statues. LIFE OF CANOVA. 259 completed, and at the eventful period of becoming a resident in that city, which has so long, and so justly been regarded as the capital of art. The merits and reputation of Canova were now generally recognised at Venice : But in his profession, this city neither pre- sented a field for the exercise of abilities, nor afforded the means of more extensive and refined acquirements. He therefore resolved to attempt an establishment at Rome. As affairs stood, however, this would have been a rash and hazardous en- terprise, without having first secured a prospect of something certain on which to depend. Under these circumstances, his friends resolved to petition the Venetian Senate for a pension, that he might thus be enabled to prosecute his studies without embarrassment, " and adorn by his merits the city of Venice \" In this matter, though his patrons did not despair of final success, considering the munificence of the body addressed, the 1 " E decorare col proprio merito la citta di Vene- zia," — the words of the original address. R 2 260 LIFE OF CANOVA. smallness of the sum demanded, and the deserts of the individual for whom it was solicited, considerable difficulty and delay were to be expected. It had not been the practice of the Senate to interfere in such cases ; and the prevalence of future applications, from once giving a precedent, was to be apprehended. The motion was thus likely to experience opposition. Ca- nova therefore determined to leave the af- fair in the hands of his supporters, and in the mean time, repairing to Rome, to trust to his talents and to fortune. His constant and best benefactor did not desert him on this occasion. It fortunate- ly happened that the Cavalier e Zuliani, who then represented the republic at the Papal Court, was the intimate friend of the sena- tor Falier. To this nobleman, therefore, our artist was recommended in the warm- est terms '. 1 The Cavaliere Gerolamo Zuliani was elected Am- bassador to the Holy See in November 1777, not in 1780, when, as has been erroneously reported, Canova accompanied him to Rome. LIFE OF CANOVA. 261 Soon after his twenty-third birth day, then, our artist for the first time beheld the shores of the Adriatic disappear, as he di- rected his course to the more classic banks of the Tiber. Here a new sera commences, not only in the history of the life, but in the style of art which Canova subsequently adopted ; or rather, as will appear, a refinement in that line of study, which, from the com- mencement of his independent career, he had constantly pursued. The works executed, up to the present period, with the order of time in which they were finished, according to a list in his own handwriting, are as follow : 1772. Two baskets with fruits and flowers, in marble, for the Farsetti Palace ; and still there. 1773. Statue of Eurydice, in soft stone of Costosa. 1776. Statue of Orpheus in the same material. These two form one group, and are in the villa Fa- lier at Asolo. Both natural size. 1777. Bust of the Doge Renier, now in the possession of Sig. Angelo Querini, of Venice. 262 LIFE OF CANOVA. 1777. Copy of the Orpheus, in Carrara marble. Ve- nice, Palazzo Grimani. 1778. Statue of Esculapius, in marble, larger than nature. Villa Monseliana, Venetian State. Apollo and Daphne, in soft stone, natural size, unfinished. Venice. 1779. Group of Daedalus and Icarus, in marble of Carrara. Pisani Palace, Venice. 1780. Statue of the Marquis Poleni, in soft stone of Vicenza, larger than life. Padua. LIFE OF CANOVA. 263 CHAPTER V. State of the arts during the latter half of the eighteenth century — Causes chiefly contributing to the revival of a purer style of sculpture — Condition of the art on the arrival of Canova in Rome — Enumeration of his cotemporaries in that city — Foreign artists — Flaxman — Reception of Canova by the Venetian Ambassador — Anecdotes of the exhibition of the Daedalus and Icarus — Canova undertakes a group on the subject of Theseus and the Minotaur — Ge- nerosity of the Venetian Senate — First exhibition of the Theseus — Anecdotes — Description of the group — Remarks — New prospects of professional success — Journey to Venice — Return to Rome, and final establishment in that city. In the introductory chapters, the history of sculpture was brought down to the mid- dle of the eighteenth century. It will now be necessary briefly to review its progress in Italy during the period which we have traced in the life of Canova ; and especial- ly to ascertain the condition of art, and the state of taste, when he fixed his resi- 264 LIFE OF CANOVA. dence in the Roman capital. The diffi- culties which were to be surmounted, and the antagonists with whom he had to con- tend, on this his more direct and public entry on the grand theatre of action, will be thus readily appreciated, and the merits of his future labours more clearly discern- ible. In the fifteenth century, the fine arts, which till then had flourished, rather from their connection with those of utility, than from any abstract knowledge of the beauti- ful and the elegant, assumed additional im- portance as national causes ; and while they were .thus cultivated with the ardour of increasing interest, they were improved by the vigorous efforts of fresh and un- shackled intellect. In the sixteenth, politi- cal causes, more remotely connected with real patriotism, and an ostentatious desire of splendour, not a love of pure refinement, operated in the promotion of all the arts. Sculpture, indeed, was practised with every success in point of magnificence, which power, riches, and talents will assuredly LIFE OF CANOVA. 265 command ; but purity and simplicity of design disappeared in proportion as gran- deur and novelty were pursued. Genius hovered on the very confines of incredibi- lity ; — its creations derived their elements solely from an imagination lofty — awful — and imposing. But the sympathies of human feeling were overwhelmed, not heightened, by these visionary forms of gloomy sublimity and power. While every deviation from nature and from simplici- ty was exaggerated in the sculpture of the seventeenth century, the grandeur of pre- ceding art was lost in the prettinesses of affectation, and nobleness and strength, in forced attitude and unideal expression. The chisel was injudiciously exercised in emulation of the pencil, exhibiting in its productions the jarring combination of energetic execution, employed on manner- ed and feeble conceptions. As we ad- vance, degradation, poverty, and destitu- tion of originality increase, till, finally, at the commencement of the eighteenth cen- tury, pedantic learning — a poetry of con- 266 LIFE OF CANOVA. ceit — and useless metaphysics, constitute almost the only signs of intellectual vitality. From 1748 to 1796, Italy enjoyed near- ly fifty years of profound repose. But du- ring this season of security and peace, no improvement was accomplished, and little encouragement given in the fine arts. In sculpture, not a single monument, re- markable even for magnitude, far less ex- cellent in design, was attempted, till the sepulchral erections in Rome by the sub- ject of these memoirs, announced the pre- sence of a happier epoch. Circumstances, indeed, occurred during this interval highly favourable to the future restora- tion of art ; but the labours of genius can- not be forced ; and perhaps there never was, and never can be a reformation in art, effected by direct imitation in the first in- stance, even of the most perfect models. Some Mind of transcendant powers arises, who, by patient and well-directed training, gradually recovers the pristine elegance and purity which had disappeared. Pre- vious events, however, may predispose the LIFE OF CANOVA. 267 general taste to receive and to appreciate this renewed beauty. Such events there were ushering in, like the dawn, the glories of the coming day, when Canova appeared to hail its approach, and to realize its anti- cipations. Researches into antiquity, in relation to the arts, began to be prosecuted with ar- dour, both by artists and men of letters, and under advantages peculiar to this age. The excavations of the buried cities at Naples were daily disclosing remains of classic elegance, less imperfect from the ra- vages of time, and extending to a greater variety of form, than those hitherto known in existence. These were carefully collect- ed, commented upon, and published ; while similar exertions were thus roused in the Roman states, and in Tuscany, where, though no such mines of fresh riches could be boasted, yet much might be done by the illustration of those ancient treasures which they had long possessed. These pursuits had the most direct refe- 268 LIFE OF CANOVA. rence to sculpture ; and though their in- fluence did not reach the leading princi- ples or master lines of art, they at least in- troduced elegance and correctness in the accessories ; but what was of vital impor- tance, they recalled the attention to the more simple style, and unaffected graces of antiquity, which had long disappeared in the ostentation and pretence of modern invention \ 1 Charles III. of Naples extended a munificent pa- tronage to the excavations and Museum at Portici, principally at instigation of his minister the Marquis Tanucci, the Colbert of Naples. Yet there was some- thing extremely illiberal in printing only a few copies of the Drawings and Transactions of the Academy, which were reserved for royal presents. This Acade- my, established expressly for the collecting and illus- trating the antiquities in the Museum at Portici, con- sisted originally of the following individuals : — Maz- zocchi, Zarillo, Carcani, Galliani, il Baron Ronca, Niccolo Ignara, Camillo Padani, Pianara, Castelli, Aula, Monti, Giordano, Bajardi, Valetta, Pratillo, Cercuto, il P. della Torre, and il P. Tangi. The ex- clusive method observed by the court in the publica- tion of the antiquities, was supplied by the industry and liberality of private individuals ; among whom may LIFE OF CANOVA. 269 Among the principal causes of the de- cline of taste, and of the arts, during the seventeenth, and more particularly in the eighteenth century, is to be enumerated a system of criticism, which vitiated the pu- blic mind with false ideas of excellence, while it misled the judgment of the artist be mentioned Card. Querini, the Marquis Maffei, Rossi, the two Venuti, and our minister Sir William Hamilton. At Rome, Cardinal Albani cherished si- milar studies, and in his elegant villa emulated the re- treats of her most refined Patricians of ancient days. Here he converted antiquarians into men of taste, and artists into antiquarians. He was the patron, and almost the instructor of Winkleman — of Mengs — of Tantoni — of Raffei — of Baldani, &c. To him also that precious collection, the Museum of the Capitol, owes its exist- ence, begun by Clement XII. In Tuscany, Leopold, amid his schemes of general improvement, was too sa- gacious to overlook the arts ; but the country of Mi- chael Angelo afforded then no sculptor capable of im- proving the opportunities thus afforded by princely munificence, and Leopold could only prepare the way by the institution of academies, and by splendid publi- cations of the antiquities in the Florentine museums and galleries. 270 LIFE OF CANOVA. by erroneous principles. This originated in France in the latter part of the reign of Lewis XIV. and, continuing progres- sively to augment, it extended its influence at an early period to Italy. The diffusion of more correct opinions, and of sounder canons of criticism, must therefore be con- sidered as no unimportant auxiliary in the succeeding reformation. The writings of Algarotti — Mengs — Hamilton — Milizia, combining practical experience with the re- sults of ingenious observation, were at this time in the hands of every one, and very generally disseminated better notions, high- ly favourable to the introduction of the purer, more simple, but less ostentatious style of Canova's first productions. In short, during the last twenty-five years of the eighteenth century, a general move- ment of intellect, like the incipient hea- vings of a long becalmed ocean, was to be observed ; but time elapsed before any mo- tion animated the deep stagnation in which the fine arts languished. Advances were LIFE OF CANOVA. 27 rapidly made in philosophy — in literature — in works of utility ; — sculpture still re- mained debased and neglected. We have seen that the early studies of Canova were conducted solely by his own ideas of ex- cellence, and directed by his own concep- tions of the methods by which it was to be attained. When he removed from his na- tive Venice, no impression had yet been made there : she even lay beyond the cir- cle of improvement ; and he left her with- out artists, and without academies, such as were established in several cities of Italy. For several years subsequently to his arrival in Rome, the same languor continued to prevail ; and his own labours were the first to dispel the corruptions of taste, and to excite the tardiness of patronage '. The propitious state of things, as now detailed, 1 Storia della Scultura, torn. iii. ; Memorie per le Belle Arte, in Italia a Roma ; Manuscript Correspon- dence of the Count S. Giovanni and the Abbate Mili- zia, in the Library of Vicenza ; Giornale Arcadico, &c. &c. 272 LIFE OF CANOVA. did not, therefore, aid in the slightest de- gree to form the genius or the style of this artist : it merely contributed to the fa- vourable reception, and finally to the just appreciation of his works. The age was prepared in some measure to hail a reform- er, but seemed incapable by its own ener- gies of producing one. Canova at this crisis appeared, than whom, perhaps, no il- lustrious name ever owed less to external circumstances, in the cultivation of talents, or whose reputation is less dependant on splendid opportunities, not created by him- self, of exerting them. At the epoch of his arrival in Rome, paint- ing was in a more fallen condition than it had been even some time before; as will suf- ficiently appear from the manner in which the resolution to ornament St Peter's with the master-pieces of modern art was accom- plished. Subleyras executed his picture, when he was already reduced to the great- est weakness. Peter Bianchi, a promising artist, was surprised by death, and left an LIFE OF CANOVA. 273 unfinished sketch. Manchini, an excel- lent disciple of Cignani, was called upon to work in his decrepitude, and with trem- bling hand performed what little he could, but very unequal to his former efforts. Placedo Costanzi produced a picture which can hardly be termed middling. Pom- peo Battoni managed his subject better than the others ; but from some cause the picture was not copied in Mosaic, ac- cording to intention with which all were executed. When at length a truly splen- did production might justly have been ex- pected from the science of Mengs, — he also was snatched away by death, the last and chief of a school, which had shed a tempo- rary lustre on the labours of the pencil *• Nor was the condition of the sister art at this time more flourishing. The Roman, then, as now, the only school of sculp- ture in Italv, was reduced to a few art- ists, whose almost sole employment consist- ed in making restorations of antiques for foreigners, or for the Museum of the Vati- 1 See Memorie per le Belle Arti. Roma 1786. S 274 LIFE OF CANOVA. can. Of these, many still remain to show the wretched state of the art. If an entire work was attempted, it was merely a copy of some ancient statue ; and if by chance an artist aspired to an original composition, it exhibited a performance, made up of plagiarisms from ancients and moderns, united with the unmeaning expression, ex- travagant action, and mannered execution of existing taste. Of these sculptors, the rivals of Canova on his first coming to Rome, and of whom, many were long his cofemporaries, the most celebrated are the following : Agostino Penna, a native of Rome, had lately executed a statue of Pius VI., still in the sacristy of the Vatican, which, not de- parting in the least from the accustomed observances of his predecessors ', presents a mechanical figure, without nobleness of expression, or even ordinary selection in the arrangement of the drapery. His sta- 1 Bernini sculptured the statues of his Popes, with a corner of the paludamentum, or upper garment, folded over the knee. This practice his successors religiously followed, as if it had formed part of the ritual. LIFE OF CANOVA. 275 tues of two Angels in the church of San Carlo, sul corso, are still less original, the only passable parts being exactly copied from almost similar figures in the Jesuits' church, by Rusconi. Le Brun, a Frenchman, but long resident in Rome, was esteemed a great artist in portraits, being particularly happy in the likenesses of his busts. His statue of Ju- dith in the church of San Carlo, however, shews him to have been incapable of origi- nal works '. Pacilli carried the affectation of this school to the height of extravagance, as may be observed in his statue of David, in the same church of San Carlo, of which the air and attitude more resemble those of an opera dancer, than of" Israel's royal bard." Pacetti (Vicenza) had produced a few unimportant works, but was then best known as a restorer of antiques, in which capacity he displayed considerable skill; 1 This artist was the first who attempted a bust of Pius VI. s2 276 LIFE OF CANOVA. as also Cavacippi, who in this department was the most famous artist in Italy. Bracci and Sibilla, sculptors of the tomb of Benedict XIV. in St Peter's, a monu- ment which discovers the lamentable state of the art at this period. Thomasso Righi exhibited a certain man- nered execution of petty fancies, which cap- tivated common observers, as having some- thing of novelty and prettiness. He was a great favourite with pretended artists, and would-be connoisseurs. Angelini (Giuseppe) was one of the most celebrated sculptors at this time in Italy. One of his best works, the statue of Pira- nese the engraver, had been finished a few months previous to our artist's arrival, and procured for its author great reputation '• Angelini certainly never produced a better figure than this ; but the design, and even much of the detail, is copied from an an- tique of the philosopher Zeno. Ceracchi, a Roman youth, promised at 1 It is now in a cellar of the Palazzo Braschi. " Sic transit" LIFE OF CANOVA. 277 this time to become great ; but afterwards engaging in politics, he neglected his stu- dies, and was slain in a foreign land, far from the peaceful arts, and the security of his profession. Of foreign artists, who made only a tem- porary stay at Rome for the purposes of study, several Germans had acquired repu- tation. Bench and Jusson, English stu- dents, were likewise distinguished from the crowd. Sergiel, the Swede, had lately finished a Diomede, and a group of Love and Psyche, which procured his election into the French Academy. The merits of these and of other names, however, could confer few claims to lasting renown ; and their works left every thing to be accom- plished, while they presented nothing to be feared, by the distinguished restorer of succeeding art. Of all those, who were at this time co- temporaries of Canova in Italy, and conse- quently in Europe, no one could thus parti- cipate in the glory of that propitious revolu- tion, which, before the close of the century, 278 LIFE OF CANOVA. his works had effected. The name of Flax- man alone will divide with his, the ap- plauses of posterity. Flaxman had already displayed a judicious and fearless disregard of the conventional modes by which art was then enslaved, being distinguished at Rome for devotion to the study of the antique, and for that deep feeling of its simplicity and severer beauties, which have since cha- racterised his productions. Equal to, per- haps, in some respects, surpassing Canova in fertility of invention, and in strength of original conception ; he falls beneath him in facility of execution, in beauty and grace of expression, and in exquisite delicacy of finish. Had the English artist remained in Italy, he certainly would have proved a ri- val to be feared, and would have shared with the Venetian, the glory of reforming modern sculpture '. 1 The Italian artists and cognoscenti are ever ready to acknowledge the merits of Flaxman, but complain that his works are not sufficiently known on the Con- tinent. He is thus honourably mentioned by the Count Cicognara : " Si Flaxman avesse avuto pari al- LIFE OF CANOVA, 279 Such was the state of the art, and such the genius of the principal sculptors, by whom it was exercised, when Canova ar- rived in Rome, on the 28th of December 1780 '. From the former, it will sufficient- ly appear, that the general activity, and spirit of improvement, which had already begun to distinguish the age, had not yet imparted its excitement to sculpture ; while the latter equally shews that its professors were little calculated, either to create op- la facolta dell' inventare, e del comporre, il merito di modellare e dello scolpire, avrebbe certamente una gran parte nella gloria di una prospera revoluzione di quest' arte ; null' ostante gli debbe moltissimo, poi che quanto di lui si cognosce servi grandamente a svegliare da una certa letargia monotona, e far resurgere il gusto dello stile aureo, e severodelP antichita, ch'egli seppe applic^re alle sue invenzioni." Storia della Scultura, torn. iii. This praise is afterwards modified, by stating that the severity is perhaps exaggerated, and therefore apt to lead into the false, " in modo stesso che le poesie di Ossian, potrebbero esser guida periculosa a chi le prendesse a modello, quantunque ottimi originali." — Ibid. The Poems of Ossian, through Cisarotti's trans- lation, are well known, and much admired in Italy. 1 Letters of Canova. Letter to Falier, dated Rome, 30th December 1780. 280 LIFE OF CANOVA. portunities, or to turn to advantage the circumstances of the times. In consequence of the very honourable and pressing introductions with which Ca- nova had been furnished by his friends and patrons at Venice, he was received by the Cavaliere Zuliani in the most gracious and hospitable manner. In the Venetian Pa- lace, the splendid abode provided by the Republic for her ambassadors at the Papal Court, he was entertained as an inmate and a guest ; — in its present possessor, find- ing at once a patron and a friend. The accounts, then, which have hitherto ap- peared, in various works, of the distress which assailed the young and unprotected artist, on his first arrival in the Roman capital; — of the neglect with which he was treated by the Venetian Minister ; — of the repulses he experienced from other noble- men, to whom application was made ; and of his being at length discovered and re- lieved by Sir William Hamilton, — arc without foundation '• 1 For these accounts, see various periodical works, both foreign and domestic, and the writings of English LIFE OF CANOVA. 281 Zuliani was one of the last enlightened, and generous protectors of the arts, among the old nobility of Venice. Without hav- ing acquired much technical knowledge of the subject, or profoundly investigating the principles of theoretic beauty, he pos- sessed an excellent natural taste, strength- ened by familiar intercourse with the most esteemed artists of the time. To these advantages, were united a rare modesty of disposition, and distrust of his own judg- ment, which rendered him anxious, on all occasions of importance, to obtain the opinions of the most distinguished judges, before fixing his final determination on any subject connected with the fine arts '. The love cherished by this nobleman for these pursuits, and the applauses bestowed and other travellers. The statements in the text are supported by Canova's own letters, by the evidence of Falier, who says that his friend was received by the Ambassador, and entertained in his Palace, " con la piu cortese ospitalita ;" and also by different other means of private and correct information. 1 Aveva pero la rara qualita di una modestia infini- ta, riportandosi sempre all' opinione degli artisti, e dei veri intelligent!, &c. — Cicog. To him, the Mu~ 282 LIFE OF CANOVA. on the early labours of Canova, which pro- claimed the merits of the young sculptor, doubtless contributed greatly to strengthen the recommendations which had been pre- sented in his favour. At the same time, not acting the patron from mere ostenta- tion, or with little regard to merit in the object, the Ambassador was solicitous of judging for himself, while his disposition rendered him no less desirous of knowing the sentiments which would be entertained at Rome, on the productions of his protege. Having discharged the immediate du- ties of hospitality, and such as it is said he had partly promised to the youth him- self, previously to his own election as representative of the Republic ; Zuliani's next care, therefore, was to cause the model of Daedalus and Icarus to be trans- mitted from Venice '. As soon as this composition had arrived in Rome, the seum of Antiquity, belonging to the library of St Mark's, is indebted for some beautiful specimens of Greek sculpture, — the colossal foot, — heads of two Fauns, male and female, &c. 1 In a work which the author has read, Canova is LIFE OF CANOVA. 283 most celebrated artists and connoisseurs were invited to meet in the Venetian Pa- lace, in order to examine a new work of art. Among the number were Volpato the engraver, Battoni the painter, Cadef the sculptor ', Gavin Hamilton the painter, whose work, " Schola Italicce Pictures" was then much read and admired ; the Abbate Puccini, so justly celebrated for his know- ledge and taste; with many others who usually attended the learned and elegant assemblies, which were frequently conve- ned in the splendid saloons of the Envoy. The trepidation with which Canova ac- companied these distinguished individuals to the apartment, where stood his last per- formance, — that on which his present, and now in some measure his future fame de- pended, may easily be imagined. " Be- fore we proceed to the examination of the described as carrying this model on his own shoulders from one nobleman's house to another ! 1 So this word is written by Italians, and in pri- vate communications to the Author : the more correct orthography is Shadow, pronounced Shadof. 284 LIFE OF CANOVA. work," said the Ambassador, addressing his friends, " permit me, Gentlemen, to in- troduce the artist," presenting Antonio at the same time, who till then had only been noticed as a guest. Placed around the group, each surveying it with the strictest scrutiny, — a deep silence prevailed among the different members of the company. What trying moments were these to the feelings of its author ! No one could ven- ture directly to condemn, where correct- ness of expression, and fidelity in the imi- tation of nature were so conspicuous ; yet each was averse to hazard the first opinion on a style, so different from that of exist- ing art; the simple beauties of which, as compared with the affected and ostenta- tious manner then prevailing, seemed to border on poverty of effect, and timidity of hand ; — every one appeared anxious ra- ther to learn the sentiments of the others, than to express his own. At length Ha- milton advanced, and cordially embracing the trembling artist, congratulated him on the specimen of talent then exhibited, and LIFE OF CANOVA. ^85 on the methods of study which it was thence evident he had pursued ; advising him strenuously to prosecute the same course of constantly referring to nature, but re- commending in addition, an assiduous and careful attention to the sculpture of anti- quity -, The subsequent applauses of all present fully justified the praises thus be- stowed. It was on this occasion, as already mentioned, that even artists were deceived by the exquisite imitation of nature in the model, imagining it to have been original- ly taken from the living form. The merits of the youthful artist being thus fully acknowledged, and the previous estimate of his talents confirmed, the Am- bassador suffered no time to elapse before his promises of patronage were proved to have been sincere. It had long been the ardent wish of Canova, to be enabled to 1 " Hamilton (Gavin) embracciandolo, parlo in vero linquaggio dell' arte, gli diede il sano consilio, di associare alia diligente espressione della natura l'uti- lissimo studio dell antichita." Cicognara, Storia della Scultura, torn. iii. note sub Jin. 286 LIFE OF CANOVA. undertake a group on some heroic sub- ject ; — a desire which had acquired addi- tional fervour from the view of those glo- rious remains of ancient art, which he now first beheld in Rome. The contemplation of these monuments awakened in his mind a noble emulation — a soul-stirring impulse to attempt a work worthy of the place which they adorned. In the sublime yet simple beauties of these productions, also, he discovered in what he had hitherto been deficient — a style of art, commanding all the sympathies of the heart, while it clothes the loftiest conceptions of imaginative ex- cellence, — where •" are expressed All that ideal beauty ever blessed The mind with, in its most unearthly mood, When each conception was a heavenly guest, — A ray of immortality I ." How heavily fall the evils of poverty, where they weigh down the energies of ge- nius — clog the spirit of virtuous enterprise, and check the elevated aims of intellectual 1 Byron. LIFE OF CANOVA. 287 ambition ! These generous aspirations had till now been chilled by the consideration of his own narrow fortunes. Without the hope of obtaining a commission for a de- sign such as he meditated ', he could not afford the means of purchasing even the rude block from whence the future work was to be formed. At length, disclosing these views to his present patron, they were seconded in the most effectual and disinterested manner. The subject was left entirely to the choice of the artist ; the material was to be ordered by the Am- bassador ; and when finished, if no other purchaser appeared, the group was to be- long to him, on the payment of its full va- lue. The subject selected by Canova on this important occasion, was Theseus vanquish- ing the Minotaur ; and the figures were to be of the heroic size, that is, larger than life. In less than three months from the 1 " A magnificent monument — a group — a statue larger than life, was no longer thought of." Memorie per le Belle Arte, &c. 288 LIFE OF CANOVA. date of his arrival in Rome, the compo- sition of the models was already begun, and a mass of statuary marble, which had cost 300 crowns, (about ^.63 Sterling), ar- rived soon after. At sight of this, which crowned his long-cherished hopes, the breast of the young enthusiast seems to have been filled with delight ; and eager to communicate his joys with the friends whom he had left behind in Venice, he writes in terms of high commendation, al- ternately praising the Ambassador, and de* scribing the beauty of the marble '• On the work which now occupied his principal attention, Can ova laboured with assiduous but concealed industry. He wrought during this period in an apart- ment of the Venetian Palace, to which no one was permitted to have access, the Am- bassador alone being acquainted with the secret of his studies ; and the group was 1 One letter to Falier is dated from Rome, in the Palace of the Venetian Ambassador, 30th March 1781. Almost all of Canova's letters are very short; but he constantly writes with great naivete and simplicity. LIFE OF CANOVA. 289 seen for the first time on the day when it was publicly exhibited. The motives in this conduct doubtless were various ; — the diffi- dence of his own disposition ; — the desire of perfecting himself in the knowledge of the antique, a study in some measure new, without having his methods remarked, or his progress scrutinized by others ; — a wish to make, in the first instance, the proper impression both on his friends and on the public '. It could not escape his penetra- tion, also, that the spirit of his productions, being directly opposed to the style and manner of cotemporary artists, he would consequently be exposed thus later, to the attacks of their hatred or their jealousy. But from whatever views it originated, this method continued strictly to be observed until the piece was finished. Steadiness and resolution in every thing connected with study, from the earliest period of his 1 Sir Joshua Reynolds advises young artists not to permit their half-finished performances to be seen even by their friends, not only as it has a tendency to weak- en the impressions which would otherwise be made by these, but also to relax their own industry. Discourses. 290 LIFE OF CANOVA. professional career, eminently distinguish- ed the character whose development is now traced. Rome seemed to inspire Canova with fresh ardour and increasing industry : to use the expression of a candid though friendly eulogist, " the departing day left him busily engaged, and the returning light found him again employed." Per- ceiving his deficiency in the conception of ideal beauty, he pursued with unre- mitting assiduity the means now pre- sented, both of acquiring and of exer- cising this knowledge. The study of the ancient statues, in the different magnifi- cent collections and museums of the capi- tal, formed the constant occupation of a portion of each day ; the remainder being dedicated to the labours of his secluded studio ; where, not neglecting his long- cherished devotion to nature, the artist, in his present work, endeavoured to embody the lessons of elevated truth and exalted beauty thus impressed on his delighted mind. So ardently, indeed, were these LIFE OF CANOVA, 291 pursuits cultivated, and so entirely did pro- fessional advancement engross his care, that, as stated by an intimate friend, he might frequently be found at dawn, with his sketch-book or modelling apparatus, seated before the statues in the court of the Capitol, or the colossal figures ascribed to Phidias and Praxiteles on Monte CavaU lo \ During this period, also, his evenings were no less profitably passed in the so- ciety of men of letters and of taste, to whom a residence in the palace of the Am- bassador naturally introduced the person who enjoyed that advantage. While he himself was thus diligent to improve the opportunities of his present situation, the friends of our artist at Venice had not been remiss in their endeavours to interest the Senate on his behalf. Their former applications for a small, pension were not a little strengthened by the fa- 1 Of the latter, even at a subsequent period of life, he made a constant morning study for years, in rela- tion to his own improvement, and to establish the style of Phidias in the Elgin marbles. T 2 292 LIFE OF CANOVA. vourable reception which his works had ex- perienced at Rome, and were now aided by the representations of their own Ambassa- dor. At length, about a year from his de- parture, after many delays, and considerable difficulties, arising rather from the novelty of the request than from any doubts of its propriety, a decree was obtained, dated 22d December 1781, (i by which the Senate granted to Canova the annual pension of 300 ducats, limited to the term of three years, that he might in Rome perfect him- self in his profession, and reflect honour on the Republic '." During the period of which we now speak, the Theseus was not the only work on which Canova was employed. A sta- tue of Apollo, about half the natural size, originally commissioned by the Senator 1 The original document has been consulted ; but being merely expressed in the technical forms of busi- ness, its insertion would be useless. The text ex- presses, nearly in the words of the grant, the only in- teresting details which it contains. This pension, at that time of such importance to Canova, did not much exceed £.60 Sterling per annum. LIFE OF CANOVA. 293 Rezzonico, and which afterwards passed into the possession of Marshal Daru, was finished at the same time, but conducted with less mystery than the more important production, forming rather an exercise than a labour, and serving as an ostensible oc- cupation. In this performance, the god is represented in act of placing on his head a crown of laurel, as if just victorious in some musical or poetic contest ; but though very beautiful, a work of this nature would scarcely have merited notice, did it not mark the first of Canova's triumphs in his earliest rivalry with cotemporaries at Rome. It so happened that this piece was finished about the same time, and exposed to pub- lic inspection along with the Minerva Pa- cified, a statue of nearly similar dimen- sions, and one of the best works of Ange- lini, who has already been described as one of the first sculptors then in Italy. Not- withstanding this formidable competition, which, without striking excellences in the composition, must have altogether thrown into shade the work of a youth unknown 294 LIFE OF CANOVA. and unpatronized, the Apollo obtained ge- neral and very high applause. Comparisons were even made, little favourable to the Minerva. These circumstances could not fail of proving agreeable to the artist and to his friends. In his early letters, the former mentions them with great complacency, but with his usual and characteristic modesty '. The group which had so long formed the subject of secret solicitude and un- witnessed labour, was now finished. On this occasion, in order to give full effect to the surprise and eclat of its first exhibi- tion, an entertainment was given by the Venetian Ambassador to the most celebra- ted artists, men of letters, and other distin- guished characters then in Rome. No pre- vious intimation of a work thus carefully concealed had yet transpired ; — a model of 1 Letters of Canova to Falier, dated from Rome 29th December 1781, and 2d March 1782; the ori- ginals of which are now in possession of the Abbate Cicogna. Copies were consulted by the Author. The statue was finished in February 1782. Falier — Ci- cognara — Paravia — Autographical List of Canova' s Works — Private Correspondence of the Author. LIFE OF CANOVA. 295 the head of his victorious hero, purposely prepared by the artist, and placed in the apartments destined for the reception of the guests, was the first announcement of the new production. This beautiful and novel object, in such an assembly natural- ly attracted universal attention ; and the whole company by degrees had collected around it Various were the opinions on its forms — its expression — its subject ; and keen were the disputes to which it gave rise. All were agreed that the cast must have been taken from a work of Grecian sculpture, and of great merit ; but they were divided on what it represented, and where the original was to be found. Some affirmed that they had seen it in such a collection ; — some said it was in a different gallery ; — part maintained that such a per- sonage of antiquity was pourtrayed; — others asserted a contrary statement ; — in short, the acknowledged beauty of the piece was the only common sentiment which ex- perienced no opposition. Seizing the pro- per occasion, when he perceived every one 296 LIFE OF CANOVA. to be thus deeply interested in the affair, " Ebbene" said the Ambassador, " andia- mo a vederne V originate ;" — " Come, let us terminate these disputes by going to see the original '." All were astonished. What ! the antique, about which so many conjectures had just been made, in the pos- session of their host ! It seemed hardly cre- dible ; and they eagerly followed to where Canova's Theseus, victorious over his cruel foe, in all the brightness of recent finish, and placed to the best advantage, was dis- closed to view. The effects produced by this unexpected sight, it is impossible to describe. Every feeling was absorbed in surprise, delight, and admiration. The work was universally pronounced to be one 1 " L'Ambasciatore voile tal giorno tutt' i primarj artisti al suo pranzo, e tenne esposto quel gesso (della testa di Teseo), molte furono le opinioni di que pro- fessor], sulla nobilita, sulle forme, sulla espressione di quella testa," &c. Falier — Letters of Canova — Pri- vate Correspondence of the Author, &c. The exhi- bition of the Daedalus and Icarus, as formerly descri- bed, seems, in some accounts, to be confounded with this of the Theseus. LIFE OF CANOVA, 297 lie most perfect which Rome had beheld for ages ; and artists, who afterwards pur- sued the sculptor with the envious malice of inferiority, were now silent, or hurried away by the unrestrained enthusiasm of the moment. To the end of life, (in fine della memo- rial says one of his friends, Canova re- tained a fearful recollection of his feelings at this time ; and w r as often heard to say, that death itself could not be more terrible than the mental sufferings which he en- dured while the earlier of these occurrences were passing. When such are the trembling sensibilities of genius, how great may be the evils inflicted by unthinking or injudicious criticism ! They may extinguish for ever the flame of genuine inspiration, — lacerate the bosom which glows with the noblest and the best of sentiments, — or dash with irremediable sorrow a life which might have diffused knowledge and happiness \ Let him, then, who presumes to sit in judgment on the productions of talent— 1 Recall the fate of Kirke White, and of the Au- thor of Endymion. 298 LIFE OF CANOVA. be careful that the opinions which he deli- vers be matured by reflection, and dictated by truth : — he has arrogated to himself an awful responsibility, under which the im- becile and the corrupt must sink in dis- grace or infamy. Nor, while Canova was thus sensitively alive to glory and reputation, was he less awake to the claims of friendship and the ties of gratitude. " Genius and art — ambition's boasted wings, Our boast but ill deserve : — a feeble aid, Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high V No sooner was the triumph of his exer- tions thus assured at Rome, than casts of his work, with the most grateful and affec- tionate letters, were transmitted to his friends in Venice. Every accession of fame — every addition of prosperity — seem- ed more strongly to revive that attachment which bound him to the patrons of his youth, to whose early kindness he delight- ed to ascribe his future greatness. " Non" exclaims one of these friends, " non doveva ' Young. LIFE OF CANOVA. 299 io, per quanto io potessi, aggiunger lustro alle glorie sue f ma delle sue virtu che diro poi t" — " Ought I not, by my weak endeavours, to increase, if possible, the splendour of his glory ? but of his virtues how shall I speak x ?" The work thus first establishing in Rome the fame of the sculptor, represents the victorious Theseus seated on the life- less body of the monster, reposing after a conflict, which the exhaustion visibly per- vading his whole frame proves to have been terrible. In the Minotaur, the artist has a- dopted that description of the ancient poets which best suits the purposes of art ; and the form is human, with the head only of the animal whence the appellation is deri- ved. In its gigantic limbs, carelessly thrown over a fragment of rock, the nerveless abandonment of death is well expressed ; but it constitutes an accessory rather than 1 The model which was thus sent to Falier, that nobleman presented to the Venetian Academy. This institution was then very ill managed, and the model perished. Falier. 300 LIFE OF CANOVA. a principal object, and the eye is with pro- priety arrested chiefly by the figure of Theseus. This marks a distinguished era in the studies and in the progress of Canova. Hitherto his style had been remarkable for beautiful simplicity and purity of natu- ral expression : with these are now com- bined more elevated conceptions of gran- deur and of truth ; — forms nobler and more perfect ; — a character more intellectual ; — with less obvious dependence on mere imi- tation. We behold the artist, already mas- ter of every merely mechanical excellence and practical acquirement, now aspiring to higher attainments, and boldly commit- ting himself to the suggestions of a refined and lofty imagination. The moral expres- sion in the Theseus is noble and exalted, indicative of those generous feelings which arise from the consciousness of having achieved an honourable and useful enter- prise. The forms are strictly antique, more especially in the contours of the head and torso : in the limbs there is perhaps less of refinement, with a greater resem- LIFE OF CANOVA- 301 blance to individual nature. The counte- nance, also, and the general cast of the fi- gure, approach nearer to the robust mould of an Athleta, as exhibited in classic sculpture, than seems consistent with the more elegant and graceful proportions of heroic beauty '. The attitude is well cal- culated to give full development to the fine and vigorous form ; — yet is there not a degree of indelicacy in being seated on the body of a slaughtered enemy, still warm with the lingering remains of life ? But whatever slight defects by the eye of fastidious criticism may be discovered in this work, they are quickly overlooked] in that unbounded admiration which it ex- cites, as compared with the existing re- sources of sculpture, and with coeval per- 1 In this respect, it is curious to remark the striking difference in the same subject as treated by the same hand in 1782 and 1819. In the Theseus combating with the Centaur, the improvement is very great, as regards the union of elegance with strength. Both these works are at Vienna. The present one was pur- chased soon after its first exhibition by the Count de Fries. 302 LIFE OF CANOVA. formances in this department of art. In an age when the grand productions and pure principles of the ancient masters were no longer appreciated or understood; — when an original composition of the time is now never mentioned, or instanced only as an example of degraded taste - ; — in an age, too, when no extrinsic advantages of munificent patronage or of great underta- kings served to create talent ; — a youth un- known in Rome, — self-taught in every no- ble precept, and better feeling of the art, — in solitude and in silence, — unaided and alone, produced a work worthy of the best periods and happiest prosperity of sculp- ture. What wonder, then, if, by the dis- cerning few, the Theseus was regarded with rapturous enthusiasm ! — If it was hail- ed as the first effulgence of future glory, which, emanating from the same source, was destined to irradiate every province of the art. In tracing the whole course of its 1 " Non e opera di quei ultimi tempi la quale avesse fatto parlare di se in quella generazione." Cicognara — Memorie per le Belle Arti — Visconti, &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 303 history, a triumph of genius more complete does not occur, — a triumph rendered still more perfect, when this is considered as merely the prelude to exertions more a- stonishing, and to labours more excellent. This work marks the termination of Ca- nova's noviciate. We now behold him possessed of all the acquirements, and dis- playing those powers which constitute the great artist; opportunities of exercising these were alone wanting, a deficiency which in some measure was soon supplied. If great occasions naturally produce great men ; superior minds mould to their own lofty purposes the common advantages which may be presented, and, from slight causes, often elicit splendid effects. A simple monument, raised by private grati- tude to the memory of a deceased bene- factor, — a design which, if committed to the most skilful of his cotemporaries, would have been productive of nothing now worthy of regard ; — became in the hands of Canova the first means of resto- 304 LIFE OF CANOVA. ring taste, and one of the noblest works of modern sculpture. To Volpato, who has rendered his own merits so conspicuous while he aided the introduction of a purer taste, by his engra- vings from the immortal labours of Raf- faelle in the Vatican, Canova had been introduced, in like manner as to other art- ists frequenting the assemblies of his pa- tron, the Ambassador '. But for the inti- macy which followed, and which subse- quently ripened into the most cordial friendship, he was indebted to the good offices of Scotch Hamilton, {Hamilton il ScottOf) as this painter was generally desig- nated. Through the representations of the latter, also, soon after the exhibition of 1 On their first appearance, the engravings of Vol- pato from the works of Raffaelle were eagerly purcha- sed, and tended not a little to diffuse just ideas both among artists and patrons, and their value has conti- nued to increase. They were executed from drawings, by the Spanish painter La Vega, who laboured con- stantly at this employment for the space of three years. These drawings are still preserved in the Vatican Mu- seum, and fill 80 sheets. LIFE OF CANOVA. 305 the Theseus, a work which certainly pro- ved what Hamilton asserted, that its author was the only sculptor in Rome, capable of conducting with propriety such an under- taking. Canova was accordingly selected by Volpato to erect a monument in honour of Clement XIV., the suppressor of the Jesuits, the collector of the Clementine Museum, and the author of those elegant letters, by which his family name, Ganga- nelli, has been rendered famous over Eu- rope '. A deep and conscientious feeling of the obligations, under which he deemed him- self to be placed, in regard to the pension bestowed by the Venetian Senate, deterred Canova from immediately accepting this 1 The early and continued interest which Gavin Ha- milton took in the welfare of Canova, together with the similarity of the name, may have given rise to the re- port, that Sir William Hamilton was his first patron, when all others had refused him assistance. The re- lation in the text is borne out, by Cicognara, Falier, Paravia, Tadini, &c. Canova's own letters, and by pri- vate letters to the author. The Cenotaph erected to the memory of Gavin Hamilton by Canova, is another proof of the grateful regard of the latter. U 306 LIFE OF CANOVA. offer, however consonant with his inclina- tions, or favourable to his prospects. More than that period must elapse, before the work in question could be completed ; while for the next three years, he considered his time and his occupations under the control of those by whom the means of remaining at Rome had in some measure been sup- plied. He resolved therefore to repair to Venice, and there to explain in person to the friends of his youth, by whom they might be laid before the Senate, his wishes and his views. Behold him then once more in that capital, uncertain as to his future destiny, now trembling on the eve of decision, by one of those events, which, though in after life it may fill the mind with amazement that their consequences could ever have been of importance, fre- quently determine the fate of the indivi- dual. Should the Senate refuse to put the most liberal construction on the terms up- on which the pension originally had been granted, he was in no condition, without such assistance, to engage in the career now opened to his exertions. But the gene- LIFE OF CANOVA. 307 rosity of his patrons left their interesting protege, whose noble character and valu- able talents they could now appreciate, at full liberty in every respect to dispose of his time, and to direct his application as might appear most conducive to future im- provement > Canova had hitherto regarded a perma- nent establishment in Rome as a consum- mation, rather ardently to be desired, than confidently to be anticipated, and had con- sequently looked to Venice as his eventual home. On this account he had still re- tained possession of his studio near San Maurizio : this also was now resigned, and he bade farewel to a city always beloved as the first protector of his youth, and as the 1 Ma non v'ha interesse ne onore che possano mao chiare la purita del Canova. Si domandano alia grand* opera piii anni di assiduo lavore, ne si crede autoriz- zato ad accoglierla, se non ne sia prima disimpegna- to dal fissato triennio cui Pobligava la ricevuta pen- sione. — Quindi vediamo ad un tempo il Canova in Venezia indeciso sul suo destino ; ma vediamo tutti i suoi mecenati impegnarsi per una condescendenza, che la paterna dolcezza del Veneto Senato non sa conten- dere. Falier, &c. Letters. u 2 308 LIFE OF CANOVA. country of early friends, but to which, ex- cept on a few casual visits, he never after- wards returned. About the same time, al- so, the Ambassador Zuliani was recalled from his diplomatic situation at the Court of the Holy See, having been elected by the Senate Plenipotentiary to the Ottoman Porte \ The hospitality of the Venetian Palace thus no longer awaited his accep- tance, even had our artist on his return been inclined to avail him self of its advan- tages ; but it was now time to present his talents in a more decided light to the pub- lic. At this period, therefore, in the Stra- da Babbuino, was first opened that studio, which so long continued to be one of the principal ornaments of Italy, and the daily resort of the most enlightened from every nation in Europe. Thus, in his twenty- fifth year, we behold Canova finally esta- blished at Rome, and though not yet the best known, decidedly the most accom- plished artist of the age. 1 His removal took place on the 9th June 1783. He was succeeded in Rome by Signior Andrea Memmo. LIFE OF CANOVA. 309 CHAPTER VI. Difficulties and opposition experienced by Canova du- ring the early part of his progress — Anecdotes — Tomb of Ganganelli — Letter of Milizia — Tomb of Rezzonico — Remarks on, description, and compara- tive merits of these two monuments — Their impor- tance in illustrating the style and merits of the artist — Other labours — Statue of Psyche — Anecdotes — Group of Cupid and Psyche — Anecdotes — Canova receives offers of an establishment in Russia — Mo- nument of Emo — Generosity of the Venetian state — Group of Venus and Adonis — Anecdotes — French Revolution — Canova retires to Possagno — Enumeration of, and remarks on Canova's paint- ings. X he present era in the life of our illustrious artist must be viewed as alike precious and interesting to all, whatever may be the par- ticular province of exertion. At the mo- mentous period, when he had already much to lose, and every thing to gain by his first measures in an arduous profession, his con- duct affords a rare example of that moral fortitude which despises the censures of 310 LIFE OF CANOVA, malevolence, or of prevailing error; — of that most dignified of all self-denials — re- jection of the alluring celebrity of cotem- porary but ill-founded praise, in comparison with the distant, though not contingent approbation of a more enlightened age. Young, unprotected, unknown, and poor, he commenced his public career, with every obstacle to encounter as a reformer, and under the strongest inducements to pursue the path, however false, which conducted to present honour and emolu- ment. Yet, steady to those principles which his own native discernment, and the judgments of a few valued though uninfluential friends, encouraged him to believe true, he boldly persevered in a noble but unpopular course. At the same time, nature had apparently little quali- fied him for such a contest. His dispo- sition, — retiring, humble, modest, and diffident in the extreme, was the very re- verse of the ardent and opiniative tempera- ment which holds at nought, as opposed to its own notions, the sentiments of the LIFE OF CANOVA. 311 world. Nor could very sanguine hopes be derived from the success of preceding ef- forts. The group of Theseus and the Mi- notaur had indeed elicited merited com- mendation among the discerning few ; but by the great majority of artists and of con- noisseurs, the elevated yet unobtrusive beauties of its simple style remained un- appreciated. A facile and brilliant exe- cution concealed from observation the de- ficiency of vigorous and just design in the works of cotemporaries ; and in the fine arts, the number of those is small, who judge from other than those external qua- lities which merely address the grosser senses, — or who penetrate to the loftier excellencies of sentiment and of feeling. In proportion, then, as reformation in sculpture thus generally appeared unne- cessary, were real defects great, and ob- stacles in attempting to remove them nu- merous. To rectify the corruptions of taste, is in all cases more difficult than to elevate to maturity an infant art ; but the aberra- tions now most essential to be repressed, 312 LIFE OF CANOVA, were exactly those which, by the many in all ages, have been regarded as the indica- tions of genius, of imagination, and talent. Accordingly, Canova early began to ex- perience that opposition with which igno- rance and prejudice assail merit, when it presumes to rise superior to surrounding mediocrity. To his principles, both of theory and of practice, was opposed the whole host of artists, at this time directed by methods altogether different. Some, therefore, made it their constant study to depreciate the youthful aspirant — as timid in execution, constrained in manner, and poor in fancy. They represented him as one capable of careful and correct finish- ing, when guided by the more brilliant conceptions of another, but who, if left to his own resources, produced works " senza gusto, senza brio, e senza grazia V Others, with greater appearance of candour, and of kindly dispositions, but in reality with 1 " Without taste, without fire, and without grace ;" the expression of one of those now forgotten cotem- poraries, — the echo of all. LIFE OF CANOVA. 313 more dangerous insinuation, affected to commiserate the mistake of a young man, otherwise possessing some talent, who, from bad instruction, had misunderstood the true object of art, and was pursuing a mode of study in the highest degree erroneous and injudicious. Nature, in their estima- tion, was an imperfect guide, which would conduct to meanness of expression and po- verty of effect, reducing the arts to the pri- mitive imbecility of their infant state. To invest her simplicity with grandeur and with dignity, it was necessary, they maintained, to imitate nature — not directly, but through the medium of those principles which Mi- chael Angela or Bernini and their scholars had established. Nor was it only profes- sional opposition that Canova had to com- bat. Merit has ever to pay a drawback to the vanity or cotemporanes, in propor- tion to its superiority or success. In the present instance, some were filled with en- vy of the reputation acquired by the sculp- tor on the exhibition of his first produc- tion ; — many were jealous of his good for- 314 LIFE OF CANOVA. tune in obtaining the monument on which he was now employed ; — while others were apprehensive lest his future fame should eclipse their own valued importance. Va- rious causes thus combined their influence to render the first years of his residence in Rome one continued and painful strug- gle, not to attain pre-eminence, but to sup- port a species of persecution. A hostility, in many respects so un- generous, could not fail deeply to wound a heart disposed to cherish every disinterest- ed feeling, imbued with the genuine love of art, and only as its promotion was con- cerned presuming to secede from the opi- nions of the age. Of the few confidential letters, indeed, written at this period, hard- ly one now remains which does not revert to the unhappiness thus occasioned \ The 1 " Poiche modesto e timido per indole, tenerissimo di eta, contornato da opposizione, egli non vedeva che ostacoli al suo modo di studiare e di produrre. Stette egli in forse, se quella sua maniera di videre e di sen- tire nelle arte, era la giusta e la vera, e per il suo grandissimo turbato e perplessita e per la sorda persecu- LIFE OF CANOVA. 315 different conclusions formed by friends, however, in order to explain the causes which enabled him to bear up against these machinations of his adversaries, unfitted as he was to support, and abhorring as he did any approach to a personal contest, appear extremely unsatisfactory. The very mo- desty of his disposition, — the retiring sen- sibility of his nature, — qualities seemingly regarded as principally disqualifying him from rebutting the rougher assailments of life, proved in reality the means of his ea- sier escape. Indifferent spectators were thus quickly disposed to declare for the less violent party ; and the more generous of his adversaries became ashamed of con- tinuing attacks, where scarcely defence, and no retaliation were attempted \ Personali- zione, e disprezzo degli antagonistic e per le dittatorie sentenze degli amatori ed intellegenti," &c. Cicog- nara — Lettere di Canova — Falier, &c. 1 " L'umilta, la schiettezza, il candore, la inarrivable sua modestia seppero agevolmente impadronirsi di tutti i cuori, e farsi il tesero di Roma. Falier, (Giuseppe). 316 LIFE OF CANOVA. ties, ever the most inveterate source of animosity, had thus no existence on one part, and on the other were soon deprived of rancour. In a professional capacity, this unassuming character was productive of still greater advantages. Though at this period Canova was frequently assailed by the most painful uncertainty, whether the principles which he pursued were well grounded, since they were so generally and so directly opposed to the opinions and practice of the times, his diffidence and reserve only urged him the more eagerly, silently and without ostentation, to esta- blish their truth. Not suffering his con- stancy to be subdued by occasional de- spondency, nor to be led away by the va- nity of proving that he could surpass his rivals, even in their own manner, — he sub- jected his views to a rigid examination, — he compared them with nature, — he flew to the Capitol — to the Vatican, where he con- fronted them with the antique. The result always calmed his solicitude, and soothed his anxiety. With renovated confidence he returned to his studies, and in solitude la- LIFE OF CANOVA. boured to perfect his style, without boast- ing to his friends, or triumphing over his opponents. Nor indeed was this modest reserve re- specting the merits of his own practice, maintained only while his fame was still to be secured; — it marked his conduct through life. To the observations even of friends, whether commendatory or critical, he rare- ly replied. " To praise," he used to say, " what can I answer ? To the censures of well-wishers I must also listen in silence ; for if wrong, their feelings would be hurt by telling them so, — if correct, I endeavour to profit by the remarks." Hence it fre- quently occurred, that former criticisms were recalled to the remembrance of those who had expressed them by the artist af- terwards pointing out the consequent cor- rection. Or sometimes the friendly critic was surprised by the exhibition of a model, representing a group or a single figure in unison with some idea previously suggested, and which had met the approbation of the sculptor, who, though a silent, thus pro- ved to be no inattentive or indocile ob- 318 LIFE OF CANOVA. server. " Our thoughts," he was wont to remark, " may be expressed in various ways ; — one speaks — another writes. I also have my peculiar mode ; — in my chi- sel I find words and letters." A particular instance will illustrate this amiable modes- ty. About the period of which we now speak, an English nobleman ' had objected to the group of Theseus and the Minotaur, " that it was too cold, at the same time be- stowing just commendation on the simpli- city and purity of the style ; recommending to preserve the same manner in another similar performance, but to select a more impassioned subject." To these observa- tions the artist listened in silence, but in a short time after produced the model of that most lovely work — the group of Cupid and Psyche, in which the latter is recum- bent, and the former bending over the ob- ject of his affections. To his Lordship's expressions of surprise and pleasure, the unassuming sculptor merely replied, " Pre- 1 The late Lord Bristol, who with all his eccentri- cities was no mean judge of the fine arts. LIFE OF CANOVA. 319 ferisco costantemente di rispondere a quanto convenevole ossemato piu tosto collo scarpello y che colle parole" " I always prefer to answer a judicious observation rather with my chisel than by words \" The same freedom from all arrogance or pretension, was not less apparent in the conduct of Canova, in regard to public criticism. When urged to refute certain injurious re- marks on his works, which had appeared in some of the literary journals, — with that noble candour which usually accompanies exalted genius, he answered, " Le mie opere sono in pubblico, e il pubblico ha tutto il di- retto di giudicarle ; — ma io mi sono proposito di non rispondere a qualunque critica osser- vazione altrimente, che colV impiegare ogni studio per meglio fare" " My works are before the public, and that public has every right to pass judgment upon them ; but for my own part, it is my resolution not 1 Or as the anecdote has been differently reported to the author, " Amo meglio parlare colle mane che colla lingua." " I love better to speak with my hands than with my tongue." 320 LIFE OF CANOVA. . to reply to any critical observation whatso- ever, otherwise than by exerting every ef- fort to do better." Natural inclination, by thus disposing him to disregard, finally enabled Canova to overcome the rivalry of opposition, and the persecutions of malignancy. In the solitude of his workshop he found not merely an asylum, — but while, in sedulous application to his profession, he sought peace, he obtained by rapid improvement the means of victory. Nearly two years of unremitting toil both of body and mind were consumed in arranging the design, and in composing the models for the Tomb of Ganganelli •• The labours which he supported at this time were indeed very great, — both as he performed every thing with his own hand, being as yet unable to remunerate the ser- vices of others, — and as he realized on the present occasion the long meditated design of executing the original models in a simi- lar manner, and of the same dimensions 1 The years 1783—84. LIFE OF CANOVA, 321 with the projected work. It had all along been the practice of modern masters to fi- nish from previous studies, often of very diminutive proportions. Michael Angelo indeed became sensible of, and in the lat- ter part of his life endeavoured to rectify, this error ' ; but as among his successors an almost extemporaneous execution was deemed an indication of talent, his late ex- ample in this respect was disregarded, and statues were very generally executed from mere sketches. The disadvantages of this method, we have seen, were early detected by Canova, though opportunity had been 1 We are informed by Vasari, that towards the close of life, Michael Angelo began to study his compositions in sculpture with more care, making models, not only for statues, but also for architectural ornaments, of the full size, which he used even to place at their proper height, in order to judge of the true effect of the future work, (Vit. di M. Angelo). Cellini likewise observes, " E nel Buonaroti si vede che avendo egli esperimen- tato tutti due i detti modi, cio, di fare le statue secon- do i rnodelli piccoli e grandi ; alia fine accorto della differenza, us6 il secondo modo, &c. Dell' Orif. e della Scult. &c. 322 LIFE OF CANOVA. denied of applying the proper remedy, which was now found so completely effec- tive, that in no one instance was it after- wards abandoned by its inventor \ The difficulties to be overcome in com- posing without assistance, figures of a co- lossal magnitude, while the methods of working such masses of the material were unknown, and to be acquired from person- al experience, may readily be conceived. The continued fatigue, the frequent fail- ures would have discouraged any mind not bent on excelling. One day a friend entering his studio unexpectedly, discover- ed the artist sitting overcome with labour and despondency ; — on remarking that much trouble might be spared by proceed- ing in the usual way, Canova, in the spirit of genuine enthusiasm, replied, " I am at- tempting to surpass those who pursue cus- tomary modes, and am prepared to encoun- ter the greatest obstacles as the price of 1 Letter of Canova to Falier, dated " Roma, 26. Agosto 1784." LIFE OF CANOVA. 323 success." To the attainment of this supe- riority, every thought was directed, and every moment devoted. Not satisfied with the result of his first essays, though produc- tive of two very beautiful figures, the alle- gorical statues which ornament the tomb of Clement he twice modelled, and that of Temperance was substituted for one of Piety \ The models and the design being finally adjusted, upwards of two years more were spent in the most laborious diligence before the monument was completed. At length, early in 1787, was exposed to public inspection, this long-expected work, — a performance which alone would have established the name of Canova as the greatest artist of modern times, since it 1 The two first figures of Piety and Meekness are still preserved among the works of Canova, though never executed in marble : the latter is but slightly dif- ferent from that on the monument. Piety, however, is much changed from that of Temperance, by which it was replaced, the one being in a standing, the other in a recumbent posture. Both these figures are very beautiful, but there is greater variety in those which now compose the monument. x 2 324 LIFE OF CANOVA, justly ranks among those illustrious pro- ductions that form, while they announce, the commencement of a new and impro- ving era. Standing itself in full and glo- rious light, it directs the eye from the gloom of preceding feebleness and corrup- tion, to a splendid prospect of renovated grandeur and beauty. Without entering into the details of the first exhibition, when the voices of preju- diced critics, or of disappointed rivals, were drowned in the acclamations of other- wise universal praise, it may suffice here to introduce the translation of a letter written by Milizia, " that terrible Aristarchus of the arts," — " that bitter critic who never ceased to exclaim against modern arts and artists x ." This document will not only supply an excellent description of the work, but while is thus shewn the estimation in which it was generally held, the observa- tions remain proofs of correct judgment honourable alike to the writer as to the sculptor. 1 Cicognara, Paravia. LIFE OF CANOVA. 325 w A singular phenomenon, my Dear Count, wherefore I write to you, — what a proem ! In the church of the Holy Apostles, near the entrance to the sacristy, and front- ing down one of the side aisles, the sculptor Antonio Canova, a Venetian, has erected a Mausoleum to Pope Ganganelli. The basement is divided into two plinths. Up- on the first sits a beautiful female, called Meekness — meek as the Lamb which re- poses at her side. Upon the second divi- sion is the urn, over which, on the oppo- site side, reclines Temperance, another beautiful figure. From behind rises a pe- destal supporting a seat of antique form, where full of dignity, and clothed in a most becoming manneY^jyapalissimamente), is seated his Holiness, with the right arm and hand extended horizontally, in atti- tude of commanding — of pacifying — of pro- tecting. Such is the monument. The whole is of white marble, except the lower basement, the pedestal and chair, which are of a greyish colour, (Lumacello). The har- mony is delightful, the light proceeding 326 LIFE OF CANOVA, from above and in moderated splendour, whence every part comes out with great sweetness. The composition is of that sim- plicity, which seems facility itself, — yet is the very essence of difficulty. What repose, what elegance, what disposition ! The sculp- ture and the architecture, in the whole, as also in the details, is in the style of antiquity. Canova is an ancient, I know not whether of Athens, or of Corinth ; I feel assured, however, that if in Greece, and during the happiest ages of Grecian art, it had been required to sculpture a Pope, the subject would not have been treated in a manner different from the present. During the twenty-six years which I have passed here, in questa nrbe del orbe, I have never wit- nessed any work so generally applauded. Of all the productions of modern sculpture, this is declared by the most liberal and in- telligent artists to approach nearest to the antique. Even the ex-Jesuits themselves cannot forbear praising and admiring this marble Ganganelli. A circumstance surely to be regarded as a miracle of that Pope, LIFE OF CAXOVA, 327 who will henceforth derive no less glory from this monument, than from having suppressed that order ! It is indeed a per- fect work, of which were there any doubts, they would be dispelled by the very cen- sures of the Michael- AngelistS) the Berni- nists, the BoroministS) who, heaven pity them ! regard as defects the greatest of its beauties, — exclaiming against the drapery, the forms, the expressions — as antique ! Our friend, Pietro Vitali, is now employed upon an engraving of this monument. I congratulate myself then, with all the Ve- netians. I earnestly wish that the young artists may follow the noble career of Ca- nova, and that the fine arts may again be restored. — I wish much indeed, but I hope little '," &c. ■ This letter is dated from Rome, 21st April 1787, that is very soon after the work which it describes was finished. It was originally published by Cicognara, and subsequently among the " Lettre Inedite" of Gam- ba. Francisco San Giovanni, Count of Vicenza, to whom it is addressed, was one of those who, by their writings, aided the restoration of art. He died in 328 LIFE OF CANOVA. The engraving mentioned above, is the first of a splendid series in folio, represent- ing his principal works, which was pub- lished in successive plates under the in- spection of Canova. In the dedications of the different subjects, have been offer- ed lasting tributes of gratitude, or of re- spect, to all of his most esteemed friends, and to many of his professional patrons. Among those consecrated to friendship, the length and grateful terms in which it is couched, distinguish the address affixed to the present work, and shew how warm- ly the best feelings of our nature were che- rished by the author. This plate is dedi- cated to the ambassador Zuliani, who was then absent from Italy as Venetian envoy at the Ottoman Court, — a circumstance still more honourable to both parties : — (i Yours are my works, because I am yours. And, therefore, to dedicate them to you, without having previously informed you of my intention, is not presumption, but 1806, aged 81. Many of his MS. works on art, are still to be seen in the public library at Vicenza. LIFE OF CANOVA. 329 a duty. I aspire, if possible, to do some- thing worthy of that generous protection which supported me in the arduous career of art, that there may remain a proof of this age possessing its Pericles. But though my talents may prove unequal to so great an attempt, none can retain a deeper or more heartfelt sense of your beneficence in a sincere, tender, and respectful admiration of your splendid virtues \" 1 This is the only one of these dedications which ex- tends to any length, the others generally containing merely the name of the individual. The present is addressed in the following unaffected manner : " A sua Eccel sa il Sig. Cav. Gerolamo Zuliani, Bailo alia Por- ta Ottamana. — Antonio Canova, scultore da Possagno" Whether from accident or otherwise, there is often in the dedications of these plates, an amusing contradic- tion between the character or profession of the patron, and the subject represented. Thus, the engraving of the statue of the arch-tyrant, Napoleon, is dedicated to the only representative of a free Republic now in Eu- rope, the little state of San Marino. The Boxers are presented to a peaceful prelate, the late Cardinal-Se- cretary Gonsalvi, who might thence be presumed to have been an amateur of the milling art Polymnia is inscribed to a Lady, whose name might well frighten 330 LIFE OF CANOVA. The reputation of Canova was now just- ly very high, and his professional engage- ments were multiplied in proportion. A- mong his earliest patrons, we discover the names of two English noblemen, the one having ordered at this time a Cupid, the other a statue of Psyche, a subject which was afterwards frequently repeated with improvements '. These, however, and o- ther less important productions of this period, formed rather the avocations of leisure, than the employments of serious study, which was principally devoted to a work of greater magnificence, and which finally established the name of its author as the greatest of living masters. Never to be lulled into security by suc- cess, nor soothed into inactivity by the re- nown of past exertions, is a true attribute even the Muses themselves to pronounce, the Princess Kaunitz-Reetberg-Weissenwolf, &c. Vitali died soon after finishing the tomb of Ganganelli ; the principal engravers of the other plates are — Bonati, — Balestra, Bertoni, — Consorti, — Fontana and Marchetti. 1 Lord Cawdor, who continued a steady and esteem- ed friend, commissioned the former, and Sir Henry Bltindd the latter of these figures. LIFE OF CANOVA. 331 generous of intellectual greatness. In minds self-complacency has no existence ; and the approbation of others acts but as an incentive to renovated efforts. The monument of Clement XIV., therefore, was not yet completely terminated, when Canova commenced another cenotaph, of not inferior magnitude, to the memory of Rezzonico, Clement XII., which the ne- phews of that pontiff had resolved to erect in St Peter's. This artist, as is ob- served by an Italian critic, " thus seem- ed to begin where other sculptors con- clude their labours, with such grand and colossal undertakings as are very rare- ly confided to those whose reputation a long course of years, and a numerous se- ries of works, have not established." But it was not necessary that time should prove the superiority of Canova : his own merits, and the mediocrity of cotemporaries, were at once apparent. He had also, from the commencement, undeviatingly pursued a well-grounded and progressive course of instruction, which enabled him, at an age 332 LIFE OF CANOVA. when most are still in their noviciate, to present himself to his surprised and de- lighted countrymen — a bold reformer, yet on judicious and refined principles. Nei- ther from these advantages, however, nor by recent triumph, was he induced to in- termit caution, or to lessen application. Nearly five years of diligent study or of laborious industry, were devoted to the present beautiful production. The same careful method, as in the former instance, was employed in modelling the figures; and almost the entire execution was the labour of the artist's own hand. Nothing was trusted to science alone, — a practice apt to lead into conventional modes, but every separate part was faithfully studied from nature, — a fact which will sufficient- ly appear from one particular. The two Lions in this monument were not finish- ed, till after long and repeated observa- tion on the habits and forms of the living animals. Wherever they were to be seen, Canova constantly visited them, at all hours, and under every variety of cir- LIFE OF CANOVA. 333 cumstance, that he might mark their na- tural expression in different states of ac- tion and of repose, of ferocity or gentle- ness. One of the keepers was even paid to bring information, lest any favourable opportunity should pass unimproved. In 1792 this justly celebrated work was placed in its present situation, in the right lateral nave of St Peter's. The general design resembles the preceding Tomb of Ganganelli. The basement, divided in the centre by a door, is, like the former, composed of two gradations, on which are placed the same number of emblematic fi- gures, with the sarcophagus between ; above rises the plinth or pedestal, supporting the kneeling figure of the aged Pontiff. On the left reclines a winged genius of Death, sup- porting his head on the inverted torch, and fixing a mournful look on the entrance to the tomb ; while at his feet, on the first division of the base, reposes a sleeping lion, " guardando A guisa di Leon quando si posa '." 1 Dante Purgatorio, c. vi. p. 64. 334 LIFE OF CANOVA. To the right, on the second plinth, stands in a firm and erect posture, the personifi- cation of Religion, bearing in one hand the cross, while the left arm stretched out, gently rests against the urn. This is solid and plain, having in front an ornament- ed medallion, within which is inscribed, Clement. XIL — Rezzonico — P. M. — Fratris Filii. Under the figure of Religion also couches a Lion — but awake, in attitude of guarding inviolate the approach to the se- pulchre, and ready with a tremendous roar to spring upon the intruder, " Come rugge il Leon, l . The statue of the Pontiff being turned, as custom requires, towards the tribune of that majestic temple which it adorns, presents only the profile in front. Bareheaded, the tiara being placed before him, and clothed in a rich sacerdotal stole, which falls around in grand yet simple folds, — with clasped 1 Tasso. Right and left of a cenotaph of course im- ply these positions in relation to the principal figure. LIFE OF CANOVA. 335 hands, the aged father ■" quivi inchina e riverente, Abza il pensier sovra ogni ciel sublime V But though in the general composition of these monuments an affinity may be traced, — no two productions discover more varied, more judicious, or more appropriate invention. Even to the architecture, they maintain a close connection with the cha- racter, to perpetuate whose virtues is the object of their erection. Ganganelli, tem- perate and humble as a simple priest, — energetic, liberal, and enlightened as a se- cular prince, — is honoured in a tomb, dis- tinguished by elegance and nobleness ; while the figures are strictly symbolical of his private excellences. The memory of Rezzonico, estimable chiefly for sincere piety, is preserved by a monument breath- ing the very spirit of that severe grandeur which becomes religion and sorrow. The grouping in both tends alike to the pyra- midal, but in the former it is less marked, 1 Tasso. 336 LIFE OF CANOVA. and the eye, with great propriety, is suffer- ed to repose with more definite sensation on each successive figure. In the latter the general arrangement is more sustained, the figures being admirably united by the lions at the base ; the whole effect is rich- er, but the separate parts are less singly prominent. In this, also, superior magni- ficence was requisite, in accordance with the higher majesty of the site. It is, however, in the two principal fi- gures, where the skill and judgment of the artist are most conspicuous, — while the contrast which these present eminently manifest the fertility of his imagination. In the statue of Ganganelli, he has boldly rejected the rights of prescription, so long admitted by the imbecility of preceding masters ; and, instead of sculpturing the mere features of the individual, devoid of all expression — the limbs without action at the moment of giving the benediction, with a corner of the robe folded over the knees, — he has transferred to the marble the mental energy which characterised the LIFE OF CANOVA. 337 living Pontiff, who is represented in a no- ble and imposing attitude of religion and of empire — in act of blessing, of protect- ing and of governing his people : — " A sacred influence beams in every look, As o'er the subject earth, aloft extends His sacerdotal arm — like one who rules The things of nature in their secret depths; Such his aspect in life — when by his word Aw'd into peace, proud nations ceas'd from hate. Thus seated 'mid celestial joys serene, Th' Eternal, high his glorious right-hand rais'd, When shrunk at his command — rebuk'd — repress'd, The giant-flood that whelm'd a guilty world ; — Calm'd by a nod, the black'ning tempests clear'd ; Hush'd were the savage winds, and mercy's sign Spann'dwith radiant arch heaven's peaceful vault 1 ." If in one instance advantages in the na- ture of the subject were thus enjoyed — the 1 " Dio gli sorride in volto : il labbro spira Aura celeste, e sul sogetto mondo La man," &c. Carme sul deposito di GanganellL Versi sui Marmi di Canova— da Melchior Missirini, p. 20. The original being in " versi sciolti," blank verse, has been retained in the translation. Y 338 LIFE OF CANOVA. statue of Rezzonico is the unmingled triumph of genius and of art. Weighed down by years, his form disfigured by obe- sity and decay, in the actual lineaments, which it was necessary to preserve, were presented neither dignity nor expression ; yet such is the unaffected earpestness of manner — so deep the devotional sentiment diffused over the countenance, that the whole figure is invested with a majesty and an interest hardly to be obtained from the highest efforts of the merely ideal and poetical. The whole, but especially the head, were entire novelties in sculpture — without exemplars in antiquity, and equal- ly unprecedented in modern times. " The Pope," says Paravia, " seems really in conference with God, so devout his bear- ing — so affecting is his seriousness, — even the careless flowing of his pontifical gar- ments mark the soul totally absorbed in thought :" However great or numerous, in- deed, the beauties of the subordinate parts, their skilful disposition gently guides the LIFE OF CANOVA. 339 eye to the principal figure, the excellences of which then fix our regards. u Rob'd in sacred vestments, there behold The Sire, whose words the gates of bliss unfold ; Join'd are his hands — his eyes in meekness close, Kneeling in prayer, his looks on earth repose ; — Yet in those humble looks —those downcast eyes, We read divine communion with the skies V Anion 2 the loveliest creations of Canova's hand, is the Mourning Genius in this mo- nument. — Never, in the most perfect works of his maturer age, has he excelled the sublimity of conception — dignity of expression — or sweetness of execution, which distinguish this delightful produc- tion. The artist has here accomplished the object of his long and painful pupilage, — an object which Michael Angelo either despaired of attaining, or rejected in favour of a more narrowed theory, — namely, the union of a natural and simple style with " Nel suo gran manto avvolto il sacerdote Che le porte del ciel chiude e disserre Con le man giunte, ,, &c. Versi sul Mon. di Rezzonico da Paolo Casta. Y 2 340 LIFE OF CANOVA. all the exalted grandeur of imaginative and ideal beauty. With the model of this figure the sculptor was himself delighted, and laboured to complete the statue in the most exquisite manner. So anxious was he in this respect, that a dark discolora- tion in the first block, not discovered till the work had been some time in progress, determined him, at whatever personal loss, to throw it aside. By this sacrifice of in- terest to fame and principle, the marble alone cost 500 crowns \ The personification of Religion is an en- 1 About 100 guineas. The exchange, during the author's residence at Rome, was 4s. 2d. per crown. The care of his own fame was not the sole motive which actuated Canova on this and similar occasions ; his principles of action were still more honourable : it was, says his friend Falier, " il disinterresse con che tratto sempre per fine i risultati delP arte sua." He himself, also, in a letter, where he describes the de- fects of the marble in question, expresses his resolution to let nothing be wanting, however contrary to his mere pecuniary interest. " Per soddisfare alia sua fama e per far piacere ai suoi mecenati." Lettera di Canova, Feb. 20. 1790. This is the statue mentioned in " Corinne" as resembling Oswald. LIFE OF CANOVA, 34 1 tirely original creation of the sculptor. Equally removed from the unideal forms of individual reality, as from the no less inappropriate associations of classic inven- tion, it is characterised by a heavenly tran- quillity, a sedate gravity and decorum, suitable to the high and mysterious alle- gory. w Respect and mingled joy rise in the soiil, As on these sacred lineaments we gaze, Where lofty majesty and calm control, Join'd with benignant sweetness, claim our praise ; Eyes meekly bright, pure love inspire; while grace Ineffable breathes from the virgin face V This figure, however, is the least pleasing in that noble composition of which it con- stitutes so conspicuous a part. The desire of retaining an extreme simplicity of attire and of deportment, seems to have cramped the powers of the artist, and to have pro- duced a constraint — a poverty — a want of 1 " Air alta immago attento, Sento invadermi il cor gioja e rispetto, Chi non pur dessa," &c. Ode sulla Statua delta Relig. Missirini, p, 204, 342 LIFE OF CANOVA. customary elegance, which in the general effect approach to the rigid or even un- gracious. The unavoidable position of the statue, which not only exposes it in an unfavourable light, but occasions the throwing an injurious shade over the op- posite portion of the monument, doubtless exaggerates these defects '• These two monuments employed almost ten years of the most vigorous season of life. These were indeed years of unceasing toil and solicitude, both as the affairs of 1 Etiquette requires that in the cenotaphs erected in St Peter's, the statues of the Pontiffs be turned to- wards the tribune, or alleged chair of the Apostle. It was also necessary, in following this practice in the present case, to place the figure of Religion on the right of the kneeling Pope. Unfortunately for this arrangement, the light falls on the monument from a window on the right also; hence the back of the lat- ter figure is turned to the strongest illumination, and not only its front is in obscurity, but a deep shadow is also by this means subtended on the Lion, and beauti- ful group of the Genius and Sleeping Lion opposite. Cicognara says the effect is very brilliant during the grand illumination of St Peter's : — the Author found it feeble and ineffective. LIFE OP CANOVA. 343 the artist did not permit of having recourse to the assistance of inferior workmen, and as he meditated technical improvements, and modes of execution unknown to co-^ temporaries. Much valuable time was thus lost to all the nobler purposes of stu- dy, while the conducting from their rude and shapeless state, to their final and ex- quisite forms such colossal masses, was no less exhausting to the mind than to the body. The method, however, which was now first adopted, and subsequently per- fected, not only allowed in future, exclusive attention to the higher provinces of art, but enabled this master to produce a greater number of original works than any other of modern times can boast. This method, at present universally followed, consists, as before stated, in composing models, of ex- actly the same proportions as the intended statues. But this was not all the improve- ment. These models were finished with the utmost care, and with all the delicacy of which the material is susceptible ; from these, casts in gypsum or plaster of Paris 344 LIFE OF CAN OVA. were afterwards taken \ These latter* preserving the originals from damage, and forming a very near approach to the real marbles, served as guides, by which mere artificers were taught to bring almdst to a conclusion the most beautiful productions. Thus in future works, Canova merely gave the finishing touches — those traits of in- spiration and of vitality, which no hand but his could impart. In the Mausolea of Ganganelli and of Rezzonico, the details of execution thus become peculiarly interesting, both as il- lustrating the genius of Canova in all its bearings, and as exhibiting his superiority 1 The former by Italian sculptors are termed Mo- delli, or sometimes from the material Crete, from creta, the name given to the species of clay employed in their formation ; — the latter are distinguished by the appellation Gessi, from gesso, gypsum. These are marked in the requisite places with pencil lines, and frequently brass points are inserted, to which the workman applies his compasses or other instruments employed for taking dimensions ; and nothing can be more mechanical than the manner in which the process of manufacturing a block into a statue is conducted. LIFE OF CANOVA. 345 to every rival, even in that department where alone some traces of ancient excel- lence still existed. In this respect, then, abstracting the indisputable and high pre- eminence of composition, there cannot be question, that in the graces and force of a facile or bold technicality, these perfor- mances maintain an equally proud, though less apparent supremacy* They unite the strength and dexterity of cotemporary works, with a delicacy, elegance and truth altogether their own. As particular ex- amples of powerful management, may be instanced the robes of Ganganelli, the dra- pery of the two female figures, particular- ly of Meekness, and the Lions in the Tomb of Rezzonico ; while for beauty of finish, the head and arms of Temperance, the countenance and entire torso of the weep- ing Genius, remain unsurpassed, even by the succeeding labours of their author. The fervour of youth seemed to supply the experience of maturer genius; various parts of both these monuments thus present a combination of painful and dexterous skill, 346 LIFE OF CANOVA. such as Canova himself has been heard to say he could scarcely hope to excel, and would not easily be induced to repeat. A- mong the parts thus mentioned were the skin and mane of the two Lions : of these a little anecdote may illustrate the won- derful force and truth. One day while the Author, (a frequent employment,) stood at some distance admiring in different points of view the Tomb of Rezzonico, a woman with a child in her arms advanced to the Lion, which appears to be watching. The terrified infant began to scream violently, clinging to the nurse's bosom, and exclaim- ing, " Mordera, mamma, mordera I ." The mother turned to the opposite one, which seems asleep ; her charge was instantly pacified; and smiling through tears, ex- tended its little arm to stroke the shaggy head, whispering in subdued accents, as if afraid to awake the monster, " come pla- cido ; — non mordera quello, mamma \" Dearly, however, was this excellence 1 " It will bite, mamma, it will bite." * " How gentle ! — this one will not bite, mother." LIFE OF CANOVA. 347 purchased. To the exhausting operations — the unwearied exertions necessary in blocking out, with his own hand, such masses of marble, and in conducting to a conclusion, almost by his single labour, two works of such magnitude, has been ascri- bed the origin of that disease which ulti- mately proved fatal to the valuable life of the artist. Alas ! that Genius, while aspi- ring to immortality, should, by too arduous endeavours, so often foster the causes of its own dissolution ! The examination of these monuments, the first grand erections which firmly esta- blished the reputation of the sculptor, — which especially illustrate his improve- ments, his style, and modes of study, — which mark the earliest progress of that splendid reformation finally consummated by his subsequent labours, — which appear- ed suddenly to elevate the arts from a fal- len, degraded, and barbarous state, to vi- gour, elegance, and truth, — which traced out a new path to future masters, standing as guides to direct, and examples to ani- 348 LIFE OF CANOVA, mate their endeavours, — has, from these very circumstances, been extended to con- siderable length. Henceforth details of individual productions must be brief, and selection employed in the subjects. To follow, in every instance, exertions so prolific and indefatigable, would prove an arduous undertaking. The chisel of Canova appeared with greater rapidity to create, than the humble pen of his bio- grapher may aspire to describe ; — nor would emulation here be pursued with unabated interest or pleasure. Yet the ap- pearance of his principal works distinguish the most marked occurrences of life. Whatever sensations these produced in the world, whether they provoked censure or excited approbation, (and both indiscrimi- nately accompanied his earlier performan- ces,) Canova, like our own immortal Newton, never himself descended into the arena of contest, or mingled in the field of dispute. When, latterly, opponents arose even in that tract which he had first pur- sued alone, and when his influence had LIFE OF CANOVA. 349 shed renewed strength and beauty over pro- strate art, his conduct was still the same. From the calm tranquillity — the inviolable retirement of his studio, he seemed to look out in pity on the petty jealousies of lesser minds, — sending forth from time to time such glorious emanations of superlative genius, that criticism was silenced in ad- miration, and rivalry in despair. In the works of Canova we are frequent- ly delighted by a certain indefinable charm diffused over, and emanating from them — a something altogether etherial and intel- lectual which transports the mind, yet mocks the palpable and grosser scrutiny of the senses. This indescribable fascination — this ineffable enchantment seem princi- pally to arise from these productions being generally an embodiment of some eleva- ting conception, or endearing sentiment — not confined to expression, or form, or at- titude, but diffused over the whole, and transpiring from every part ; so that the effects captivate-— raise — refine even those who merely gaze with material eye on the 350 LIFE OF CANOVA. lovely creation, unable to penetrate the mystery of those higher emotions which they experience. Thus, an agreeable per- fume, concealed within a precious vase, sheds a balmy atmosphere around that softly steals over the soul, — while the sight alone appears delighted by the noble shrine in which the latent sweetness is imprison- ed. Among those performances, in which is exhibited this secret, and as it were spiri- tual character of beauty, the statue of Psyche is especially to be enumerated. Un- der the form of a young virgin at that in- teresting age, intermediate between child- hood and adolescence, is represented a personification of our immaterial part. But, in this charming composition, following the sublime ideas of Plato, the artist, un- der an external symbol, has laboured to realize the effects of those exalted and ennobling pleasures which arise from men- tal pursuits, — to express that internal and independent enjoyment which the soul de- rives from cultivation and exercise of its own heaven-born faculties. Most success- fully has this design been accomplished ; LIFE OF CANOVA. 351 and though at first Psyche, intently occu- pied with the winged insect in her hand, seems but the sporting of a child — we soon become conscious of a more refined grati- fication than can be received from gazing on the inanimate lineaments of youth, and beauty, and innocence, however perfect the resemblance. SONNET. Hail gentle being — seraph pure and mild ! Thou seem'st, bright image of the human soul, Life's earliest pledge — when first creation smil'd, And power eternal bade existence roll. Sweet modesty adorns thy growing charms ; In nascent orb just heaves thy virgin breast, Thy downcast glance yet sheds no soft alarms, But dawning excellence through all is trac'd. Ah say ! whose gracious spirit art thou then, Who thus resplendent in our nether sphere, Surpassest in thy beauty Nature's ken ? Yes — thou art his, whose art sublime yet clear, In thee, by means till now unknown to men, Has made his better part immortal here ' ! 1 Psice sola — Sonetto — beginning, Creatura gentil — Vaga angioletta Che sei Timmago, &c. Missirini, No. xxxi. 352 LIFE OF CANOVA. In the merely technical details, — in the delicacy and justness of the contours, — in the harmony of the proportions, — in the elegance of the drapery, a simple robe of almost transparent texture, this must be ranked among the most faultless and clas- sical of Canova's works, — it wants but the sanction of antiquity to be deemed the ge- nuine labour of the Grecian chisel. Here also we discover one of the earliest, and a very striking example of that exquisite fi- nish, which, amid innumerable other excel- lences, constitutes so especial a distinction of this master's style. Nor, when its original destination, as the pledge of friendship and of gratitude is considered, need we be sur- prised, that in this statue the artist should have exerted his utmost skill. Canova had meditated some more substantial proof of grateful feeling than a bare dedication to his kind patron Zuliani ; and, accord- ingly, on that gentleman's return from Constantinople, requested his acceptance of the Psyche now described, which had LIFE OF CANOVA. 353 been finished with that intent. Zuliani, however, refused to accept as a gift so valuable a marble, and the modest artist remained much hurt by a refusal so unex- pected, but well intended. Their mutual friends endeavoured to accommodate the affair, and the architect Silva at length re- conciled this generous contest. The Am- bassador consented to receive the statue, while Canova agreed to accept in return, a number of medals in gold and silver, representing Psyche on one side, with his own head on the other, for the purpose of distributing among such friends and ar- tists as were deemed to merit that distinc- tion. Unfortunately, when the dye for the medal was now completed, and the statue on its way to Venice, Zuliani died. The heirs of that nobleman, irritated by certain clauses in his will, by which all the works of art belonging to the deceased were be- queathed to the public library, refused to ratify the preceding agreement, or to re- ceive the statue in question. Canova, over- 354 LIFE OF CANOVA. whelmed with grief for the loss of his pa- tron, and moved by this ungenerous con- duct, could not bear the idea of ever again beholding a work connected with so many disagreeable recollections, but directed Sil- va to dispose of it at any price, and to any purchaser. In consequence of this ar- rangement, this celebrated figure came in- to the possession of Count Mangili ; from whom it was subsequently purchased by Napoleon, and by him presented to the Queen of Bavaria, who, as is said, resta ra- pita alprimo videre questo precioso monumen- to delV arte moder?ia, was beyond measure delighted with this precious monument of modern art \ 1 In a letter to Falier, dated from Rome, 3d April 1795, Canova gives an account of the transaction as related in the text. Many years after, by the death of one of the executors of Zuliani, the dye ordered by that nobleman for the medals to be presented to Cano- va came into the possession of Silva, who had been the mediator in that business. By this gentleman, a very few impressions in silver and copper were thrown off*. From a drawing of one of these, the medal, No. I. LIFE OF CANOVA. 355 If the equanimity of Canova could have been disturbed by the envious rivalry of inferior artists, this was not the only out- rage which his feelings were destined to experience through the medium of this work. Though so generally admired, that Mangili's house was crowded every day with applicants for leave to view it, this universal approbation seemed only the more to exasperate the jealous inferiority of the Venetian artists. One of these, with the design of paying court to a so- ciety protected by imperial countenance, undertook to prove that the style of art introduced by Canova was altogether erro- neous and imbecile. Having made a copy of the Psyche, he contrived to adapt to it a moveable drapery, designed and execu- ted according to those principles of the old school, which were soon fated to linger solely among Academicians, and those in this work was executed. The head, in which the likeness is carefully preserved, is curious, as a portrait of Canova in youth. z2 356 LIFE OF CANOVA. whom age or prejudice rendered incapable of improvement. The copy thus prepared, was exhibited on proper occasions such as the original really was, and the poverty of effect attempted to be pointed out ; then the additional drapery being applied, the figure was said to acquire nobleness, and grace, and dignity, &c. The comparison, it was concluded, would overwhelm the rising reputation of Canova. " Cosa" says a writer of that time, " che non ebbe al- tro effeto che far vedersi il cattivo gusto degli invent ori I ." But Psiche soletta, or the widowed Psyche, as this figure is sometimes called, seemed to mourn the absence of her youthful spouse ; and in two different groups, and with opposite expression, has the fertile imagination, and delicate hand of the artist, 1 The contriver of this statue was Toretto, the last master under whom Canova wrought during the early part of his stay in Venice. Canova, in his letter, takes no notice of the circumstance, and afterwards support- ed by a pension this very artist. LIFE OF CANOVA. 357 united Cupid with his innocent bride. In the former of these groups the sculptor has followed the fable of Apuleius ; in the lat- ter, he has exemplified the sublimer concep- tions of Plato ; in the one, with invention altogether original, he has represented those youthful and happy beings in such a manner as to touch, gli conjini della volut- ta la piu dolce ; while in the other, the expression is more tempered, and the de- light more placid : In both was dared a perilous confronting with the antique, while numerous difficulties in the subject itself were also to be encountered. In pre- serving the essential characteristic of sim- plicity, where so little scope was permitted, there was great danger of becoming tame and insipid, while the nascent forms re- quired profound knowledge, no less than exquisite management, to avoid the oppo- site errors of the defective and the exag- gerated. In all these respects the efforts of the artist have been crowned with the most complete success. In the former of these celebrated groups, 358 LIFE OF CANOVA. the moment of representation has been chosen, when Psyche recovers from the insensibility caused by the pestiferous va- pour included within the fatal urn, which, with curiosity natural to her sex, she had imprudently opened. In a half recumbent posture, Love fondly bends over the pro- strate nymph, one arm encircling her beau- tiful bosom, and the other supporting her languishing head ; while she, with answer- ing caresses, and both hands raised to his head, gently draws the face downwards to meet her own : " Stretched on the ground the Virgin Psyche lies, Like some fair rose torn from its stem away, Within whose damask bosom ere it dies, Freshness a while yet triumphs o'er decay ; But Love, with odours from his mother's breast, And life diffusing from his native skies, Dispels the vapours that her sense oppress'd ; — She breathes, she lives, she opes her languid eyes, And finds within his arms her wonted place of rest ' !" 1 Imitation of some lines by Messirini, beginning " Giacea sal masso la Virgin leggiadra Come recisa rosa," &c. Amore e Psiche, p. 133. LIFE OF CANOVA. 359 The sculptor regarded this work with considerable complacency, but he enter- tained some apprehensions — groundless, certainly, from the delicacy with which the subject is treated, lest the general expres- sion might be deemed too full of melting sensibility ; — an opinion that without doubt aided in suggesting the second group, and which may probably have been strength- ened by such anecdotes as the following. One day, while some friends were loud in their commendations of this piece, a lady of high rank, and a great patroness of the arts, happening to be present, who, by the bye, was fully as remarkable for pru- dery as for real modesty, ventured " con molte sense" to object " ehe il sentimento era un pd* troppo vivo" — " to the senti- ment, as being a little too warm." " Bene, Signora" replied the sculptor, " bisogna temp" rare ilfoco di questi giovanetti" — " we must moderate the ardour of these young- sters." Canova was then meditating his second group ; but before the model was 360 LIFE OF CANOVA. completed, the fair, and, as alleged, frail critic, was obliged to undertake a sudden journey to Florence, — which scandal af- firmed to be under very peculiar circum- stances. Such suspicions, the languid ap- pearance of the traveller on her return did not tend to dispel. The new work quite charmed her, — more especially as it was flatteringly ascribed to her previous re- marks. " The whole effect," she declared, " was admirable, ma Tatto tenero, il mo- vimento languente di Psyche; — but above all, the tender expression, the languishing attitude of Psyche." " Oh" interrupted the witty but satirical Abbate M a, " E stataforse mandata a Firenza ; — " per- haps, Madam, Psyche has been at Flo- rence." This group, distinguished by the adjunct " inpiede" the former being called giacente, is justly designated as being " cost soave die non rimane al censore piu rigido qual desiderio di maggior pcrfezione " — " so de- lightful, that the most rigid critic can hard- LIFE OF CANOVA, 361 ly desire greater perfection." In this fi- gure of Psyche, the artist has imitated himself, it being almost a repetition of his former work, in which the nymph is represented alone ; while, if there be de- grees of beauty where both are so lovely, it is inferior to the companion with which it is now united. Though resembling in the general design the famous antique of the Capitol, the present performance differs in the conception of character — in expression, and in action. Psyche gently places the insect symbol on the right hand of the son of Venus, who with his left encircling her neck, tenderly reclines his head on her shoulder. In the calm and pure affection, — the almost celestial sweetness which beam in both the faultless countenances, we penetrate those lofty mysteries which the noblest of heathen philosophers has wrapped up in his chaste acceptation of this ancient allegory. The ideas which, from his own confession, it is known the 362 LIFE OF CANOVA. sculptor wished to convey, in addition to the mere portraiture of youthful beauty — the divine origin of the human soul — 'and the ennobling effects of virtuous love, are well expressed by the poet already quoted. " To Sense, a weak misguiding light, Remains unknown this mystic rite ; — But those on whom the Muse hath shed The lore, by which the wise are led, The truths divine behold reveal'd, Under these radiant forms conceal'd. Spark of celestial purity, Effusion bright of Deity, — Primeval birth of Nature's womb, — ■ Conqueror of the dreary tomb, — Essence mocking all decay, That animat'st our mortal clay, Whence but from Love first beam'd thy vital ray \ ,} All-powerful Love ! thy gladness cheers The dark abyss and shining spheres ; — Thou with the godhead view'dst sublime The noiseless march of eldest Time, When first the stars together sung, And Beauty from dull Chaos sprung ; LIFE OF CANOVA. 363 By thee was chas'd profane Desire, While genial flames the breast inspire — The sympathies of husband — child — and sire V 1 By these and other proofs of the loftiest genius, the reputation of Canova was now elevated so high, and his name extended so far, that the most flattering invitations were received from the Russian court, pressing his removal to St Petersburgh. These advantageous offers of imperial pa- tronage were, however, declined. " Italy," says he, writing on this occurrence to a friend, " Italy is my country — is the coun- try and native soil of the arts ; — I cannot leave it ; — my infancy was nurtured here ; — and if my poor talents can be useful in any other, they must be of some utility to this ; and ought not hers to be preferred to all other claims ?" With equal mode- 1 Imitation of Stanzas vii. to xii. inclusive, of " Ode al Gruppo di Anwre e Psiche, secondo le idee di Platone, commencing " II vulgo intanto di follie nudrito, Che oltre i sensi ingannevoli," &c. Missirini, p. 105. 364 LIFE OF CANOVA. ration, the artist again declined the renew- ed solicitations of the same court, that he would undertake a journey to St Peters- burgh, in order to make the necessary stu- dies for a colossal statue of the sovereign, which it was intended he should sculpture. A commission previously accepted from the Venetian Senate, was the ostensible cause of respectfully refusing this proffered honour. He wished to devote undivided attention to the commands of his early pa- tron, and was anxious, by the perfection of the work, to evince that their well-timed munificence had not been misplaced '. There was, besides, a secret reluctance to engage in an undertaking attended with many difficulties, great loss of time, and which, from the remoteness of its final destination, could tend little to promote the reputation of its author in the nearer and more refined portion of Europe. The commission above alluded to — the 1 Letters of Canova, dated November 22. and De- cember 20. 1794. — Private Correspondence of the Author, &c. Falier, &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 365 first which for a long lapse of years had been given by a body, once such generous protectors of the arts, was a monument to be raised by the Senate and People of Ve- nice to the memory of the latest of her warriors — the last Commander of her last fleet — the Admiral Emo, — a man whose heroism must still live in the recollection of many readers, — who, at a season of pub- lic calamity, wrote these memorable words to the representatives of the state : " Per- mit, I entreat of you, Conscript Fathers, that my whole patrimony may be applied towards restoring the melancholy disaster which the republic has this day sustain- ed '." On this occasion Canova produced a work worthy of recording such virtue — worthy of a grateful country — worthy of himself. The cenotaph is an alto relievo, with figures of the natural size. Elevated on a rostrated column, the base of which 1 The loss of great part of a Venatian fleet by a tempest, opposite the coast of Eleos. Gazzetta di Venezia, 366 LIFE OF CANOVA. is washed by the waves, is the bust of the deceased, a most striking and characteris- tic likeness ; on this noble head the Genius of Venice descends to place that crown so justly merited by his actions ; while Fame, kneeling on one of the floating batteries invented by the Admiral, and here judi- ciously introduced, is inscribing his name on the front of the pedestal with a pen of gold. With this beautiful composition the Senate shewed entire satisfaction ; and as a lasting mark of approbation, a gold medal, of the value of 100 sequins, was struck, bearing on the obverse a represen- tation of the monument, and on the re- verse the following laudatory inscription : " Antonio Canovce, Veneto, artibus elegan- tioribns mirifici instructor ob monumentum publicum Angelo Emo egregie insculptum, Senatus munus, a. m.dccxciv V Nor was 1 See Engravings of Medals, No. 2. " The re- ward of the Senate to Antonio Canova, native of Ve- nice, a most skilful master in the fine arts, for his ad- mirable execution of the public monument to the me- mory of Angelo Emo, anno 1794." LIFE OP CANOVA. 367 this honour the sole proof of the estima- tion in which the talents of the artist were held by his fellow-citizens. It was at the same time farther decreed, that he should receive from the revenue of the state a vitalizia or annuity for life, " mensuale cor- risponsione netta da qualunque aggravio di ducaii 100 valuta corrente — in retribuzione del monumento delV Ammiraglio Emo" The payment of this small donative, indeed, from the succeeding troubles of the repub- lic, was soon after intermitted, while the rapidly advancing fortunes of the artist rendered such aid unnecessary. As a mark of mutual esteem, however, it was not less honourable either to those who conferred, or to him who received this evidence of public favour. Numerous labours, the fruits of that in- defatigable industry, which, from the com- mencement, peculiarly distinguished, as it materially aided the progress of Canova, during the years 1795-6-7, followed in ra- pid succession. Of these, several being merely repetitions of productions already 368 LIFE OF CANOVA. described, while others will properly fall hereafter to be examined, it is only neces- sary briefly to notice the celebrated group representing the parting of Venus and Adonis. The youth is gazing tenderly on the goddess, with his left arm encircling her waist, and grasping in his right hand a hunting spear ; while she, by the most endearing yet chaste caresses, endeavours to avert his resolution of departing *. Though modelled at a former period, when the artist was employed on the monument of Rezzonico, the marble did not receive the full impress of his powers, till longer study had matured his conceptions of beau- ty and of sentiment. Accordingly, there is to be observed in this performance that elevation above her individual modifica- tions, which exhibits the most intimate and exalted perceptions of nature, — which 1 Many observations have been made respecting the coldness of expression in the countenance of Adonis. Those who make this objection would do well to recollect the remark of an Italian critic, that the lover is going out to, not returning from the chase. 1 LIFE OF CANOVA. 369 constitutes the true object of sublime art. Those excellences, of which gradual unfold- ing may be traced throughout the whole course of earlier exertions, have here at- tained decided development ; and we trace full possession of the firm, sustained, and ideal style that distinguishes the masters of antiquity. On the first arrival of this charming group in Naples, where it long occupied a genial site on the shores of " the won- drous bay V' — the king went to see it, and out of respect to the artist, every tax im- posed by existing regulations was remitted ; his Majesty declaring that this distinction was merited, " comefu opera di nuovo insigne ornamento alia capitale, e di perfetto modello agli alunni delle belle arti ;" — " the work being calculated to add a new and conspi- cuous ornament to the capital, and to prove a perfect model to students of the fine arts." As a more ample proof of 1 The original purchaser of this work was the Mar- chese di Berio, who erected a beautiful temple for its reception; twenty-seven years afterwards it became the property of M. Favre of Geneva. 2 A 370 LIFE OF CANOVA. royal approbation, the sculptor was on this occasion decorated with the insignia of the order of the two Sicilies, — an honour in- troductory to numerous others of a similar or higher rank. Genius is rarely the friend of political revolution. Occupied in its own lofty and refined pursuits, — elevated above the mists and obscurities — the passions and preju- dices which involve the inferior regions of the intellectual world, and form the mas- ter-springs of action in those restless spirits whose egotism at least equals their talents, it exists as in a pure and tranquil clime, surrounded by the beautiful creations or noble discoveries of its own agency. That order of things which secures the peaceful enjoyment of favourite avocations, is thus naturally cherished. " Volva sua spera, e beato si gode I ." The revolutionary frenzy then, which at the close of the eighteenth century over- spread Europe, excited no sympathy in the 1 Dante, Inferno, Canto vii. 96. LIFE OF CANOVA. 371 breast of Canova, but on the contrary fill- ed his mind with consternation. Even be- fore its insidious workings had yet betray- ed themselves in the atrocities which marked its advances, he had from its com- mencement expressed abhorrence of the system. " He wrote not a single letter to me from Rome," says Falier, and their correspondence during that space was un- interrupted, " throughout the whole course of 1797, up to the 12th of May 1798, in which deep affliction for the troubles and disposition of the times is not expressed." In fine, no longer able to endure those scenes of anarchy, of crime, and of violence which were daily presented in that city, and last of all the outrages committed on the liberty of the Pontiff, the artist aban- doned his numerous works — his extensive studios — and his rapidly increasing repu- tation, retiring to mourn these disorders in the peaceful, because unnoticed obscurity of his native Possagno. What changes had occurred in his life and prospects since last these solitudes were trodden by him, 2 a 2 372 LIFE OF CANOVA. an ardent — enthusiastic — yet poor and nameless youth, the destined successor of the hereditary stone-cutter in this neglect- ed village ! The same individual now re- turned to the scenes of boyhood, cherished by nobles — rewarded by senates — honour- ed by princes — but above all, distinguish- ed as one of those rare and highly gifted beings whose existence designates an e- poch in the mental records of the species. Of these distinctions their possessor seem- ed unconscious, — at least to his early as- sociates Canova presented the same unas- suming modesty — the same mild benevo- lence that had characterized " il giovine Antonio" the young Antonio, when for- merly a resident among them — with views and hopes similar to their own. In this retirement from the middle of 1798, our artist remained somewhat more than a year. By one who " lived solely in his art," it will not be supposed that this interval passed unimproved, or un- marked by advancement in those exercises which were chiefly congenial to his mind. LIFE OF CANOVA. 373 Painting, in which, under Mirigardi, as al- ready mentioned, he had early made pro- gress, and for which the intimate friend- ship of Hamilton ' had latterly cherished his prepossessions, as well as improved his taste, occupied during this period of re- treat undivided attention. This may be deemed, then, the proper place to intro- duce a short review of Canova's principal labours in the sister art ; whence it will appear how far we are to credit the asser- tions so boldly urged, that as a painter he was totally unsuccessful. The earliest pro- duction of his pencil, which here merits at- tention, is a picture of a sleeping Adonis, stretched on a rich couch, " in atto dolcis- s'mio di dormire" which was finished soon after the group of Theseus and the Mino- taur. In 1792 he painted that beautiful Venus, which remained so long unacknow- ledged by the ingenious artist, and whose tints, as witnessed by Tadini, caused it to 1 " L'amicizia stretissima ch' ebbe con PHamilton, gliene accrebbe il genio al trasporto," — speaking of painting. Falier — Letter of Canova, 10th Nov. 1792. 374 LIFE OF CANOVA. be regarded come di mano del Tiziano ! ." This resemblance, which deceived even the most practised observers, was still farther aided by an ingenious artifice. In the or- naments and accessories, which seemed to have been carefully re-touched by some more recent hand, slight cracks and other effects of time were skilfully imitated. Another Venus reposing, and surprised by a Faun, has also great beauty of form united to splendid colouring. The broad and masterly style of Giorgione was also a peculiar favourite with our sculptor ; and in one instance, he so closely imitated this manner, that having executed the piece in private, it passed for more than a year as an original of Giorgione, till its real author voluntarily disclosed the secret. In the same gusto there are also several other performances extant, such as the heads of a warrior, and of an old man, as also his own likeness, in mezzo busto, 1 Le Sculture, e le Pitture di Antonio Canova. This pleasing work, in prose and verse, describes those works executed before 1796. LIFE OF CANOVA. 375 dressed in black alia francese, with many other minor works, to enumerate which, would be irrelevant here l . It may how- ever be requisite to give a more detailed account of the capo-lavoro of Canova in this department of art. This picture, in which the figures are of the natural size, represents the dead body of the Saviour just removed from the cross, lying pale and discoloured on a bed, surrounded by the three Marys, the beloved disciple, Joseph of Arimathea, and rather in the back ground, Nicodemus. These all la- ment the same catastrophe, are occupied with the same mournful object, but each in a different attitude, and with appropri- ate expression. Above this admirable composition, which thus combines unity of action with variety of effect, appears 1 Such is the portrait of his own Mother — that of the Abbate Tonello of Treviso — a Magdalen for Count Roberti. The Counsellor Aglietti, and the Count Algarotti of Venice, are also in possession of many paintings and original designs of Canova. Cicognara states the number of his paintings to be twenty-two. They are certainly more numerous. 376 LIFE OF CANOVA. the personification of the Eternal Father, with the mystic Dove, in the centre of a celestial glory, and surrounded by a circle of Cherubs. This painting, which on its first appearance excited very general admi- ration ', was the first tribute of the artist's benevolence to the Parochial Church of Possagno, where it was placed on the 4th of May 1800. However valuable the pre- sent now described, it merely formed the earliest instance of that generous munifi- cence, which, as we shall afterwards see, converted this humble edifice into a splen- did temple. These notices, which might have been much more extended, sufficiently establish the object in view ; and while they are ne- cessarily introduced as illustrative of his 1 For descriptions of this picture, and accounts of the effects which its beauties produced on the public, see Mem. dell Ateneo di Treviso, torn. iii. (Cicognara) Giornale sulle Science e Lettere delle provincie Ve- nete (Albrizzi). Ibid. No. 7, (Para via). Viaggio Pit- torico per la provincia Triviciana. Canova retouched this painting in 1821 : its height is 28 palms,— about 20 feet. LIFE OF CANOVA. 377 life and habits, the facts prove that Canova, cultivating the art more as an accomplish- ment, than with serious intentions of ex- celling, was therefore not a great painter, only because he ranks among the first of sculptors. — This temporary, but not indo- lent obscurity having passed away, affairs in the Holy See assuming a more settled aspect, we return with our artist to Rome ; where a still more brilliant career than that hitherto traced, awaited his now ma- tured genius. But as his health had suffer- ed severely from continued application, he resolved, in the first instance, to embrace an opportunity now presented, of making a tour, during a few months, through part of Germany : Accordingly, in company with the Prince Rezzonico, he visited first Vienna, and afterwards Berlin. This jour- ney proved highly beneficial, and enabled him with renewed vigour to recommence his labours. 378 LIFE OF CANOVA. CHAPTER VII. Full establishment of Canova's reputation — General classification of his works — Anecdotes and descrip- tion of the principal statues of the first class — Per- seus — Napoleon — Boxers — Hercules and Lychas, &c. — Remarks on the chief groups and figures of the second class — Venus — the Graces — the sitting Figures, &c. — Monuments composing the third class — of Maria Christina — of Alfieri — Cenotaphs, &c. — Bassi Relievi — Reflections on the studies of Canova. An preceding chapters, it has been the great object of endeavour to exhibit in complete development circumstances and events best calculated to unfold the powers, illustrate the character, or explain the modes of study which peculiarly distin- guished the individual. With intentions thus directed to render an exclusive bio- graphy generally useful as well as inte- resting, the path of Canova's life has now been closely followed, from the first dawn- ings of intellectual vigour to the full ma- LIFE OF CANOVA. 379 turity of mental strength. The latter era commences with the opening of the nine- teenth century ; and from this period is to be dated the establishment of Canova on that throne, till then vacant since the death of Michael Angelo. With this epoch, al- so, begins an uninterrupted series of the most splendid labours maintaining this su- premacy, and constituting the leading oc- currences of more than twenty years, pass- ed in unceasing but not eventful activity. To describe in detail each of these pro- ductions, for reasons already urged, would be impracticable here; it may even be questioned how far such isolated relations would tend to afford just conceptions of the characteristic properties of his style of art, or enable to trace with fidelity the master features in the genius of the artist. These objects will be best accomplished, and even a more distinct knowledge of the works attained, by arranging the latter un- der separate classes. In pursuing this me- thod, slight deviations only need be made from the chronological order ; while under 380 LIFE OF CANOVA. each division will be introduced such sub- jects as seem, from their intrinsic impor- tance, or from the anecdotes connected with them, best adapted to attain the ends in view. The sculptures of Canova, then, may be distributed into three distinct orders ; i. Heroic compositions. ii. Compositions of grace and elegance. in. Sepulchral monuments, and relievos. The first and second of these divisions will be found, in some instances, to gra- duate into each other, — yet the distinction is sufficiently accurate for the purposes of simple arrangement. The third class is composed of two apparently separate spe- cies ; but the description of monumental erections, the greater proportion of which is in that style, naturally leads to the men- tion of relievos in general. i. Rome still mourned her naked gal- leries and plundered museums, from which the statues of antiquity, with other treasures of art, had been borne away, leaving to LIFE OF CANOVA. 381 Italians, says one of their historians, " il lutto delta privazione, e la vergogna di non averle defesi" " the grief of privation, and the shame of not having defended them." In this state of affairs, almost im- mediately after the return of the sculptor from his short and voluntary banishment, appeared the Perseus of Canova: " A work," continues the author just quoted, " which convinced the world, that though the Italians might be despoiled of life and substance, though those monuments which adorned it might be torn from the soil, the taste for the fine arts inherent there, and the only resource of the unhappy coun- try, could not be destroyed." This statue, the first in the purely heroic style attempt- ed by the artist, was originally sculptured for Bossi, a celebrated painter and profes- sor of Milan \ So remarkable, however, 1 Giuseppe Bossi was equally distinguished in lite- rature and in the arts. From a defect of vision, his colouring was too red ; but his style of design is noble and correct. He studied carefully every excellence which remained of former masters, in marble, in me- 382 LIFE OF CANOVA. were the grandeur and beauty of this truly classical production, that the Papal govern- ment forbade its removal from their capi- tal ; and though the finances of a state once so rich, were in such a dilapidated condition, that there was now some diffi- culty experienced in paying for a work of art the price already given by an indivi- dual, yet the Sacred College determined on the purchase. These prior claims were conceded ; and the Perseus, by a public decree, was placed in one of the stanze of the Vatican, hitherto exclusively reserved for the most precious works of antiquity. How much Rome rejoiced in this acquisi- tion sufficiently appears from the publica- tions of the time. The mournful looks di- rected to the vacant pedestal of the Apollo, brightened with proud consciousness as they rested on the not unworthy successor tal, or in painting, with which to enrich his discoveries and to instruct youth. In the latter he was most emi- nently successful. His writings on the biography of native arts are much esteemed. Bossi, Appiain, and a few other eminent artists, added splendour to the short-lived glory of the Cisalpine republic. LIFE OF CANOVA. 383 of that noblest effort of Grecian genius. Hence, among those buoni Italian^ who judged from merit, unbiassed by envy or prejudice, the Perseus was generally dis- tinguished under the appellation of il con- solatore, or the " consoler." In this work the moment of representa- tion has been selected when the hero, in sign of victory, triumphantly displays the frightful head of the " snaky Gorgon," while the right hand still grasps a sword of singular device, the instrument of con- quest. On the head is an helmet bearing some resemblance to a Phrygian cap, while rich sandals cover the feet ; in other respects the form is entirely naked, with the excep- tion of loose drapery, which falling from the left arm, flows behind to the ground, ser- ving as a support, and adding effect to the figure, as well as removing the harshness that would be produced by a naked arm extended at nearly right angles with the body. To these accessories many objec- tions were made, the casque and sword be- ing deemed of a shape not warranted by 384 LIFE OF CANOVA. classical authority. To these criticisms Canova, as usual, made no reply ; but the following explanation, written by himself, was suspended in his studio, where this statue was first exhibited to the public ; a notice which completely silenced every de- tractor, and is npt less honourable to the author's knowledge of antiquity, than to the careful research employed to preserve fidelity in even the most minute details \ " Perseo filio di Giove e di Danae venendo speditodal Re Polidite contro le Gorgone, vuolsi che recivesse da Mercurio, il quale particolarmente lo amava, i talari e le ali, ch' egli poi mise sopra quest' elmo dato gli da Plutone, si prodigioso che rendeva invincible chiunque lo portava. Quest' elmo da parecchi autori vien fatto simile al beretto Frigio, con due orecchie ; e tale punto osservasi in una Pallade, (ch' esiste- 1 When in the journals of travellers we are still fa- voured with similar objections, we must certainly ad- mire the ingenuity of those who contrive to write on subjects with which they prove themselves to be so little acquainted. LIFE OF CANOVA. 385 va nel gabinetto del Card. Gualtieri) per- che anche la dea voile servirne in parecchie occasioni. Da Vulcano pretendesi ancora che avesse una falce di diamante, colla quale egli potesse recidere il capo alia Gor- gone Medusa. La forma di quest' arma a punta ed uncino incontrasi in varii mo- numenti ; ed Omero ed altri autori l'appel- lano propriamente arpe : dal qual termine spiegar volendo la forza. Suidagli appro- prio il nome Greco Loncodrepano, che vale a dire coltello-puntato-falcato '." C. — 1 The substance of the above advertisement may be thus rendered : Perseus having engaged to bring the heart of Medusa, (the only one of the Gorgon sisters who was mortal,) to King Polydectus, received wings from Mercury which he fitted to the helmet given him by Pluto. This helmet, as appears from several authors, was in shape like a Phrygian cap, with two ears ; and, in fact, is to be seen of that form on a Mi- nerva, in the collection of Card. Gualtieri, the godde s ha ng made use of the same on different occasions. From Vulcan the hero also received a sword of diamond; this weapon, with a point and hook, (on one edge,) is to be met with on various monuments. Homer and other authors call it harpe, a term implying force. 2b 386 LIFE OF CANOVA. That the government of a country where his talents alone had naturalized him, should publicly interpose to prevent the exportation of his works, — that even in a time of general distress, it should repay the stipulated price, — that by a sovereign de- cree this valued performance should be pronounced worthy of an asylum hitherto denied to modern art, must have furnished matter of proud triumph to Canova. These were honours surpassed only by the renown of Glycon and of Praxiteles, of Scophas or of Phidias, when Kings and Republics strove for the glory of purchasing a single statue. At the same time, this success, however justly merited, which at the age of forty- three exalted him above all competitors, tended still more to exasperate the hosti- lity of rivals and of enemies. According- ly, while the general approbation, not to say enthusiasm excited by this production, almost equalled a sentence of posterity Suidas names it, from the Greek, Loncodrepanon* that is to say, a duyyer pointed and hooked. LIFE OF CANOVA. 387 in its favour ; in the various dissertations which its appearance called forth, this work has been more frequently selected as a sub- ject of censure than of praise. To the ob- jections of prejudice — that it was a species of profanation to place the labours of a liv- ing master on a level with those of the an- cients, the remark of the artist to his pri- vate friends affords the best reply : " It has been thought proper, by those who have a right to dispose of it as they may, that the Perseus should be removed to the Vatican ; — for me to have interfered in this matter, would have displayed scarcely less arrogance, than if I had in- sisted on its occupying the deserted pedes- tal of the Apollo." The spirit of much professional criticism, however, is more ju- dicious, as also less easily obviated. The beauty and perfection of the forms, consi- dered without reference to the higher aims of art, were universally allowed ; but it has been urged, that, in originality of invention, as in unity of character, there were great deficiencies. The design of the Perseus is 2b 2 388 LIFE OF CANOVA. obviously copied from that of the Apollo* nay the dissimilarity of action is evidently studied, as if with the intention of obtain- ing diversity, or of concealing imitation. Again, in respect to propriety of character, this statue, it was said, presented the irre- concilable union of a divinity and of a he- ro, as they are realized in the works of an- cient masters ; and that it must be regard- ed " un Apollo coi tratti di un guerriero" as an Apollo with the traits of a warrior. Of this latter objection, the practice of anti- quity itself perhaps supplies the best refu- tation ; since in compositions of antique sculpture, a similar combination of soft or almost luxurious beauty, with an expres- sion and action of athletic vigour, may fre- quently be remarked \ But while criti- 1 As in the statues of Bacchus, and even in those of Apollo ; " for why," as has been judiciously asked, " may not a Perseus and an Apollo in similar modes of action resemble ?" — " Perche Apollo saettatore del serpente, e Perseo vincitore della Gorgone, non pos- sono aver lo stesso carattere." In the Museum of the capital also is a basso relievo of a Perseus the size of nature, which might easily be mistaken for an Apollo. LIFE OFCANOVA. 389 cism was thus estimating the work by ab- stract precepts of excellence, the more practical science of the artist detected irre- gularities overlooked by theory. In a long course of observation, Canova had himself discovered various defects in the muscles and divisions of the abdomen, which once more applying the chisel to the marble, he rectified only a few years previous to his decease. The colossal statue of Napoleon^ though, as regards the countenance, the portrait of an individual, strictly belongs to the heroic and ideal class. Like the ancient masters of the world, the former Ruler of France and of Italy is represented naked, the mili- tary clamys being merely pendant from his left arm. This is elevated above the head in a graceful curve, the hand grasping a long sceptre, while the right supports a globe surmounted by a winged victory — the symbol of empire, as borne by the Olympian Jupiter of Phidias. (i Napoleon," remarks an Italian writer, " thus sculptured by Canova, was presented to the British 390 LIFE OF CANOVA. Government by the French King ; it was curious to see the statue of that formidable man, who, to the moment when he ceased to reign, had kept these two renowned and powerful nations in open war, thus become a pledge of mutual concord, solely because the work of the first artist of the age \" The idea of the action seems to have been derived from an antique in the Flo- rentine gallery, with this difference, that in the latter the movement is completed, whereas the very act of advancing is here represented — the left foot being raised, the right firmly planted, and the body not yet fully thrown forward, gravitating equal- ly on both. An unfinished action is fre- quent in the works of this master, and in 1 Paravia. This statue was subsequently presented by Government to the Duke of Wellington, in whose house in Piccadilly it now stands — below a stair, where it not only cannot be seen to any advantage, but where it is exposed to all manner of accidents. This note may enlighten the ignorance of Sig. P. A. Paravia, who with great naivete confesses, " Come Londra fu lieta per Pacquista di si stupenda statua non so dire." Lon- don knew little about the matter. LIFE OF CANOVA. 391 the present instance produces a most live- ly effect : we almost expect to behold the anticipated motion of the majestic form. The whole composition indeed presents a series of excellences in the minor elegances of detail, no less than in the highest and noblest beauties of art. In the counte- nance, which once bore a strong resem- blance to the living original, little of ima- ginative elevation being added, we trace the lineaments of one who belongs not to the ordinary race of men ' ; while the looks fixed on the emblem of dominion well ac- cord with the animated attitude. w Why on the mimic orb grasp'd in thy hand, Still dwell thy stern regards ? — seek'st thou a land Through thy ambition not yet drench'd in blood, Or stream — or sea with unpolluted flood ? Thy eagle-banner long by war unfurl'd Triumphant floats o'er more than half the world ; Shall then a future age, alien to peace, Pray — vainly pray to see thy conquests cease ? No — unequal to thy greatness, thou shalt fall Vanquish'd, and exil'd, and bereft of all ; 1 Bonaparte by obesity soon lost the noble traits of countenance which will live in Canova's statue. 392 LIFE OF CANOVA. From violated rights disaster springs, Their people's love secures the throne of Kings \" Though this statue was not finished till six years after, the bust was carefully mo- delled from the life in 1802-3 ; Canova, at the personal request of the First Consul, undertaking a journey to Paris for that pur- pose. On this occasion, during his whole stay in that capital, he was entertained with munificence, and various honours conferred upon him. Nor was this all ; the selfish but dazzling ambition of Napo- leon meditated an empire over the minds, no less than over the liberties of men, and he wished to adorn, or to conceal his reign by the splendours of art, and the refine- ments of science. In the sculptor of Pos- sagno, he beheld one pre-eminently quali- fied to forward these designs ; no means, 1 Ma a che sull'orbe, onde la mano hai grave Fisi lo sguardo ? Forse cerchi arene Non violate," &c. Carme alia Statua di Napoleone. XIV. of Missirini, p. Ill, &c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 393 therefore, were left unemployed to in- duce the accomplished artist to exchange the shores of the Tiber for the banks of the Seine. But the most flattering distinc- tions, the most splendid prospects, and promises renewed even at a subsequent pe- riod, were alike unavailing; Canova remain- ed faithful to Italy and to his own sove- reign, the late Pius VIL, who early in his Pontificate, even before that exile, so dis- graceful to the French ruler, had begun to honour him with distinguished friendship. The Consul, however, had the generosity to overlook this determined refusal ; and the recusant was dismissed loaded with favours. Canova had little ambition beyond his own art. A residence in Paris could give no- thing in this respect which Rome could not afford ; while the opposition which he fore- saw must be encountered in the former, where the fame and interests of a stranger would generally be withstood, doubtless exerted considerable influence in the rejec- tion of these offers. He also disliked the taste of that nation as regards the fine arts. 394 LIFE OF CANOVA. " They are not inspired," he used to say, speaking of the French, and to confidential friends, " with genuine love of art : it is merely a love of display. In the compo- sition of his piece, the artist is more soli- citous to exhibit his own talents than to represent simple truth ; — in purchasing it, the patron is equally desirous of displaying himself. Even their national gallery is dis- play, where the noblest works are prized, not as triumphs of genius, but as trophies of conquest I ." Various and highly interesting conver- sations were maintained between Napoleon and Canova, during the abode of the latter in Paris. The substance of these dialogues, so full of interest from the celebrity of the speakers, is still preserved, having been noted at the time by the step-brother of the artist, by whom he was constantly at- tended. Buonaparte, himself a man of consummate abilities, delighted in the con- verse of men of genius, to whose frankness 1 Falier — Paravia — Cicognara — Federici — Letters of Canova — Private correspondence of the author, &c. LfFE OF CANOVA. 395 and independence he permitted liberties of speech unpardonable in any of his mere courtiers. Our ingenuous artist was not one to suffer the privilege of fearlessly de- claring the truth, or of pleading the cause of the oppressed, to remain unclaimed. A lover of peace from humanity of disposi- tion, while he possessed the almost uni- versal temperament of high intellect — an attachment to liberty, he seized every op- portunity of appealing in favour of both ; more especially he insisted, with amiable enthusiasm, on the past glory of Italy, and on the expediency — the justice of restoring her to independence. In such political conversations, we must admire the pru- dence and sagacity conspicuous in his con- duct. These were always introduced by Napoleon, Canova seeming merely to al- low his replies to be elicited ; for he pos- sessed too much good sense to obtrude his opinion in matters of which, from previous habits and pursuits, the extent of his know- ledge might be questioned. Unwelcome truths thus came with greater propriety 396 LIFE OF CANOVA. from one who had no interest to forward — no vanity to gratify in declaring them, and acquired additional weight as they were in part unexpected. His auditor, struck by the novelty or veracity of some remark, would often stop him for some moments, then motion to proceed, muttering, half a- side, " Buono, buonissimo, non siete solamente scultore ;" — " Good, very good, that is not the saying of a mere sculptor." It was not, however, always with calmness that Buonaparte at such times listened to ob- servations which went near to implicate the integrity of his actions, or the humanity of his views. " Come /" " how !" he would exclaim, " Citizen Canova, parlate senza tema" — " you speak without fear :" — " Parlo da uom sincero" — " I speak with- out flattery," was the laconic and unper- turbed reply. These conversations chiefly took place while the Consul sat for his bust. On one of these occasions the first sketch of the intended statue was shewn to him ; not seeing in this design any arms among the accessories, " How is this," said he, LIFE OF CANOVA. 397 playfully addressing the artist, " Citizen Canova, there must be a plot against me, — you have left me without defence." — " No, Sire," replied the sculptor, pointing out the parazonium suspended on the trunk which supports the figure, " I have only hung up the sheathed sword, in sign of that peace, to which the wishes of all good men have long inclined." Buonaparte was distinguished above most men by felicity in discerning the peculiar talents of others, and by address in elicit- ing from their acquirements useful intelli- gence. With a great artist, therefore, he would not, as may be supposed, constantly talk of politics. The best modes of em- bellishing the capital — the measures most effective in promoting the fine arts — the proper arrangement of a national gallery, formed the frequent subject of their dis- course. On all of these points Canova was capable of giving new and valuable infor- mation, and on each he freely communi- cated his thoughts ; the last, indeed, often 398 LIFE OF CANOVA. led to animated expression of feeling. Too zealous for the honour of his country, as also too ardent an admirer of antiquity, not to lament the removal of those wonders of art which had so long adorned the clime and inspired the genius of Italy, — he was too ingenuous to conceal his indignant sen- timents, even from the man whose power had sanctioned that outrage. Thus, by the particular desire of Napoleon, he exa- mined the Musee of the Louvre, for the purpose of ascertaining what improvements could be effected in the disposition of those chef-d'ceuvres, which had recently been transported from their former sites to that superb collection. Being then asked by the Consul, " Whether they were not judi- ciously arranged," he answered with ad- mirable brevity, " certo stavano meglio in Italia" — " they certainly were better placed in Italy." In France, under the revolutionary and imperial systems, the causes which influen- ced the fate of the arts seem to have been altogether political, — or even originating LIFE OF CANOVA. 399 in the desire of personal aggrandisement, than springing from the primary objects of national advantage, and the general im- provements of taste. Whether as Consul or Emperor, the founder of the late dynas- ty encouraged painting, sculpture, and also architecture, as means of throwing around his administration a splendour which daz- zled the minds of beholders, and prevent- ed a too close inspection of their own condition. Canova used to represent him as possessing little original refinement, and not much acquired knowledge in the arts. But his designs connected with these were traced on the same magnificent scale which distinguished all his operations; while in carrying these plans into effect, he selected with acute and unbiassed judgment the most enlightened conductors. With their determination as regarded the details he never interfered. They were subsequently left to the free exercise of their skill, with the comprehensive mandate, " Faire le meilleur, et a la maniere la plus grande" Of Josephine, on the contrary, our artist 400 LIFE OF CANOVA* spoke with deference, and even in a man- ner approaching to the affectionate. He described her as endowed with great de- licacy of taste, — as one delighting from in- clination in the beautiful and the elegant, and whose decisions on these qualities, de- rived from native discernment, were rarely erroneous. As a proof of this, it may be remarked, that many of the most graceful of this sculptor's productions, — the two groups of Cupid and Psyche — the Paris — the Graces, &c, were either originally com- missioned, or subsequently obtained by Josephine. — The statues of Paris and of Palamedes present the same elevated style, with an expression of greater repose than either of the preceding. The former is re- garded as one of the most perfect works of the artist, combining the simplicity of na- ture with the grandeur of the ideal. Stand- ing in an easy and graceful attitude — his looks attentively bent on some object near, the Shepherd of Ida seems still to gaze undecided on the beauties of the rival di- vinities. The fatal apple, yet un appro- LIFE OF CANOVA, 401 priated, is held in the right hand, while the left is raised to the head, the arm rest- ing against a trunk, on which is suspended a drapery elegantly disposed, as if just laid aside. This statue was sent to France in 1813, on which occasion, one of the most competent judges in that capital, where the fame of Canova ever experienced the most marked opposition, has described it as pos- sessing the highest excellences in compo- sition, character, and execution — thus con- cluding, " Be assured my commendations are brought to a close, only because words are wanting to convey what I feel '•" As respects appropriate expression, and the graces of elegant action, this figure merits all that has been said ; but however hazar- 1 Letter of M. Quatremere du Quincy to Count Cicognara, Paris, 27th Feb. 1813. The Count has designated Paris as the place " dove Canova aveva il maggior numero di invidiosi della sua gloria ;" an as- sertion which he has subsequently qualified; but it is certain the French artists betrayed great jealousy of the talents of Canova, and of the attentions paid him by Buonaparte: his works, also, were severely criti- cized in the French journals, &c. 2 c 402 LIFE OF CANOVA. dous to oppose the voice of almost univer- sal praise, the proportions may be deemed not entirely symmetrical, while the whole conception bears very marked traces of in- dividuality. Canova has generally represented his personages engaged in some external event, or animated by passing emotion. To this practice the Palamedes is an exception ; the attitude, erect and firm, is yet one of entire repose, and the countenance exhi- bits the calm of mental tranquillity. With this production as a whole, the artist is said to have remained unsatisfied, esteeming the flanks and the gluteal muscles too feeble ; but while the superlative beauty of the head — the bust — the lower extre- mities, is obvious, few eyes can detect this alleged deficiency ; and the Palamedes wiH be ranked among the works which most nearly approach those Grecian models, where the ideal of physical and of moral beauty is pourtrayed in the majesty of cor- poreal and intellectual serenity. This sta- tue is connected with a circumstance which LIFE OF CANOVA. 403 nearly proved fatal to the sculptor. It was the constant practice of the latter, ri- gidly to investigate every part before final- ly dispatching any work : whilst thus em- ployed, the supports suddenly gave way, the colossal mass was precipitated to the ground, fractured into several pieces, and he himself narrowly escaped being crushed beneath the weight. Of this accident, the owner was immediately ad- vertised, — the artist, with his accustomed disinterestedness, insisting on retaining the fragments, and commencing on a fresh block. This, from similar feelings of libe- rality, was opposed ; and the statue, skil- fully reunited, by the visible effects of its misfortune, only the more resembles an antique \ 1 These anecdotes were related to the author by the accomplished owner himself, the Marquis Sommariva, while examining the statue in question, in his beautiful villa on the lake of Como, where it now remains. The circumstance of the figure falling is thus alluded to by a living poet, with felicitous epigrammatic effect : — " Tu sei, crudele invida morte, Che al suol lo traggi dalP eburneo scanno Che redivivo lo credesti ancora !" 2 c 2 404 LIFE OF CANOVA. For the space of more than two centu- ries, no modern had been able to arouse the slumbering powers of sculpture to the creation of those mighty forms, or to the delineation of those fierce passions which approach the terrible in art — when Ca~ nova, in 1802, presented to Italy the cele- brated group of Creugas and Damoxenus. These combatants, after contending during a whole day at the Nemean games inef- fectually for the pugilistic crown, agreed each to receive a blow without defence, and thus to decide the victory. The for- mer, to whom the lot assigned to give the first blow, struck his opponent on the front ; but the latter, with more deadly pur- pose, required his adversary, placing the left hand on his head, to expose the side. In this position Creugas is represented, while Damoxenus stands in the attitude of one who collects all his strength to launch a mortal stroke ; and so forcibly is the at- tention aroused to the inevitable danger of the one, and the brutal fury of the other, that we anticipate the fatal consequences LIFE OF CANOVA. 405 ' — we expect to hear the blow — we behold the ruptured side — the bleeding entrails — listen to the ferocious exultation of the conqueror, and the execrations of the spec- tators \ In whatever light these figures are re- garded, whether in relation to techni- cal skill, propriety and justness of expres- sion, or impressive and characteristic ef- fect, they will without doubt rank among the most wonderful productions of the chisel. Combining extraordinary power with great agility, they yet present nothing forced, exaggerated, or inconsistent, but all 1 See Pausanias, Arcadia. The artist has closely followed the historian, whose details are given in the text, because nothing is more usual than to hear ob- jections made to this group, that the attitude of Creu- gas is altogether contrary to science. This only shews the ignorance of the objectors ; the action, indeed, lays open, instead of protecting the body ; but to those acquainted with the circumstances, this is the obvious intention of the sculptor. The atrocity of Damoxenus overreached itself; according to a law regulating these combats, which forbade the killing of an adversary, he was banished, and the crown placed on the head of the slain Creugas. 406 LIFE OF CANOVA, k true, simple, and harmonious. Without ideal elevation of form, a refinement irre- concilable with the subject, and opposed to the practice of antiquity, they exhibit the most faithful imitation of nature, un- der attitudes calculated to elicit, though seeming to conceal the resources of art. The position of Damoxenus, in particular, would throw in the way of mediocrity in- surmountable obstacles, and even to Ca- nova occasioned many difficulties. The figure, retiring as it were within itself — the concentration of power — the contraction of the muscles — the movement of the arms ', and of the lower extremities, in uni- 1 A celebrated artist has found fault with the right hand, as not being adapted, by its perpendicular posi- tion, to penetrate between the ribs of his opponent. Let any one, however, try to draw back the arm, bent so that the hand, extended and horizontal, may be brought in contact with the side, a little below the bo- som, and he will find that the position is not only un- natural, but is unfriendly to giving a powerful blow. On the contrary, as placed by Cnnova, perpendicular- ly with the open palm on the side, will be found not only the most easy, but the position best calculated for LIFE OF CANOVA. 107 son with this confined position, yet retain- ing an appearance of agility to press for- ward and second the meditated blow — the oblique withdrawing of the head — all re- quired the most consummate anatomical science, while a natural tendency to the rigid powerless and ungraceful was incur- red ; but here all is bold, vigorous and flowing, the contours preserving firmness and breadth, with that sweetness and deli- cacy, which ought never to be disjoined even from a style the most masculine and severe. To that of his adversary the ex- panded and fearless attitude of Creugas af- fords a fine contrast ; his form, also, though not of such Herculean mould, is more elegant, and his whole appearance more noble, without being less manly. The ex- pression of the latter is likewise more gen- tle, though the arm thrown up with an air of defiance, and the unguarded side present- ed with a look of indignant consciousness, effect, the hand being naturally thrown into the hori- zontal by the action of the muscles, when the arm is extended in striking. See Williams' Travels, &c. 408 LIFE OF CANOVA. that the intentions of his adversary are as sanguinary as his countenance indicates. By thus distinguishing Creugas by more amiable and elevated traits, the artist has skilfully invested his situation with a deep dramatic interest, which powerfully awakens sympathy in his fate. There is to be observed in this figure a profound intelligence of nature, with a felicitous expression of that knowledge, in the in- voluntary position of defence, and in the unconscious knitting of the muscles, which may be pronounced at least unsurpassed in the most esteemed works of antiquity. But on this subject it will be gratifying to peruse the sculptor's own explanation, sent along with a model of the statue, to the Venetian Academy: — " This pugilist, in sign of having given his blow, has thrown down the gauntlets, with which the hands of his adversary Damoxenus still remain armed, who stands in act of returning the assault according to compact. The atti- tude in which the former is represented, his attack being just over, was chosen by LIFE OF CANOVA. 409 me in order to denote that he was an athleta. To the habits of his profession it would not be agreeable that he should remain tranquil and indifferent at the mo- ment of being assaulted by his competitor. At the same time, also, though he knows that he must sustain without opposition the blow agreed upon, yet Nature, of her own accord, does not fail to suggest to him a certain undefined clenching of the hands and position of apparent defence. This posture I likewise considered favourable to the general lines of the naked ; and thus with firm and stedfast foot, with raised arm, side exposed, and head erect, he might await, whilst lie also favoured the barbarous stroke of his enemy, who would have had no field for planting it, if Creugas had presented himself in any attitude more weak and relaxed I ." Together with this 1 This admirable exposition ought for ever to set at rest the objections made in the first instance by the Venetian artists, and since frequently repeated, " that Creugas was apparently as much on the offensive as the defensive." Some critics even seem not to have 410 LIFE OF CANOVA. analysis of the statue was sent the follow- ing letter, honourable alike to the grateful feelings of the writer, as to the body thus addressed : — " Era da gran tempo ch' io desiderava ofFerire alcun saggio de' miei studj a co- desta spettabile Accademia di belle arti, in contrassegno della sincera stima e figliale riconoscenza, che le professo per avermi somministrato li primi elementi dell' arte, e con atto di sua predelezione, creato mem- bro dagli anni miei piu giovanile. A tal giusto mio desiderio, non potei dare piu sollecito compimento, occupato come fui parecchi anni in opere, le quale non mi lasciarono loco ad eseguire a mio genio qualche lavoro di carattere robusto. A- vendo pertanto in questi ultimi anni avuto alcun' agio di soddisfare in parte a questa mia volonta, ho il piacere di presentare a codesta spettabile Societa il presente gesso della statua d'un mio pugillatore, poc' ansi finita, giacche costa non si era per anco observed the hands bared of the gauntlets, which arc represented on the ground. LIFE OF CANOVA. 411 veduta alcuna mia opera di simile carat- tere ; gesso, che appunto per questo puo forse aver maggior convenienza di venire situato in un* Academia. Amarei dtinque che mi onorassero sopra di esso del loro ingenuo sentimento, per assicurarmi se la via da mi tenuta, nell' intendere la verita, sappia meritarsi la loro approvazione. Con si lusenghevole idea ch' e appunto Tunica nel cammin della gloria, a cui ten- dono le nostre fatiche, pieno di profondo respetto, gratitudine e considerazione mi protesto. " Antonto Canova '. " Roma, prima Maggio 1802." The group now described, finished soon after the Perseus, was, like that work, pur- 1 In this letter Canova expresses " his sincere esteem and filial gratitude to that Academy which had supplied the first elements of art, and of which he had been admitted a member from his earliest years ; and further requests to be honoured with the opinion of the honourable Body, whether the path now pursued by him merits that approbation, to secure which is the great object of his labours." 412 LIFE OF CANOVA. chased by the Papal Government, and placed in the Vatican. The Conqueror of Medusa, and these Combatants, one on each side, as the three figures now stand in the same cabinet of the most valuable museum in the world, present excellences so great, and of a character so diversified, as would alone be sufficient to preserve through the revolution of ages the name of the sculp- tor. Yet, compared with the mighty se- ries of his labours, how small a portion do these compose ? On this occasion, the artist received from the hands of the Pontiff, in- vestiture in the two Roman orders of knighthood, and was farther nominated " Inspector-General of the Fine Arts in Rome and the whole Pontifical States, with an annual pension of 400 crowns ;" — an office, as now revived by Pius VII. in favour of Canova, not surpassed in the splendour of its first institution by Leo X., when conferred on Raffaelle *. 1 The diploma, creating him Inspector, dated 10th August 1802, was published immediately after, and may be seen in the " Memorie Trivigiane,** p. 220. LIFE OF CANOVA. 413 Under the inspiration awakened by the contemplation of those wonders of Grecian art which once adorned the Athenian tem- ples, then known only through the designs of Stuart, but which now constitute the boast of our own capital, the combat of Theseus and the Centaur was imagined. This colossal group offers to view an action the most energetic, with corresponding vi- gour and sublimity of style and execution. The hero with one knee presses the monster to the earth, holding in deadly grasp its throat with his left hand, while with the right wielding a massive club, he is about to terminate the conflict by a decisive blow. In this composition the arrangement is pe- culiarly beautiful ; — the master-lines are varied, flowing, and fully developed ; — the attitudes and expressions powerfully con- trasted ; — and the eye is delighted by the facility with which it embraces and com- In paying a just tribute to the talents of Canova in this official instrument, Pius has left a striking proof of his own good taste, by receding from common-place forms in expressing this applause. 414 LIFE OF CANOVA. prehends the simple pyramidal grouping of the whole. The moral sentiment, also, the superiority of knowledge — of virtue over brutal strength, is well preserved ; — all is yet teeming with life and energy ; but the noble and triumphant air of The- seus — his powerful and vigorous frame — his advantageous position, leave no doubt of victory, while the last efforts of his foe preserve sufficient animation to add the interest, and the sublimity of danger. Minuter criticism discovers much indivi- dual excellence in the skilful union of ma- jesty with strength and agility in the form of Theseus — the exquisite character and lovely contours of the head — the truth and wonderful detail of the extremities. In the Centaur, the head is a perfect model of a peculiar and characteristic beauty, not the less to be admired as a happy adapta- tion from the antique ; — the relaxing grasp of the monster's right hand is nature it- self; — but, above all, the springing and al- most living exertion of the posterior limbs in struggling to regain an erect posture, LIFE OF CANOVA. 415 is the very perfection of art. To at- tain this fidelity, the artist is said to have made repeated studies from nature, press- ing the living horse to the ground by ex- ternal violence ' : Antiquity, indeed, could afford little assistance, for the most com- plete of its equestrian remains is here surpassed. By this close investigation we also discover, or imagine we perceive some blemishes. In the Theseus, the lower re- gion of the abdomen seems to be too pro- tuberant, making the requisite allowance for the violence of his action. Perhaps, al- so, the lower limbs are too athletic as com- pared with the general proportions of the figure, more especially of the upper part of the torso. In the Centaur, that por- tion of the form which bears the resem- blance of humanity, appears too diminutive in relation to the monster part to which it is attached. A being thus constituted, however, as it is wholly the creation of fancy, so the will of the artist becomes 1 Cicognara, Storia dell Scult. torn. iii. 416 LIFE OF CANOVA. more despotic from the absence of fixed principles, and the impossibility of a direct comparison with nature. This group, modelled in 1805, was not finally completed till fourteen years after- wards. Its original destination was the city of Milan, but it is now at Vienna. A Venetian nobleman, iri other respects a judicious and independent writer, in- forms us, that this change of situation was made at the request of the Emperor to the sculptor, and with the consent of all concerned. An artist has not commonly the disposal of such works as are already commissioned; but the meaning of this courtly phrase is sufficiently obvious — Ve- nice is under the dominion of Austria. The transaction, however, did not give uni- versal satisfaction ; — the Milanese regret this among other losses which their capi- tal has sustained from the Germans \ It is but justice to state, that Francis appears 1 Was it also with the consent of all concerned that the Mosaic copy of L. da Vinci's Ccnacolo was removed to Vienna ? LIFE OF CANOVA. 417 properly to value the work of which he has obtained possession. An elegant temple of Grecian Doric has been erected in the Royal Gardens for its reception. The presence of Canova was alone waited for, to place it in this its destined shrine, when his lamented death cut short more impor- tant avocations. This undertaking, thus acquiring a melancholy interest, has since been accomplished by less able hands *. The class of heroic compositions, though far from being exhausted, may with pro- priety be closed by the group of Hercules and Lychas, the most terrible conception of Canova's mind. Alcides, raging from the effects of Dejanira's fatal present, has already seized the hapless messenger by the hair and one of the feet ; and heaving him head-downwards over his right shoul- 1 When the Author was in Vienna, in the spring of 1823, the group had then been placed on the pedes- tal, but still remained cased in planks. By the appli- cation, however, of the proper means, he enjoyed the opportunity of examining this beautiful production. 2d 418 LIFE OF CANOVA. der, is in act of hurling him through the air into the waves below. " The burning influence shoots through every vein ; Fierce roll his eyes on CEta's shady steep ; Unhappy Lychas ! author of his pain, Thee first he seiz'd, and plung'd amid the deep '. In vain the wretched youth clings to an altar, or grasps the lion's skin ; — every re- sistance must give way ; — the imagination follows him circling through empty space, and disappearing in the distant spot, which the frenzied eye of his tormentor seems to mark out. This power of conveying ener- getic impression — the first and most im- portant quality in works of art, is com- bined with great truth and beauty of de- tail. The present, indeed, is one of the most scientific, as also one of the most dif- ficult labours of the artist. The figure of Hercules, under a different and perhaps more arduous aspect, preserves all the dignity of character and fidelity of repre- sentation which distinguish the Farncsian 1 V. of Missirini, p. 40. LIFE OF CANOVA. 419 statue ; — the force and ease of attitude — the finely pronounced action, particularly of the pectoral and abdominal muscles — the union of firmness and of elasticity in the position, and of elegance and strength in form of the lower extremities, render it a perfect canon in its peculiar range. The necessarily contorted posture of Lychas, on the other hand, being such as no living model could maintain, caused infinite trouble in the composition ; but though this representation of terror, anguish, and youthful imbecility, be the sole crea- tion of science and of imagination, it is faultless in the former, while it is devoid of mannerism, as without extravagance. The relative proportions of these two fi- gures, however, Lychas being represented too diminutive, that Hercules may appear more gigantic, seem to border on the exag- gerated. This disproportion of the agents produces a corresponding disagreement in the action. The vast power which is evi- dently exercised— the violent straining of such enormous members, does not harmo- 2 d 2 420 LIFE OF CANOVA. nize with the exility of the being against whom energies so irresistible are exerted. By this attempt to heighten them, the ef- fects of contrast are in fact partially de- stroyed, and the sublimity intended to be expressed through the idea of super- human power, is lessened by the force too conspicuously employed on an object so incapable of opposition. Either the strength of the sufferer should have ap- proached nearer to an equality with his who inflicts the pain ; — or, retaining the present dimensions of Lychas, the action of Alcides should have been less vehement. In the one case, the appearance of great exertion would have been justified, — in the other, the contrast would have been more noble. ii. In the preceding analysis of the prin- cipal statues and groups composing the first class, many of great merit, such as the Hector and Ajax — the Equestrian models — the statues of Ferdinand — of Washing- ton — of Pius VI., have been silently LIFE OF CANOVA. 421 passed over. Notwithstanding these omis- sions, this part of the subject has extended to considerable length ; it was here neces- sary, however, to introduce a greater num- ber of examples than will henceforth be requisite, both from incidents connected with these illustrative of the life, but chief- ly from a desire of doing justice to the fame of the artist. Canova, from various circumstances, is better known, and his claims to superiority more universally re- cognised, in productions embracing the softer elegances of female loveliness, than in the severe and robust forms of masculine strength. His chisel has been allowed a restricted pre-eminence in sculpturing the charms of youth or the smiles of beauty, while it has too commonly been deemed unequal to the sublimities of deeper emo- tion, or the moral dignity of mental ener- gy. To have dwelt on the proofs of this latter, and perhaps higher species of ge- nius, may therefore be esteemed not only excusable, but proper. On the contrary, the works comprehended in the second di- I 422 LIFE OF CANOVA. vision, possessing the former kind of ex- cellence, will require less to be insisted upon ; more confined notices will also suffice to illustrate a class more numerous indeed, but distinguished by kindred ex- pression, and less isolated grace. In considering the second division of the works of Canova — namely, those composi- tions distinguished rather by elegance than force, we may begin with the statue of Hebe, both as being the earliest in the se- ries which commences with the eighteenth century, and as it displays the simple attrac- tions of mere juvenility and loveliness, un- impressed by exalted sentiment. Four times has this subject been repeated, and " four times," to use the flowery but not exaggerated language of panegyric, " has the sculptor seemed to pour from the gold- en cup of the goddess of youth, the ambro- sia served at the feasts of the Divinities '." 1 " Orazione in morte del March. A. Canova, &c. Cicognara" This statue was first sculptured in 1796, then repeated in 1801-14 and 16. Of all these repe- titions the best is that of 1814, now in the possession LIFE OF CANOVA. 423 In each of these repetitions some variation has been introduced ; but the only impor- tant improvement consists hi having substi- tuted a support more suitable to the sim- plicity of this art. The clouds on which the earlier copies of this figure rested, are of a nature too evanescent — too immaterial to constitute legitimate subjects of statuary. Even with the subsequent amendments, it may still be inquired, whether this production does not verge on, or even exceed the limits prescribed to the sepa- rate provinces of the chisel and the pencil. Hebe, descending through the sky, and poised in mid air, as if just touching with the extremity of one delicate foot the throne of Jove, — her floating ringlets, and transparent drapery streaming in the breeze created by her own motion, seems rather to belong to the magic illusions of paint- of Lord Cawdor, One of the earliest is now in pawn to a banker at Venice, or was in 1823, and had suffered considerably from the dampness of a Venetian ground- floor. 424 LIFE OF CANOVA. ing, than to the sober realities of sculpture. Such a performance assimilates, at least, to the former taste for innovation in pur- suit of excellences inconsistent with real grandeur, from which taste had previous- ly suffered its greatest deterioration, and to have banished which is to be numbered among the merits, while it added to the early difficulties of Canova. This depar- ture from rigid purity being overlooked, and let it be remembered, that, except the youthful work of Eurydice, the present supplies the only instance of a similar style, — this figure, for buoyancy of attitude — le- gerity and elegance of form — -joyous yet unaffected expression — delicacy and soft- ness in the naked, is truly beautiful, or, in the words of the poet, " muto incanto" " a mute enchantment." The merit of originality is also justly due to the inven- tion. In the few relievos of antiquity, in which this goddess is supposed to be in- troduced, the identity is doubtful, and on- ly one of the Greek writers describes such LIFE OF CANOVA. 425 a statue '. In thus treating a classic sub- ject, solely from the rich stores of his own imagination, the artist has preserved a congenial air in deportment as in orna- ment, — the style of countenance — the ar- rangement of the hair — the light drapery fastened below the bosom, the charms of which, with the finely turned shoulders and back it thus leaves exposed, all seem dictated by some Grecian muse. The golden vase held in the right hand, and the cup of the same metal placed in the left, are also warranted by the frequent practice of ancient as well as of modern masters ; — still this appears an innovation on that simplicity and unity of effect so indispensable in refined art, which no au- thority ought to sanction. 1 Pausanias, who states that Nausicles of Argos, nearly contemporary, or rather before Praxiteles, exe- cuted a statue of Hebe, of gold and ivory, for the Co- rinthians. Whether Canova derived his first idea from the description of the historian, or from ancient relievi, or from either, is unknown. Cicognara, UAr- genviUe, Winkleman, &c. 426 LIFE OF CANOVA. If motion were a subject altogether pro- per for sculpture, the Hebe of Canova might be deemed not inferior as an imita- tion to the Aurora of Guido in the sister art. The impressions we receive are in both cases similar ; — we gaze upon the respec- tive productions with the same feeling of regret with which we regard a lovely ob- ject about to disappear from view. The sculptor used to inform the few friends with whom he conversed freely about his own works, that the original intention, in thus representing the Goddess of Youth as rapidly gliding along, was to indicate the fleeting state of human existence, par- ticularly during this its most interesting and most delightful stage. The idea combines the beauty of the highest poetry with all the force of truth, and may excuse the insertion, as it suggested the senti- ments, of the following LIFE OF CANOVA. 427 SONNET. As fade the hues of summer's golden skies, Or droop spring's early flowers, at evening close, Touch'd by the gales that breathe of winter's snows; Thus scarcely mark'd youth's lovely season flies : Those are but nature's action and repose, Does man then fall — no more again to rise ? Debasing fear ! in the short span of time We view th' establish'd round of matter's change; — The mind's bright scope, and ever-daring range, May not be trac'd by Seraph-thought sublime ; Yet splendid works to earth unknown and strange, Respire of Heaven, the soul's last — native clime : Shall powers that gave the vital impress — die, While stone thus lives in youthful immortality ! The statues of the three Dancing Nymphs maintain a similar character of unideal, or rather of less intellectual beauty, which distinguishes the Hebe. Not that any of these works is devoid of beautiful and ap- propriate expression, but demanding little of elevation, the sensibility which they con- vey is of an inferior nature. In the Dan- cers, it seems to have been intended to re- present a progressive action \ The first 1 This continuity of action is sadly opposed by se- paration of place, one of the figures being in Italy, an- other in England, and the third in Russia. 428 LIFE OF CANOVA. crowned with a chaplet of roses, and smi- ling in anticipated enjoyment, is leading off the measure ; — the second, who has hung the rosy wreath on her arm, during a soft and languishing movement, lays a forefin- ger expressively on her chin, seeming to di- rect fond yet chastened glances to some fa- voured spectator ; — the third, entering fully into the excitement, has just struck the cymbals, which she elevates above her head, and in act of bounding into the air, shows every sentiment absorbed in the ani- mation of the present moment. In each of these figures are discovered peculiar and characteristic beauties ; the second is per- haps the most beautiful, and affords a fine illustration of the waving contour. In all we trace the same admirable disposition — the same light and graceful attitude — the same fire and precision in seizing a mo- mentary action, — but above all, the same looks of the most animated pleasure, so tempered with the purest modesty, that LIFE OF CANOVA. 429 each may be addressed in the language of the poet, Spargi intorno si onesta dolcezza Che innanzi a te non ha chi pen si vile l ! Canova is frequently charged as affecting a studied elegance of composition and of attitude in the representation of the female form. By the eye of rigid criticism, in- deed, an appearance of more elaborate grace may occasionally be detected ; but where this occurs, it will always be found in unison with — or even conducing to cha- racteristic truth of expression. If, then, in the works now described, stricter sim- plicity might have been preserved, it must also be admitted, that the very nature of the subject requires an action, in some degree artificial. Even the attitude of Hebe, remote as it is in some respects from the position of one who actually mi- nisters in her office, is yet so full of spirit — so accordant with the air of vouthful hi- 1 Thou pleasest with such modest grace No thought of thee is vile or base ! 430 LIFE OF CANOVA. larity diffused over the whole figure, — so adapted to display the finely moulded arm and bosom, that to have rendered it more simple, — more composed, would have in so far lessened the individuality and the beauty of the conception. In like manner, who does not feel, that the form studiously displayed, — a drapery somewhat solici- tously arranged, — the arms, neck, and de- licate feet uncovered with artful negligence, the slight minauderies discoverable in the Dancers, add to the fidelity of representa- tion, and are to be numbered among the graphic felicities of art ' ? 1 The statue of the first dancing Nymph was origi- nally executed for Josephine. On being sent to Paris it was exhibited in that city in 1812 along with Terpsi- core, another work of Canova, and commissioned by the Marquis Sommariva. These marbles called fortli great diversity of criticism. Among others, the follow- ing spirited remarks appeared in a celebrated journal : " Si nous vivions encore dans ces terns ou Tamour pro- pre des artistes se montroit avec naivete, et ou Ton ne trouvoit pas mauvais qu'ayant la conscience de leurs talens ils fussent les premiers a se rendre justice, nous pourrions voir sans surprise M. Canova renouveller pour ces deux statues un trait de Xeuxis, et ecrire sous LIFE OF CANOVA. 431 Were it required to name a production of sculpture in which the brightest enchant- ments of beauty are blended with the more elevated charms of elegance and of dignity, few works would present themselves to the mind before the Graces of Canova. In the remains of the later and better eras of Gre- cian taste, — for at an earlier period, as we learn from Pausanias, they were clothed, — these divinities are represented without drapery ; thus indicating the true source of grace in the absence of art, and in the ingenuousness of nature ; Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet Ducere nuda choros. Superior to both these modes of antiqui- ty, is the invention in this group. " The beauteous Sisters" are represented en- twined in a mutual embrace, and sup- porting each other during a moment of re- pose ; while a long slender veil or scarf, which may be supposed to have just been la plinthe, " on les critiquera plus facilement qu'on ne les imitera" Journal des Arts Scien. Litt. &c. Feb. 1813. 432 LIFE OF CANOVA. employed in guiding their light steps through the mazes of the dance is still fold- ed on their arms. This, falling in the most unstudied manner, seems guided only by chance, yet the hand of modesty itself could not better have arranged its folds. All the beauties and the science of the na- ked are thus displayed ; and at the same time, as the artist himself intended, it is in- culcated that even Nature may be improved by judicious ornaments in dress, demean- our, or education \ The grouping also is no less charming than new : each, with re- ciprocal action the most tender and enga- ging, contributes in maintaining the unity of the whole ; and in whatever point of view the spectator may be placed, the eye is almost equally delighted. Nor in this work, is the execution less to be admired, either on account of the difficulties to be overcome, or from the intrinsic merits of the performance. By the interlacing of the arms, and the proxi- 1 Letters of Canova. LIFE OP CANOVA. 433 mity, yet disunion of the contours of the limbs and of the torsi, trafori or perfora- tions in the block the most tedious and extensive were rendered necessary ; so that admiration is excited how the internal parts of the group could have been wrought '. But a technicality thus arduous — details thus laborious, have not affected the beau- ty or the science of this noble production. The vital and elastic softness of the naked — the flowing sweetness of the outlines — the exquisite shape and delicacy of finish in the extremities — the harmonious variety of the salient and re-entering curves — the correctness and graceful choice of the forms, are scarcely excelled by the finest remains of antiquity, while the labours of modern masters will rarely endure a comparison. To this superiority in composition and in execution, the expression may be deem- 1 The Author has listened to more than one dis- pute, Whether the figures were hewn from one block, or separately finished and afterwards united. Cer- tainly the meclianique of the Laocoon is not more diffi- cult, yet that group is composed of five separate pieces. 2e 434 LIFE OF CANOVA. ed inferior : Not that the countenances betray any deficiency of suavity or of feel- ing ; but there is not in the air and cha- racter of the heads, that ideal loveliness which seems the realized dream of rapt enthusiasm, glowing with all the tender- ness and vivacity of nature, yet never re- calling her individual traits. The specta- tor acknowledges the beauty of the fea- tures, and feels the gracious sentiments which they respire, still he sees but images of mortal charms, — and the lineaments ap- pear to resemble those whose living in- fluence he has experienced. In a subject purely imaginative, a style thus confined, in which a general idea, or abstract expres- sion of loveliness is not strongly percep- tible, must be pronounced defective, in as far as it assimilates to partial nature, how- ever captivating the examples imitated may be. Nor is this to be considered an observation limited to a single instance. In his conception of female character uni- versally, this master frequently betrays an LIFE OF CANOVA. 435 imperfect knowledge of that lofty and re- fined ideal which distinguishes the best works of antiquity. When Italy was stripped of its most valued sculptures, Florence being deprived of " That bending statue which enchants the world," Can ova was engaged to supply, by an ex- ertion of his genius, the ravished labour of Greece. Two conditions, however, were previously insisted on, which shewed both his judgment and his modesty : it was sti- pulated, that the substitute should not be a copy — nor occupy the vacant pedestal of the absent goddess. On the one hand, a copy, whatever excellences it possessed, could have added little increase to the fame of the sculptor ; on the other, " he wished to avoid the imputation of appear- ing to deem himself capable of producing any thing equal to the Venus de' Medici." Or, as he has elegantly expressed it in an- other letter, " The Greeks, equally with nature, are my instructors ; it behoves me, 2e 2 436 LIFE OF CANOVA. then, to preserve that deference which is due from a scholar to his preceptor ; — my Venus, therefore, shall remain at a humble distance, like an attendant nymph, who, in her absence, may attract for a moment the regards of the sorrowing votaries of the departed divinity I ." The Venus of Canova, like her celebrated prototype, is represented as having just issued from the bath. A robe caught up in a moment of alarm, partially veils her lovely form, one corner descending oblique- ly in front, the rest falling in small and graceful folds to the ground, thus afford- ing an elegant support to the figure, which is poised on the right extremity, the left foot thrown back, and the leg gently bent. In this mantle the right arm, crossed be- low the bosom, is enveloped, but hardly concealed, so admirable is the execution ; while the left in strong contrast is fully ex- posed, the hand expanded, and pressing 1 Letter of Canova to Sig. of Venice, July 1806. Canova had before refused to restore the arm of the antique, though pressed to do so. LIFE OF CANOVA. 437 the drapery to the breast. In other re- spects, the attitude is nearly the same in the modern as in the ancient statue. The same is the turning of the head on one side, with a look of sudden but pleasing anxiety, as if the expected approach of a beloved object had just been announced ; in both the bending of the body in retiring and involuntary delicacy — the shrinking of the limbs with the unconscious action of instinctive modesty, are similar, and in the former touched with not inferior skill. When natural expression is to be pourtray- ed, the sculptor of Possagno seldom falls be- neath — often rivals the masters of Greece. The proportions, however, are dissimilar, not only as regards the actual dimensions, but as respects their relative harmony ; Canova's Venus being in every part larger, and also of a stature naturally more lofty. This latter change appears by no means an improvement ; it may, to use the words of an admirer, " la rende men donna, e piu dea? — " render the figure more a goddess, and less a woman ;" but though more ma- 438 LIFE OF CANOVA. jestic, it is colder, and without that femi- nine softness — that attractive loveliness which charm in the ancient statue. In the works, indeed, now under examination, a general tendency may be observed to- wards heightening the proportions of the female form, and the reverse in that of the opposite sex, which, especially in bassi re- ttevi, is frequently too short. Hence, per- haps, arises that imperfect development conspicuous in the Venus, as compared with the sustained and well-defined cha- racter, so enchanting in the voluptuous maturity of beauty by which her rival is distinguished. In the contours of the lat- ter there is something inexpressibly beau- tiful and flowing ; their effect comes full upon the eye — yet they are absolutely evanescent — they are rounded into life, and we lose them in the animated mar- ble. The countenance, above all, is most exquisitely feminine ; a delicious smile, half bashful, half triumphant, as if de- manding, yet fearing admiration, plays up- LIFE OF CANOVA. 439 on the lips — so light — so transient, like the golden rays of the evening star trembling on the stream — we almost dread its disap- pearance before we have caught its in- fluence ! Where can be the feelings of those who assert the inanimation of a coun- tenance thus beaming with gracious sweet- ness — with winning softness ? — " Away ! there need no words, nor terms precise, The paltry jargon of the marble mart, Where pedantry gulls folly — we have eyes : Blood, pulse, and breast, confirm the Dardan shep- herd's prize ' ! Both statues, however, are certainly ema- nations of congenial spirits, thus united in genius, though separated in existence by twenty centuries. In each we discover relative merits, which, by approximating in themselves, transcend all other works of a similar kind. If the ancient excel in seductive beauty, and all-subduing tender- ness, the modern is at least equal in ele- gance of conception, and nobleness of ex- pression. 1 Byron — Childe Harolde. 440 LIFE OF CANOVA. " Lo ! sculptured by Canova's hand, Appears the soft Cytherian Queen ; Her limbs shed dewy light and bland, As bath'd just freshly they had been In cool Idalian stream. Shrinking she seems from her own view, In trembling conscious modesty ; To virtue's genuine dictates true, She veils in innate purity Charms you thus fairer deem. On forms so glowing — yet so chaste, The virgin's eye serene may gaze ; E'en beauty in the youthful breast, Unveil'd, no sullied thought can raise. When lovely — because pure. Ah ! had she thus all radiant shone When dubious claims disturb'd the skies, — Without a rival she had won That golden orb — the fairest's prize, And Troy had stood secure \" No production of his chisel afforded greater satisfaction to the artist than the Venus Victorious. The head of this statue is a portrait of Paolina Buonaparte, Prin- cess Borghese, whose fine style of counte- 1 Venere che esce dal Bagno, Ode III. di Missirini. stanzas 4-10 inclusive. x LIFE OF CANOVA. .41 nance, slightly heightened, nobly harmo- nizes with the ideal figure. Reposing on a Grecian couch, the goddess is sculptured in a half recumbent posture, her side sup- ported on rich cushions ; on these rests the right elbow, the hand gracefully raised to the cheek, while the left, placed on the thigh, holds with gentle touch the fruit of her recent victory. A light robe par- tially invests her exquisitely moulded limbs, leaving entirely nude the arms and body, the latter of which, particularly in the juncture of the neck, the bosom, and the waving contour of the flank, is abso- lutely a miracle of art. Canova has per- haps most excelled in ritratti ideati, — compositions which in the head present the traits of an individual ; and than the present, he never produced a more perfect work. It respires the breathing freshness and voluptuous beauty of Titian's brilliant forms, to whose manner of design it bears a close resemblance, united with the grace, purity, and correctness of antiquity. Were the expression of complacency — the smile of triumph which plays on the lovely coun- 442 LIFE OF CANOVA. tenance, more warm and animated, greater perfection in sculpture could hardly be de- sired \ Suggested, indeed, by the preceding, but resembling the antique Dionysiac of Nonnius % the Awakened Nymph next me- rits attention. This beautiful marble, now in possession of his Majesty, is, in its class, the most perfect work of the sculptor, whether regard be had to its poetical con- ception — delightful execution — or refined expression. Reclining on a rock, the Naiad, for such from the urn she appears, has just been roused from sleep by the sound of a lyre, the chords of which are struck by a youthful Love seated at her feet, whose raised eyes are filled with in- fantine enthusiasm. 1 The Author has never seen the marble statue of this figure, which is kept locked up in the Palazzo Borghese, the Prince, who constantly resides in Flo- rence, keeping the key. Even Canova himself could not obtain a sight of it. The remarks were made on the original model in the studio of the artist. * More commonly known by the name of the Her- maphrodite. LIFE OF CANOVA. 443 coll arpa Amor la desta Sorge sul fianco, e ad ascoltar s'arresta." 'he figure half raised, and resting on one arm — the turning of the head — the bend- ing of the torso — in short, the manage- ment of the whole attitude is extremely graceful in itself, while it reveals with won- derful force and truth the former position of reposing with the face downwards. Continuity of action, one of the greatest difficulties, as it is one not of the meanest beauties of art, is thus most happily and naturally attained '. The lubricity of the limbs — the gentle languor which pervades them, exhibiting the influence of sleep not yet dissipated — the simplicity, yet varied harmony of the outlines — the profound science and glowing nature of the forms, present a series of charms capable of pe- netrating the coldest heart. Above all is conspicuous the etherial character of the 1 Perhaps RafFaelle's Cartoon of curing the Lame Man, is the most perfect example of this excellence in modern art. 444 LIFE OF CANOVA. countenance, breathing the exalted fer- vour of lofty sentiment, and directly ele- vating the soul to the true object of art — the moral sublimity of pure and noble ex- pression. Canova himself esteemed this work as highly as his modesty would al- low him to value any performance of his own. Talking on this subject to one who long enjoyed his unlimited confidence, the author was informed that the sculptor once remarked, " If any proof, and he had subsequently received many, had been wanting, of the correct and highly culti- vated taste which so eminently distin- guishes the Prince, (meaning his present Majesty, who was then Prince-Regent), such a proof would have been afforded by the preference with which his Highness honoured that work, and by the anxiety evinced to possess it '." The works now described bear only in- direct reference to the superiority of their 1 This Nymph was originally commissioned by Lord Cawdor, but resigned by his Lordship at the personal request of his Majesty. LIFE OF CANOVA. 445 author in the management of drapery, — a department which, from the period of Grecian refinement, had never before been rightly understood, or at least judiciously treated. From the revival of the arts to the age of Michael Angelo, the drapery was poor and rigid ; that great man gave boldness and freedom, but at the same time introduced licentiousness in volume and neglect of form. These evils progres- sively increased ; and latterly a draped fi- gure presented little else than an assem- blage of confused masses, from which the head and extremities protruded, frequent- ly without the possibility of tracing their connection. For Canova it was reserved to restore propriety and elegance — to unite truth with selection — and to clothe with- out concealing nature. In these respects his eminence above every preceding mas- ter would be proved by the four sitting figures alone. Seated in an attitude of pensive composure, the Mother of Napo- leon ranks among the very noblest of the sculptor's labours ; and though the design 446 LIFE OF CANOVA. reminds us of the Agrippina of the Capitol, it need not shrink from comparison with that celebrated antique. The Ex-Empress Maria Louisa, represented with the attri- butes of the Goddess Concord, to model which the artist made a second journey to Paris in 1810, exhibits a grave, sustained, and dignified style of composition. The drapery in this statue is the most laboured and perhaps the most highly finished of all ; — but the features, as also the shape of the arms are bad, and ill adapted for sculpture, — defects to be attributed solely to the mo- del. Princess Esterhazy, seated on a rustic support, and occupied in sketching the sur- rounding landscape, is distinguished for lightness of effect and simplicity of attire. The Muse Polymnia, originally commenced as a portrait of the Princess of Lucca, but subsequently converted into an ideal com- position, is characterized by simplicity, dignity, and a most intellectual expression of deep thought, as if meditating on some lofty theme, — LIFE OF CANOVA. 447 •* No I from those lips not living sounds are sent ; 'Tis gesture renders silence eloquent '." A very elegant class of compositions consists of those Ideal Heads, which were finished during the hours of relaxation from more laborious studies, and generally presented as pledges of remembrance to absent friends. These works display a beautiful combination of fancy and of reali- ty ; — all being representations of celebra- ted females, where the artist has endea- voured to realize the glowing descriptions of poesy, or the more veracious traits of history, according to his own refined con- ceptions of character. These productions are numerous ; the following are perhaps the most perfect : — Corinna, a noble coun- tenance, exhibiting the majestic regularity of the Grecian ideal. — Sapho, more ten- der, a gentle smile plays about the mouth, — " Say, Muse of Love, boast of the Lesbian Isle, On Phaon — or thy Sculptor dost thou smile * ?" 1 Greek Epigram, probably written on a statue of the same Muse. 2 Italian Epigram by Negri. 448 LIFE OF CANOVA. Laura, — features less regular, but delicate, and full of sweetness, in accordance with her admirer's " Vedi ben quanta in lei dolcezza piove." Beatrice — Dante's " Donna beata e bella" is a most enchanting face, lovely, mild, and pure. But the most glowing portrai- ture of female loveliness — of soft, seduc- tive, yielding woman, is " her of Troy." " Beyond Imagination's power, Beyond the Bard's defeated art — With immortality her dower, Behold the Helen of the heart V in. The Cenotaphs and Funereal Monu- ments with which the genius, of Canova has enriched different countries of Europe, greatly contributed to extend his fame, while they constitute a numerous and inte- resting division of his works. These are of two kinds — architectural designs support- ing detached figures, and simple tablets in relievo. In the former the statues are either 1 Byron. It is not generally known that this is the embellished portrait of the lady, who par politesse is styled Marchesa C a. LIFE OF CANOVA. 449 as in the Tombs of the Popes, on account of their intimate connection with the ad- vances of early life, already described, — or of the natural proportions ; in the latter, the figures are always of the size of nature. One of the grandest, most solemn, and imposing sepulchral erections, with which the arts ever honoured the memory of de- parted worth or greatness ; and a produc- tion strongly proving the original powers of the artist, — is the Monument of the Arch-Duchess Maria Christina \ This noble composition had its origin in a mo- del executed by the sculptor in 1792, at the instance of certain individuals in Ve- nice, who attempted by subscription to raise a memorial over the neglected ashes of Titian. Through political events, and the death of its principal promoter, this meritorious endeavour failed. The design thus remaining unappropriated, was, with 1 Daughter of Maria Theresa, of Austria, and wife of Prince Albert, of Saxony. The inscription thus runs with simplicity and brevity : " Marias Christina?, " Austriacae, Alberti Saxoniae Principis, Conjugi." 2 F 450 LIFE OF CANOVA. the necessary alterations, adopted by its author on the present occasion. The first sketch in clay was placed in the Venetian Academy of Fine Arts, and — such are the vicissitudes to which even the best and the wisest are exposed, this very model is now in progress of execution as a monument to the memory of Canova himself 1 . The tomb of the Arch-Duchess, in the church of the Augustines at Vienna, con- sists of nine figures, a lion and medal- lion, all of the natural size. It has for a groundwork a simple pyramid of greyish 1 The design to erect a monument to Titian was chiefly begun and carried on by Zuliani, the early pa- tron of Canova, to which his death in 1795 was a fatal blow. The original programme for the subscription is still preserved, and is headed " Agli Amatori delle " Belle Arti ;" and goes on to state, that several lovers of the fine arts had resolved to employ Canova in erect- ing a tomb in the church de' Frari over the remains of Titian. The model sent by the former, and approved of, is then described. It appears that the number of associates was to be limited to seventy, who were each to subscribe 100 sequins, to be paid by two annual in- stalments, the first in April 1794. LIFE OF CANOVA. 451 marble placed on a plain square basement, from which two steps lead up to a door-way in the centre of the tomb. In front, and on the left of this entrance, disposed in the manner of a procession, are two groups of three figures each. Virtue, a youthful fe- male of afflicted yet dignified mien, accom- panied by two young virgins bearing gar- lands and torches, is carrying in an urn the ashes of the deceased. On the second step at a short distance stands Beneficence, support- ing an aged and infirm old man, behind whom is a child in the attitude of prayer. Opposite to these, on the right reclining on the steps and resting on a couchant lion, the tutelary genius of Saxony appears mournfully to regard the melancholy train. Above, Felicity with an attendant cherub, is transporting to heaven the portrait of the Princess. Nothing can exceed the beauty and the pathos which reign here ; — the varied expression of grief — the so- lemn simplicity of attire and of deport- ment — the slow and silent pace with which the procession seems to move forward — 2 f 2 452 LIFE OF CANOVA. the virtues represented peculiarly distin- guishing the deceased — all conspire to fill the mind with sorrow and regret. The dif- ficulty, also, of combining into one whole, by means so limited as are the resources of sculpture, here unaided by the graces of architecture, such a numerous assemblage of separate figures, may in some degree be appreciated from the fact, that in no monu- ment, ancient or modern, has even a simi- lar attempt been made. Yet how beautiful- ly, and with what simplicity, is this unity of effect accomplished. Funereal wreaths, and their own positions combine the figures of the same group. A garland dropped by chance unites the groups, still more firmly connected by a rich pall, which, spread diagonally upon the steps, breaks their dull uniformity and presents a pleasing line to the view. Judicious arrangement contri- butes not less to this harmonious result. The central one finely connects the extreme groups, which balance, yet strongly con- trast each other, — the one standing, the other reposing, — one draped, the other LIFE OF CANOVA. 453 naked. The eye in all positions is grati- fied by harmony and variety, yet without divining the secret of the enchantment : every thing is in the only place fitted for its reception, yet all seems the happy consequence of casual combination : the whole presents that perfection of art, by which art itself the most profound is con- cealed. Sibi quisquis Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret. If such a term may be applied to a pro- duction from the chisel of Canova, the Tomb of his country's Shakespeare — Al- fieri, is certainly a failure, — though twice modelled, and under the twofold inspira- tion of friendship for the poet, and regard for her by whose affection it was raised ". The works of genius, however, do not al- ways in excellence respond to the care be- stowed upon them, — and the feelings of the man may sometimes cramp the powers of the artist. A colossal figure of mourn-* 1 The Countess of Albany. 454 LIFE OF CANOVA. ing Italy, and the urn of the departed, whose medallion portrait appears in the centre, compose this monument. The fe- male is not without nobleness of aspect — but cold, and devoid of grace ; while the proportions, though intrinsically fine, over- power the inferior magnitude of the other parts. In execution the drapery displays great force, yet with little elegance in the arrangement, or skill in unfolding the sub- jacent forms. Distinctive character is also wanting. Alfieri is recalled to the memory, not presented to the mind, by a small relie- vo ; and if the merely ornamental accesso- ries of the masks, lyre, and laurel crowns, which tend rather to break up than to enrich the general effect, be removed, there is no- thing to discriminate the tomb of the poet. Still we view in the general design the im- press of a great mind — simplicity, while there is something extremely affecting in the tower-crowned Italy, bending in tears over the ashes of one whose loss her en- slaved condition and exhausted energies seem so incapable of soon redeeming. LIFE OF CANOVA. 455 SONNET. O Italy ! long first in arms and art, Though now thy glories to expiry wain ; Why thus depress'd, what recent woes impart Fresh cause of tears ; — what sorrows still remain ? Yes ! in that sepulchre's cold marble heart, Low sleeps the Bard, whose deep, tremendous strain Strikes the fir'd soul with force of lightning's dart ! Yet cease ; — to weep for Alfieri's vain : His spirit walks abroad — lives in the verse, That points in thunder at the tyrant's head, That bids be free — or die on freedom's herse ! Go ! rouse thy sons — indignant rouse to tread This path ; then deeds the Muse shall yet rehearse, Of Heroes living — equal to thy Dead x ! To the Mausolea now or formerly de- scribed — to the Tombs of Clement XIII. 1 XXIX. Sonetto — MissiruiL In quoting this au- thor for the last time, two things are requested to be pardoned — introducing poetry at all — and using con- siderable liberty with the original. It was thought that verses written under the eye of Canova himself might tend to illustrate the subject, and that conse- quently to give their meaning might not be unaccept- able. On the other hand, every one conversant in the 456 LIFE OF CANOVA. and XIV., of Emo, of Maria of Austria, of Alfleri, the model, though small, of a Ce- notaph for Nelson, may be added. This was modelled simply as a tribute of private admiration, and at a time when the French commanded in Italy. It consists of a square basement supporting a superstruc- ture of two circular plinths, adorned with sitting figures representing the four quar- ters of the globe, and surmounted by a sarcophagus, with relievos of the principal events in the life of the hero x . — We are living poetry of Italy, must be aware of its extreme tendency to amplification in the good, and to verbosity in the bad poets. To the former species of prolixity, Mis- sirini adds incessant allusions to the mythological fa- bles of antiquity. Hence the translator has common- ly thrown three or four of the Italian stanzas into one, and, generally, though the sentiments be preserved, he has rather imitated than translated. 1 This is one of the best designs of the artist, and the third instance only in modern times of an isolated monument, being intended to occupy the centre of a circular temple; it is more simple than Bvxmarotis intended Tomb of Julius II., and more grand than Nola's for Pietro de Toledo at Naples. LIFE OF CANOVA. 457 thus arrived at the more simple class of sepulchral marbles. One, however, hold- ing an intermediate rank, and one of the most beautiful, most pathetic productions ever sculptured, previously demands atten- tion. In the grand relievo on the Tomb for the daughter of the 3tarchesa di Santa Croce, reign a silence — a sadness — a desolation, which speak directly to the heart. Extended on a couch is seen the young and unwasted form, still lovely, as if death were but a soft slumber, — her placid features sweetly contrasting with the varied expression of surrounding sorrow. At the head of the couch stands her eldest brother, of tender years, yet capable of cherishing a grief all his own — while at the foot, surrounding their afflicted mother, whose attitude of woe is not to be described, are seen two younger children, unable fully to com- prehend their loss, but grieving because their mother grieves. In the centre, bend- ing over the opposite side, appears the af- fianced husband of the deceased, the de- 458 LIFE OF CANOVA. spairing image of blighted hopes and pe- rished love \ Over this disconsolate group one solitary lamp seems to shed a feeble and uncertain ray, powerfully contributing to the general result ; — so simple are the means which real genius employs ! Many are the instances where spectators have been surprised into tears by this composi- tion, which always remained in the studio of the artist ; — one lady, who some time before had sustained a similar loss, actual- ly fainted away at this touching represen- tation of a like destitution. The other Monumental Relievos are nu- merous, containing all nearly the same constituent elements of design — namely* a single female form lamenting, with the urn or bust of the deceased placed on a co- lumn near. From materials of such sim- plicity, which apparently afford no scope for variety, great beauty, and even great * The young lady died of a sudden illness on the very day appointed for her nuptials with the Count D'Haro. LIFE OF CANOVA. 459 diversity have been elicited. This spe- cies of monument, Canova is to be regard- ed as having invented, or perhaps restor- ed, since the idea of the figure may be found in at least one antique ; and was preferred by him, as it permitted objects to be sculptured of the natural size, to which greater force and truth of expres- sion, as well as boldness and refinement of execution, could thus be given. These works are all bassi relievi, and though ex- hibiting infinite beauty of form, delicacy of finish, and precision of outline, they are frequently deficient in strength, from the degree of relief being disproportionate to their dimensions. They often resemble a fine picture, where the light is too equally diffused over the whole surface, without the just equivalent of shade. In lines of such extent, it would have been well if the con- tours, instead of losing themselves gradual- ly in the plain of the tablet, had been rounded off to a certain altitude, then cut square, as in many of the most admired 460 LIFE OF CANOVA. relievos of antiquity : a bolder, firmer, and deeper shadow is thus cast, and a more vigorous effect produced. From monumental, the transition is na- tural to historical relievos. In this beau- tiful department of composition Canova never exercised his chisel ; for though he modelled numerous and various subjects from mythology ? history, and poetry, only one of these, at the repeated instances of a friend, was executed in marble. In this branch of art, however, no less than in others, an important reformation was ef- fected by his example. Sculpture had here suffered great deterioration from the injudicious imitation of painting, so that, from the fifteenth to the close of the eigh- teenth century, when, about 1790, this master first began the study, as a relaxa- tion from severer labours, not a single re- lievo remains, composed in a pure style ; corruption, on the contrary, progressively increases. He, therefore, in restoring the golden purity of antiquity, first pointed out LIPE OF CANOVA. 461 the path to be followed ; and if he left this career open to the exertions of other artists, wishing to devote his own powers to more lofty pursuits — surely it is not hence to be maintained, that he who excelled in the noblest, could not also have surpassed in the inferior and less difficult provinces of art ? In concluding this analysis of their me- rits and defects, which however imperfect is believed to be impartial, no observations on these varied productions are required. Examples in different styles have been se- lected, such as best display the characteris- tic qualities of the genius and manner of the sculptor. Justice, however, requires to press one remark on the attention. Ca- nova, it has been said, excels only in the beautiful: the preceding enumeration of some of his works in the grand, will en- able to appreciate the validity of this opi- nion, — which causes merely extrinsic have concurred to originate and to maintain. Notwithstanding native predilection for 462 LIFE OF CANOVA. sculpture of the bold style, as appears from his own letters, more than forty years and these the best of life had passed away, be- fore an opportunity of indulging this in- clination could be commanded. Thus, with the exception of the earliest group executed in Rome — a youthful perfor- mance, he was long known, and his fame first established only as the sculptor of the gentler affections, and softer forms of na- ture. The world is parsimonious of praise ; nor is it easy to soar beyond those boun- daries to which its fiat has first restricted eminence. It is certain, also, that in sculpture particularly, subjects of tranquil loveliness are more generally pleasing than those of the sublime in forceful passion. This preference obtained even among the Greeks, whose habits and institutions were better calculated than ours to foster a taste for works of the latter description. Perhaps it solely belongs to poetry, by employing reiterated impulses and consecutive im- pressions, to fire the soul with deeply ter- LIFE OF CANOVA. 463 rible — yet pleasing emotions. Hence, while the Venus — the Graces — the Hebe — have been multiplied in repetitions ; — the Boxers — the Hercules have never been, and the Perseus only once re-produced. These, and other statues of a similar cha- racter have thus remained seen and known by comparatively few. All these circum- stances were favourable to the propagation and continuance of the invidious criti- cisms of his rivals, who, unable to deny the superiority of the sculptor in one de- partment, endeavoured to narrow his glo- ry, by limiting his genius to that alone. But in asserting the claims of Canova to the strength of Glycon, equally with his un- disputed rights to the graces of Praxiteles, — his defender will act both in accordance with truth, and supported by the concur- ring approbation of the most enlightened judges. 464 LIFE OF CANOVA. CHAPTER VIII. Retrospective view — General peace — Canova deputed by the Pope to recover the works of art belonging to the Holy See — Visit to London — Receives a va- luable present from his Majesty — Created Marquis of Ischia on returning to Rome — Colossal statue of Religion, and Temple of Possagno — Renewed la- bours — Last illness — Death — Funeral obsequies — Anecdotes of his habits and character as a man — Benevolence — Friendship — Love — Account of his modes of study, and manner of life as an artist — Estimate of Canova's genius and rank in art — Conclusion. X he principal events that distinguish the first fifteen years of the period, during which Canova was employed on the splen- did series of works described in the preced- ing chapter, have been respectively alluded to in treating of individual performances. In 1802, and eight years afterwards, as al- ready noticed, he was twice called to Paris. In both instances he was received with LIFE OF CANOVA. 465 marked courtesy by Napoleon ; who found the artist no less candid and sincere on the latter occasion, when modelling the por- trait of the young Empress, than formerly, when employed on his own likeness. He came daily to the apartments of Maria Louisa, while the sculptor was at work, in order, as he expressed it, pour Vegayer, as she w r as then extremely diffident and re- served — spoke no Italian, and French very indifferently. The youthful bride appear- ed to be treated with the uimost tender- ness, but without that dignified and ele- vated affection which would have been paid to one, who was considered capable of bearing an equal share in the glory and the cares of a mighty empire. To the a- cute observer there was apparent in the address of her husband an air of fondling superiority, like that of a man who may amuse himself with a young and tolerably pretty woman, whose person he loves, without much admiring her intellect \ From what he then remarked, Canova had 1 Conversations of Canova reported to the author. 2 G 466 LIFE OF CANOVA. little doubt of this marriage having been arranged with the consent, if not by the advice of Josephine, of whom Buonaparte always spoke with respect and deference. As the Ex-Empress was a warm patroness of the sculptor, allusions to her were not unfrequent. One day, when on the pre- ceding evening Canova had been to visit by invitation, at her retreat, — " Well," said Napoleon, abruptly changing the con- versation, as was his common custom, and addressing him in Italian, " You were yes- terday at Compeigne" — In continuing the subject, the former happened to repeat with approbation some remarks made by Josephine. This seemed highly to gratify the latter, who replied, " Donna e da mente, come la vostra, di un secolo ;" — " She is a woman with a soul like yours, Canova, such as is seen but once in an age." The erection of the monument to the memory of Maria Christina in 1805, called Canova also a second time to Vienna ; on which occasion he likewise modelled the bust of the Emperor. The journal of his brother who, in the capacity of Secretary, LIFE OP CANOVA. 467 from 1800 constantly attended him in all his excursions, it would however appear, does not exhibit so brilliant a page during their stay at the imperial court, as when they resided in the capital of the Usurper. Albert of Saxony, indeed, the husband of the deceased Archduchess, who at this time paid the sculptor great attention, must be regarded as possessing both taste and feeling, since the subjects at least of the groups in that grand work are said to have been dictated by him ; while on the other hand the highest judgment is displayed in reducing to the rules of art the concep- tions of another. With the exception of these distant journies, and a few short intervals of ab- sence in Florence and other parts of Italy, for the space of more than fifteen years, Canova never quitted Rome — constantly occupied in his workshop, where, to use his own words, " his statues were the sole proofs of his civil existence." In speaking thus, his modesty would have endeavour- ed to conceal the many acts of beneficence 2 g 8 468 LIFE OF CANOVA. which equally proved his activity in virtue, as the former in professional pursuits. While the one spread his fame over Eu- rope, the other endeared him to his fellow- citizens, more especially artists, who du- ring the privations and misfortunes of that disastrous period were relieved by his bounty, or supported by his employment. But the times were hastening to an ame- lioration. The efforts of united nations at length prevailed, and the unanimous wishes of the good, the wise, and the virtuous, were realized in a general peace with its consequent re-establishment of order. The spoils of cities, and the trophies of art, which the tide of conquest had swept in its vortex to one place, by a reflux of the stream were again to be lodged in their ancient seats. This change was produc- tive of a new and arduous, yet pleasing la- bour to Canova, — for who so fit to super- intend the collecting and homeward return of those treasures, as he who of all men could most truly appreciate their value, and who had never ceased to mourn their LIFE OF CANOVA. 469 lepart e ? Accordingly, one of the first acts of his good old Master's administra- tion, now, after many years of exile and of patient endurance restored to his throne, was to invest Canova with the proper authority, as his accredited functionary to the allied powers, for the purpose of re- claiming such works of art as had formerly pertained to the patrimony of the Church. Paris, in 1815, shewed an aspect very opposite to that worn in 1810, and Canova was thus called to support a very different character in a scene so changed. Whether in his own profession however, or as the trusted agent of his sovereign, he equally evinced the possession of superior powers. To the witlings of the world, genius has long been a standing jest, as if its retired habits and honourable feelings were incon- sistent with judicious management of af- fairs. In conducting the common-place concerns of life with fairness and candour, it may indeed be sometimes disappointed, but never over-reached ; since, though not that others employ means less ignorant 470 LIFE OF CANOVA. ingenuous, it indignantly rejects such arti- fices. Canova only adds another to the many instances of talents which, nurtu- red and chiefly exercised in the solitude of study, have yet shone with conspicuous lustre in the direction of public and im- portant transactions. Nor let this be deem- ed an attempt to surround his character with adventitious or unmerited splendour. The part which he had now to sustain was equally new and arduous, — where so many contending interests were to be reconciled in favour of a power, one of the weakest — and claiming the most valuable of the ob- jects in dispute. Russia, which had no arts to suffer in adorning the car of inva- sion, and the Germans, who possessed com- paratively little of tasteful ornament capa- ble of tempting the hand of the spoiler, were as usual the most clamorous in their demands. They insisted on treating France as a conquered country, and on the pro- priety of partitioning her plunder. The Apollo or the Transfiguration had thus a greater chance to visit the Danube or the LIFE OF CANOVA. 471 Tanais, than to repose on the shores of the Tiber. In opposing the individual claims of Rome, Austria also enlarged on the rights of what she was pleased to term her Italian provinces, many of whose treasures, by the bye, have since found their way to Vienna. France, on the contrary, was naturally in- clined to retain what she already possessed ; nor was there wanting much of intrigue of a less obvious character. The British alone seemed to be impartial, and without prefe- rence to watch over the interests of all ; or, to give Canova's own emphatic language, were the Patriots of Europe \ By a proper union of deference to the opinions of the illustrious personages with whom he now mingled, and of firmness in urging the just pretensions of his country, he was finally enabled most completely to accomplish the object of his mission. The exertions made by him at this time, and the anxious zeal which he displayed, are not indeed to be described, but they ought to survive in the " Si trovano i defensori dell* Europa." 472 LIFE OF CANOVA. memories of the grateful Romans. Depri- ved of the riches restored through his en- deavours, their capital would have lost its noblest ornaments, and must have ceased to be, in the most intellectual sense, " the City of the soul \" If disembodied spirits regard from their bright abodes the tran- sitory occurrences of the world they once adorned, it must have rejoiced the mighty minds whose creations they are — thus to behold the assembled states of Europe con- tending for the glory of possessing those emanations of genius, in breathing canvas, or animated marble, which have stamped even their mortal existence with immorta- lity. The important commission with which he had been entrusted being thus happily effected, his attention was next directed to the accomplishment of a design long me- 1 Cicognara — Paravia — Falier mention the great exertions of Canova on this occasion. The first, how- ever, is ungratefully silent on the support received from the British authorities, of which he must have been well informed, and which the Pope himself ac- knowledged. LIFE OF CANOVA. 473 ditated. This was a visit to the British metropolis, where he accordingly arrived towards the conclusion of the same autumn. Of the advantages and the pleasure derived from this journey, Canova ever spoke in terms of the most gratified recollection. The mansions of wealth and of rank were opened in emulous hospitality to welcome the illustrious stranger ; while the friendly connections formed with several of our most distinguished artists and men of ta- lent, constituted sources of more perma- nent gratulation. He had also long che- rished an increasing admiration for the few remains of art in Italy, ascribable to the era of Phidias. Even from his youth, the lofty union of grandeur and of truth in the conception, — the harmonious accord- ance of an execution broad and vigorous, yet flowing, natural, and un exaggerated, which distinguished this epoch, had arrested his discerning judgment, and had been fol- lowed as models, while the age generally was alike incapable of feeling, as of imita- ting these beauties. The discovery and re- 474 LIFE OF CANOVA. moval of the Elgin marbles, therefore, the first undoubted specimens of that school, had excited no ordinary curiosity. Every intelligence which the restrictions of war permitted to reach his place of abode, was eagerly collected ; and to him as the most enlightened of his countrymen on that sub- ject, Visconti addressed his dissertations on those highly but justly celebrated sculp- tures. On first viewing these remains, — and they formed the first subject of inquiry as they continued to be of reiterated study, no visible impression was for some time perceivable. As he proceeded in their exa- mination, his countenance began to assume the same glowing intelligence, usually ex- hibited when his mind was engaged in a profound and pleasing investigation con- nected with professional pursuits, and his manner to express the most intense inte- rest. He seemed as if restoring in fancy, the broken surfaces and mutilated frag- ments to their original perfection, — dim- med indeed to others, but to his eye still plainly discernible. These works he ever LIFE OF CANOVA. 475 afterwards mentioned with enthusiastic — almost devotional admiration, stating, that from them, the principles which for half a century had guided his practice, had recei- ved illustration and improvement ; — and that in the productions executed subse- quently to his visit to the British metropo- lis, the real connoisseur would perceive traits of vigour and of nature superior to all his former efforts \ In his present Majesty, the fine arts have ever found an enlightened and generous pa- tron. From his earliest accession to power, their best interests, no less than those of literature, have been advanced by his pri- vate munificence, and by the judicious mea- sures of his government. From a Sove- reign thus capable of appreciating, and dis- posed to reward talents, Canova might have naturally anticipated a gracious re- ception. Nor were these hopes disappoint- ed. His Majesty, then Regent, honoured the sculptor in various conferences ; gave a commission for one of his most beau- 1 Letters and Conversations of Canova, Cicognara, 476 LIFE OF CANOVA. tiful groups ; and, farther, presented him with a gold box set with brilliants, contain- ing besides a gift worthy of the donor. As an especial mark of favour, he was also made the bearer of private letters from the Britannic, to his own Sovereign, the aged Pontiff 1 . Canova was a man of the utmost simplicity, candour, and independence of mind. The manner in which he always ex- tolled the fine taste, sound judgment, and extensive information, that distinguish his present Majesty in matters relative to the arts, can therefore only be ascribed to a love of truth, and to no motives of flattery or views of interest. He has also been heard to observe, and he had enjoyed frequent intercourse with most, if not all the crown- ed heads of Europe — " that he knew no So- vereign in whose address were more happily combined, the suavity of the amiable man, and the dignity of the great Monarch." 1 Paravia is greatly delighted with the marks of esteem received by Canova in England, and mentions the notice taken of him by the King, the very last in his list of honours, and as " le comble de tout." LIFE OF CANOVA. 477 Rome was destined once more to view a scene which recalled the pomp of her for- mer triumphs, when amid the trophies of less permanent conquest, the same produc- tions of perfect art moved in glorious pro- cession through her streets ; — once more herechoes repeated the hymn of gratula- tion, addressed to those bright images of energies long since passed away, — as these violated spoils were again borne within her walls to their well-known seats in the Capi- tol and the Vatican. The rejoicings which took place on this occasion, were renewed with demonstrations of augmented joy, when on the day following Canova himself arrived, like the tutelary genius of his country's yet surviving fame, and invested with nobler — because guiltless honour, than any of her ancient conquerors 1 . Nor did such eminent services pass undistin- guished, either by the gratitude of his fel- low-citizens, or by the favour of his Prince. Immediately on his return he was named, 1 His triumphal entry, for such it may be called, took place on the 5th of January 1816. 478 LIFE OF CANOVA. " President of the Commission for the pur- chase of objects of art," — as also " of the Academy of Archaiology," having been for- merly declared President of " St Luke's." By order of the Holy Father, in full consis- tory, his name was also inscribed in the " golden volume of the Capitol," — the sculptor of Possagno being enrolled among the Roman Patricians, by the title of Mar- quis of Ischia ; and to this dignity an annual pension of 3000 crowns was assigned \ In thus substantiating in the estimate of the world, the patent of nobility already stamp- ed by nature, — as a signal mark of respect, the Pope himself with his own hand wrote the diploma of rank so deservedly merited. Of the sum attached to his Marquisate, Ca- nova never converted to his own use the smallest portion ; the whole, as will here- after appear, being expended in a manner 1 About L.625 per annum. The book which con- tains the names of the Roman nobles is preserved a- mong the archives of the Capitol, and is termed " Li- bro d'oro del Campidoglio." LIFE OP CANOVA. 479 that did equal honour to his judgment, as to his generosity. We now behold the humble and single- minded artist, thus elevated to a rank high- ly distinguished in worldly grandeur, and still more celebrated as the first in one, — and that one of the noblest departments in the empire of mind. The same simplicity, however, the same unassuming modesty, to the end of life continued to characterize his sentiments, and to mark his deport- ment. Religion — pure,'mild, and rational, possessed in truth the deepest influence over the heart of Canova. This amiable and enlightened feeling, united with natu- ral humility and gratitude, led him to attri- bute every vicissitude which he had expe- rienced in his own fortune — or witnessed in the fate of those great personages with whom he had conversed, solely to the dis- pensations of an all-wise and good Provi- dence. Those changes, indeed, which had so recently and so powerfully affected the potentates of Europe, had not hastened his greatness ; on the contrary, had he been 480 LIFE OF CANOVA. ambitious of honours, he might have com- manded the highest in the gift of him, who so long had held in iron grasp the desti- nies of nations. His patriotic moderation rejected the proffered exaltation. He now enjoyed the proud consciousness of serving his country restored to independence, and had the satisfaction of receiving the re- wards of these services from the hand of a Sovereign, to whom he had previously been attached by private friendship, — whose misfortunes he had never ceased to lament, — whose return filled him with joy '. His temper of mind, no less than the stu- pendous events themselves so far beyond mortal foresight or agency, as well as the pleasure derived from their happy termina- tion, thus disposed Canova to pious im- pressions, and he proposed to eternize both 1 Quel sentimento di una viva riconoscenza al suo Principe — quel devoto affetto che il legava alia sagra persona di Pio VII., — e sue proprie fece le sventure di quel Pontifice, e la accompagno co' sospiri co' de- siderj e col pianto ncl hmgo ed onorato esiglio, &c. Paravia* — Falter. — Monaco, 6fc. LIFE OF CANOVA. 481 the transactions and his gratitude, by a gra- tuitous effort of his skill in erecting a co- lossal statue of Religion — one of the most noble monuments of his powers, and among the grandest designs yet produced by mo- dern art. Already the model filled Italy with admiration of its excellence, — the enormous block of marble was placed, — and the chisel of the sculptor sus- pended over it, only delayed to call the mass into life, till the proper authorities should determine what site was to receive the precious offering. Will it be credited, that indecision of this point, through the mutual jealousies and vanity of church- men, deprived Rome and the arts of a pre- sent so magnificent ! yet such was the fact. The artist himself would have preferred the majestic expanse of St Peter's; or rather the glorious circle of the Pantheon, where this personification of Catholicism might rise in the centre, while the me- morials of departed genius, in busts, sta- tues, and monuments, should adorn the splendid periphery. But designs thus cal- 2 H 482 LIFE OF CANOVA. culated alike to aggrandise the capital, — to advance the arts, — to honour religion, were rendered abortive by the difficulties of re- conciling — not the contending interests, but the rival pretensions of those concerned ; or by a passion more disgraceful still — en- vy of the reputation which an old man would derive from a statue recording his virtues and his misfortunes. Cardinals and Princes from such motives, combined in throwing obstacles in the way of comple- ting a work destined to commemorate the return from banishment of the Head of their church ! Except a copy, in proportions somewhat larger than nature ', this magnificent statue thus never advanced beyond the model, — which is thirty palms, or upwards of twenty feet in altitude. Sacerdotal vestments clothe in simple sublimity the mystic form ; a tiara bearing in front divine symbols co- vers the head ; the right hand is elevated, and pointing towards heaven, as the only object worthyof fixing our regards; against 1 Executed in marble for 'Lord Brownlow. LIFE OF CANOVA. 483 the left arm rests the standard of the cross, while the hand supports a medallion of St Peter and St Paul, placed on a co- lumn inscribed with the Decalogue, and various passages of scripture. That the original intention of paying a tribute of re- spect to the Pontiff, to whom he was at- tached by so many ties, might not be alto- gether frustrated, the Artist caused to be executed a masterly engraving of this pro- duction with the following inscription : Pro felici reditu Pit VII. Pont. Max. Re- ligionis formam, sua inipensa in marmore ex- culpendam, Antonius Canova libens fecit et dedicavit. But a memorial thus transitory, though it might evidence the sincerity of private gratitude, could not satisfy those ardent sentiments of devotion which glowed with- in the bosom of Canova. He resolved to consecrate not one statue, but to devote the whole of his fortune, the declining years of life, and the last energies of ge- nius to the cause of religion. His adopted country — the nurse of his youthful powers 2h 2 484 LIFE OF CANOVA. — the scene of his maturer triumphs, had been deprived of his generous offer ; yet, though filled, as appears from his epistolary correspondence, with sorrow and regret, his mind was not depressed, nor his reso- lution discouraged, by a disappointment so unforeseen. Recollection now reverted to the remote place of his nativity, and he re- solved, by erecting there, if not one of the grandest, at least one of the most elegant temples in modern Italy, to manifest his piety, advance the arts, and dignify, no less than enrich the humble village where he had first drawn breath. In this noble edi- fice it was proposed to renew the beauties and the sublimity both of the Pantheon and of the Parthenon, — remains exhibiting in its greatest purity the science of Greece and of Rome '. It was to prove an asylum not only for the statue now described, but was to be adorned with many more of his works ; and within its sacred precincts the ashes of the founder were to repose. 1 The Parthenon of Athens, built in the age of Pericles, — the Pantheon at Rome in that of Augustus. LIFE OF CANOVA. 485 Circumstances, which it is here unne- cessary to enumerate, occasioned the com- mencing of this magnificent enterprise to be delayed for more than two years. Du- ring that interval however, Canova was constantly intent on the proper means of carrying the design into execution, and, as is evident from private letters, his deter- mination and his motives were daily ac- quiring fresh strength. In the present concourse of workmen — in the sums now to be expended, and still more in the fu- ture resort of travellers, he contemplated a fruitful and never-failing source of pro- sperity to his native Possagno \ Patriot- ism equally enlightened as benevolent thus conduced in recommending an underta- king which, notwithstanding the piety of the intention, might otherwise have been deemed merely a splendid inutility. At length, in the summer of 1819, Canova ar- rived in the secluded scene of his intend- ed operations. Workmen soon after be- Falier — Cicognara — Para via — Letters of Canova. 486 LIFE OF CANOVA. gan to assemble, with whom were joined a multitude of labourers and assistants from the adjacent district, to aid in form- ing with the utmost dispatch, the preli- minary excavations. On the 8th of July, the whole number being assembled, these artificers were sumptuously entertained by their generous employer, who on this oc- casion presided in person at one of the numerous tables. At the close of the en- tertainment, with an amiable mixture of feeling and of taste, he distributed from his own hand presents to the young shep- herdesses and peasant girls of the neigh- bouring hamlets, who had mingled in the festivities of the day, and had even pre- viously joined in the less agreeable occu- pation of removing the earth, voluntarily assisting in what they deemed a pious la- bour. It was a most interesting sight to view these rural beauties, dressed in the gay and picturesque costume of the Vene- tian contadine — their sunny looks bright- ened with pleasure, advancing in long pro- cession to where Canova was expecting LIFE OF CANOVA. 487 them. Each as she passed his seat, recei- ved from his own hand the valued gift — and blushing her inaudible thanks, or lisp- ing in modest diffidence her " grazie Signor mi" mingled with an equally delighted crowd, of fathers and mothers, brothers or lovers, who were standing around to admire and to congratulate these objects of their affection. Upwards of L.400 x were thus expended by their noble-minded country- man ; — and from the surrounding happi- ness, the spectator must have often turn- ed to gaze on him who had created it. Canova's countenance seemed to reflect the united enjoyment of all ; it beamed with the conscious triumph of doing good ; and his eye glistened with the dew of genuine — of unostentatious benevolence. Often has he been heard to declare, that this was " one of the few days of real ex- istence." " Yet," he would continue, " how little did it cost me to make so many hu- man beings happy ; — after all, the true va- 1 2000 crowns. 488 LIFE OF CANOVA. lue of money is to be estimated from the quantity of happiness which it may pur- chase for others : — in this light riches are indeed desirable." Canova being in haste to depart for Rome, the first Sunday, which happened to be the 11th of the month, subsequent to this festivity was appointed for the reli- gious ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the future edifice '. On this occa- sion an immense concourse, not only from the surrounding districts, but even from Venice, hastened to Possagno. After ha- ving assisted in the offices of devotion, in the humble erection which his splen- did structure was to supersede, the sculp- tor, habited in his robes as a Knight of Christ, and bearing the insignia of various other orders, headed the proces- sion, accompanied by the ecclesiastical representative of the Bishop, whom in- disposition prevented from attending in 1 The excavations for the foundation were twice cut, the site first pitched upon being afterwards judged too low. LIFE OF CANOVA. 489 person. Behind followed the numerous workmen, and others connected with the undertaking. Amid the joyful acclama- tions of the surrounding multitude — the sounds of solemn music — and the prayers of the officiating priests, the rites were consummated. Whatever might have been the particular creed of individuals — all must have felt their hearts elevated in unison with the grandeur of the general result. Around, on the green declivities of the romantic hills, were ranged thou- sands of every condition, sex and age, carrying into a scene of otherwise deep so- litude the powerful animation of religious feeling. Beyond on one hand, rose in azure distance the majestic Alps ; on the other, the Adriatic diffused its broad mir- ror, on the bright surface of which, re- mote towers and islands shewed like dark specks, yet the eye perceived no borne ; — appropriate site for His temple whose throne is space, and whose power is om- njpptence ! How affecting, also, was that moral sublimity which arises from contem- 490 LIFE OF CANOVA. plating the fortunes and the energies of man ! The generation had not yet pass- ed away that beheld the mover of these events commence his career among the ob- scurest inhabitants of these very solitudes ; the noblest of distinctions had raised him by virtuous exertion to dignity and wealth ; now, amid the ever-remembered scenes of early days, he was about to consecrate ta- lents and riches to the glory of his God, and to the service of his species. From the moment of its first foundation, the erection was urged forward without in- termission. Every succeeding autumn found Canova at Possagno encouraging the workmen by honorary medals and pecuni- ary rewards. During these different visits considerable alterations on the original plan of the edifice were introduced, particularly in 1821, when an additional range of co- lumns was added to the portico, and other improvements accomplished, which, with- out impairing the beautiful simplicity of the ancient temple, rendered its form more commodious as adapted to a Christian LIFE OF CANOVA. 491 church. The anxiety entertained for the completion of a structure which, seeming- ly forgetful of his other labours, the artist almost appears to have regarded, as the sole connecting tie between his memory and posterity, is still more forcibly expressed in the following extract from his will, written long before his decease : " To the honour, and to the probity of my brother, and sole heir, I confide the obligation of continuing, completing, and embellishing in all its parts, without the least reservation, and in the shortest time possible, the Temple of Possagno, according to the plans establish- ed by me and communicated to him. To which object, if the. funds appointed prove insufficient, all my effects and property are to be sold, till the necessary sums be ob- tained." The building on which such un- wearied attention was thus bestowed is im- posing, both in dimensions and from its si- tuation, on the summit of a gentle eleva- tion. The body of the structure is cir- cular, with a noble portico of the purest Grecian Doric, and the pediment, when the whole is terminated, will be adorned with 492 LIFE OF CANOVA. relievos from sacred history — modelled a- mong the last works of their immortal au- thor \ Neither length of time, nor remoteness of site, nor immense expenditure could di- vert Canova from a purpose, which motives so generous and so noble had concurred to originate. The last consideration, in- deed, kept his mind in constant agitation ; and though he had not entered upon the design rashly, or without due reflection, he soon found that additional resources would be wanting to meet the exigencies thus created. Hence, ever intent upon the ob- ject of his pious wishes, we behold him in the waining years of life, with a shatter- ed constitution, and exhausted strength, eagerly undertaking fresh commissions, engaging in new works in groups, statues, monuments, and labouring with all the ar- dour of unimpaired youth. Exertions both of body and spirit thus in advanced age, 1 For a more detailed account of this temple, see Crico's " Viagetto Pittorico da Venezia a Possagno ;" or the plates and letter-press description, in folio, by Lucciolh. LIFE OF CANOVA. 493 renewed with juvenile activity, could not fail of proving injurious to a frame delicate from the beginning ; nor is there any thing improbable in the apprehensions of his friends, that the close of existence was thus accelerated. During the period intervening between the commencement of these splendid ope- rations at Possagno, and the time of his de- cease, several of Canova's most beautiful productions were either wholly executed or finally perfected. Among the chief of these may be mentioned, — the group of Mars and Venus, — the statue of Washing- ton, — the colossal figure of Pius VI., — the Pieta, — the St John, — the recumbent Mag- dalen, &c. In the first of these works, the design was suggested by his Majesty, by whom the group was commissioned at the time of Canova's visit to London. In realizing the beautiful idea of Venus with the attributes of Concord seducing from his stern resolves the ferocious Mars, as com- memorative of the benign influence of Peace succeeding the horrors of War, — 494 LIFE OF CANOVA, the Sculptor has not equalled the originali- ty of the thought. He has in fact produ- ced little more than a replica of the earlier work of Venus and Adonis ; the grouping, the attitudes, the expression are almost identical ; — the character of Mars is alone diversified, yet the form of the God is not equal to that of the Shepherd. The figure of Venus indeed, is transcendently lovely, while in the perfection of mechanical exe- cution, and in the lustre of exquisite finish, this work, by the Artist's own confession, is not excelled by any production of his hand. The noble statue of Washington, for the Senate-house of New York, is interest- ing, as the first piece of sculpture executed in the old, and publicly commissioned in the new world ; thus uniting by the fame of one individual, the arts of both hemi- spheres. The intrinsic beauty equally re- commends the work to notice. Seated, and arrayed in the imposing garb of an ancient Roman, the Liberator of Ame- rica is inscribing on a tablet his last in- structions, — " George Washington to the LIFE OF CANOVA. . 495 United States," appearing already writ- ten. With the antique majesty of cos- tume, the mild and dignified benevolence of the countenance finely accords, — telling more plainly than the sword and sceptre on which he tramples, that the happiness of nations — not the aggrandisement of an in- dividual, urged him to un sheath the one, and to reject the other. The kneeling fi- gure of Pius VI., which now adorns the crypt in St Peter's, is of the very first ex- cellence, combining delicacy with force of manual dexterity, and grandeur with na- tural expression. This was one of the works mentioned by the sculptor during his last illness ; he regretted the absence of some additional touches, and that he could not place it in the appointed situa- tion. The Pieta, or group of the Dead Sa- viour and two Maries, was intended for the high altar of the new church, but unfortu- nately never advanced beyond the model. It is remarkable as one of those happy in- stances, where genius seems to operate as if by inspiration, and to create without ef- 496 LIFE OF CANOVA. fort. The conception is most felicitous ; and though involving the profoundest prin- ciples of art, the composition proceeded with the most amazing rapidity, neither ad- mitting pause, nor suffering alteration. The artist had returned from Venice ; and while it was imagined that he was yet re- posing from the fatigues of the journey, Rome was astonished by the exhibition of a work which, from its perfection and its science, might have been judged the labour of long study and repeated experiments. The works thus succinctly mentioned con- stitute only a small portion of those passed over in silence ; but matters of more melan- choly interest now press upon the attention. The latest performance that issued from the hand of the Sculptor, and which was not long finished when his energies subsided for ever under the pressure of a last illness is — a colossal bust of an intimate friend '. This circumstance may excuse a momen- tary glance to merits in a department hi- therto unnoticed. Canova, like all great 1 The Count Cicognara. LIFE OF CANOVA. 497 artists, excelled in portraits ; and strictly speaking, though these did not enter into his range of professional pursuits, yet indi- vidual likenesses from his chisel, in monu- ments, statues and busts properly so call- ed, are by no means rare. In this branch he possessed the true ideal and poetic feel- ing — that exaltation of mere material art, which in the features gives back the im- press and character of the soul within. Of this excellence his own head is a won- derful example — while in other respects, it is also one of the most beautiful colossal portraits ever sculptured. Many attempts by others had previously been made : still in these something was wanting : the linea- ments were there, but the animating prin- ciple — the spiritual intelligence that gave dignity to features which though fine were not otherwise striking, had escaped. Hence he conceived the idea of representing him- self at the moment, when the soul kind- ling with divine enthusiasm is following out some noble conception. This design completely succeeded ; — the mind of Ca- 2 i 498 LIFE OF CANOVA. nova could alone be sculptured by its kind- red hand '. The winter of 1821-22, the last of his life, was passed by Canova in even more than ordinary diligence. Numerous works were finally completed, some commenced, and many merely designed. Among other labours, he was at this time engaged on a stupendous equestrian statue of Ferdinand, the reigning sovereign of Naples. This piece was to be of bronze, and the model 1 Of all the portraits of Canova, examined by the author, our own Jackson's comes nearest to the intel- lectual character of the bust in question, — and conse- quently to the true expression of the individual. — Faber's, which has been so much celebrated on the Continent, is brisk and lively, more like the charac- tei of his own countrymen, than the sedate and be- nevolent enthusiasm of the Italian sculptor. The medal from which the head in this volume is taken, is also a copy of the colossal bust, with such altera- tions as the lapse of time rendered necessary. This medallion was considered as the most striking likeness of Canova in the latter part of his life : from it the original drawing was carefully executed by the author's own hand, and to his sketch every justice has been done by the engraver. LIFE OF CANOVA. 199 of the horse being then finished, it was re- quisite to repair to that city, in the month of May, in order to superintend the construc- tion of the wax-moulds preparatory to the fusion of the metal \ The climate of this part of Italy had always proved unconge- nial ; while through continued application and occasional attacks of slight indisposi- tion, his frame was already debilitated. A general tendency to disorder, especially in the functions of the stomach, was thus in* 1 This, with the exception of the modelled equestrian statue of Napoleon, is the largest work of the kind in Europe ; but a fatality seems to have attended these productions of Canova. The first was not com- pleted when the fortunes of Napoleon were reversed, — his throne was ascended by Lewis XVIIL, and his steed, modelled by Canova, was more lately mounted by Charles III. of Naples ; while the second never proceeded further than the model of the horse. Be- fore the author left Rome in 1823, the Court of Naples had invited a general competition of artists to com- plete the latter work, the best model of Ferdinand's figure to be preferred ; but as one of the competitors, and an intimate friend, pertinently inquired, — Adesso ove si troveranno i guidici onesti vale a dire, — liberi ? 2 i 2 500 LrFE OF CANOVA. duced, and he returned languid and dis- heartened, with strong indications of what is technically named dyspepsia. In Rome, his drooping spirits seemed to revive ; and during the three subsequent months, though far from well, he was enabled with little intermission to pursue all professional avo- cations. Early in September, he set out on the annual visit to Possagno, hoping to derive benefit from the exhilaration of the journey, and from the change of air. These expectations were the more sanguine, that his indisposition had been ascribed to lan- guor arising from the extreme heat of the season, the summer having continued un- usually sultry throughout Italy. On the 17th of the same month our in- valid reached the place of destination, — but alas ! health was not in the breeze of his native fields. Indeed the malady had gained ground during the journey, which, notwithstanding weakness, had been prose- cuted in the usual hurried manner ; for re- gretting the time occupied in travelling as lost, he constantly moved with the utmost LIFE OF C A NOV A. 501 expedition. Here the friends who had not seen him since the preceding autumn, were but too sensible of his attenuated form, and generally altered appearance — symptoms of decay, less obvious to those who had daily enjoyed his converse. But he seemed desirous of diverting his own as well as the attention of others from the subject, replying to anxious inquirers — Adesso starb bene, " I shall presently be well" — with a gentle pressure of the hand, or a melancholy smile, the unconscious feeble- ness of which was inexpressibly affecting, and forbade indulgence of the hope it was kindly intended to convey. Du ring the whole of his stay in the country he re- mained always active, superintending the builders, making short excursions, and ta- king the waters of Recoaro, from which he had formerly experienced relief *. To- wards the end of the month, his health ap- 1 Among others he visited the Count Collalto, and the Abbate Boschieri, Principal of the College at Tre- viso, &c. Recoaro is at no great distance from Pos- sagno. 502 LIFE OF CANOVA. pearing on the whole to be improved, he began to think of returning to Rome. Pre- paratory to this, he resolved to spend the first of October at the villa Falier, — a spot endeared by youthful recollections, and by a whole age of friendship. Here a few friends had assembled to meet him ; — the day passed in the most agreeable manner, Canova's cheerful conversation diffusing a charm around which, with his looks of re- novated strength, rendered him the centre of more than ordinary attraction. The events of his juvenile years were recalled with animated pleasure. He fondly lin- gered in every favourite haunt, where half a century before had been indulged the first romantic dreams of youth, — and it was on this day, as formerly mentioned, that he expressed so deep an interest in viewing the works of his early master Torretto \ If these incidents appear trivial, let it be remembered, that they mark the last day of health and of enjoyment to him, who 1 Falier — Paravia. See Chap. III. LIFE OF CANOVA. 503 was never indifferent to the welfare and the happiness of others. The traveller, conscious that a mournful issue awaits the termination of the journey, may be par- doned if he linger by the way — if he as- cend every elevation which allures with the promise of less gloomy prospects, — or often stop to admire the flowers that bloom in his path : So also, the biogra- pher of the virtuous dead, will naturally wish to dwell on the bright activities of existence — to expatiate on the fleeting hours, which still connect his subject with the annals of time, — and to retain, as it were, the pure example in the world. These symptoms of convalescence pro- ved transitory and delusive. Canova had scarcely bid adieu to the SignorFalier,when his disorder returned with augmented vio- lence r ; he nevertheless persisted in the determination of leaving Possagno, and on the 4th arrived in Venice, with the inten- tion of remaining some days before finally 1 It is even stated, that Canova with difficulty reach- ed Possagno, although only at a short distance. 504 LIFE OF CANOVA. departing for Rome. But here the progress of disease could no longer be withstood ; and having retired to the house of his friend Francesconi, on the right of the Piazza di San Marco, whose hospitable roof he con- stantly preferred to more splendid man- sions, he was at length obliged to take to his bed, which hitherto had been strenuously avoided. On this day was also written the last note ever signed by his hand ; — it was addressed to the friend whose bust is precious as the last creation of his chisel, and runs thus : " My health continues as usual — perhaps is worse than it was : for a few days I thought it improving, but I was mistaken : it is to be hoped the jour- ney to Rome may restore me. I would fain embrace you once more '." With the lapse of time, the disorder continued gradually to increase, the sto- mach refusing to retain the smallest por- tion of aliment ; nor could the powers of medicine, administered with the address of 1 Count Cicognara, to whom this note is addressed, was then near Yicenza. LIFE OF CANOVA. 505 science and the tenderness of friendship, allay an internal convulsive affection, which greatly added to the sufferings of the pa- tient \ The pulse, however, continued regular, and the senses unaffected to the last ; while amid this complicated distress, Canova was never heard to complain, but exerted himself in calming the alarm, and soothing the grief of the weeping attendants by whom he was surrounded. Nor was it in the chamber of the sick alone, that a feeling of the deepest sor- row prevailed ; it affectingly declared his worth, to behold a crowd of all ranks besetting the entrance to the house where he lay, eager to learn the state of his health. Such were his perfect calmness and resignation, that the danger appear- ed not so imminent as it really was, and even by his most intimate friends, hopes of recovery were entertained, to use their 1 Canova's principal medical attendants were Sig- nors Aglietti and Zannini, both eminent in their pro- fession, and his intimate friends, the former particu- larly so. 506 LIFE OF CANOVA. own expression, " quasi al ultimo sospiro" almost to the latest breath. When at length it was deemed necessary to put him in mind of arranging his affairs, the announcement was received with the ut- most composure. His earthly concerns were declared to have been long put in or- der, and he now only reminded his brother that the full completion of the Temple at Possagno must be provided for. He also mentioned certain works in terms which shewed that the hope of renown is not dis- regarded by, or may even be grateful to the departing spirit ; in particular, he re- joiced that in his latest, improvement might be traced, and that all those for which money had been received in anticipation were finished. This latter circumstance seemed to shed unmingled satisfaction over his deathbed, and to it he more than once reverted. The morning of the 12th passed as usual without any very apparent alteration, but towards noon the disorder evidently threat- ened a fatal crisis, and the strength of the LIFE OF CANOVA. 507 sufferer appeared to be rapidly decaying. It was therefore judged highly expedient to prepare his mind for the last change, and Signor Aglietti was requested to under- take this melancholy duty. Canova recei- ved that declaration of his friend and phy- sician which forbade all hope, with the most unmoved serenity and pious resigna- tion. " Ecco" he merely replied, " noi veniamo a questo mundo a far la nostra ri- vista — e poi — sic transit gloria mundi" — " We come into this world to play our part — and then — vanishes the glory of the scene ;" — after a pause, adding in a tone of joyful confidence — " Beato, beato die Vha fatto bene" — * Thrice happy he who has performed it well." He then confessed himself with the deepest contrition, and af- terwards made a second verbal codicil to his will, again enforcing the continuance and completion of the Church atPossagno \ This was at five o'clock ; and in the course of the evening the last and most solemn 1 To this codicil, Aglietti and Arrigoni, and Signor Gamba were witnesses : being reduced to writing, it has already been quoted. 508 LIFE OF CANOVA. rites of the Catholic communion were admi- nistered, in which he participated with a sincerity and an ardour of devotion, which edified, while it melted even to tears all present. The soul now loosened from all earthly ties, was absorbed in holy medita- tion ; at the same time the bodily strength was so entirely exhausted, that scarcely a movement indicated the presence of life ; — yet the lethargy affected only the vital functions, the powers of the mind remain- ed unimpaired, as was attested by the short sentences of lofty piety, or of practical vir- tue, which were occasionally addressed to the friends who ministered at his couch. Of these sentences it was observed that he more than once repeated : " Prima di tutto convienfare il proprio dovere ; — ma prima di tutto" — " First of all we ought to do our own duty ;" — " but," added he in the last repetition with surprising emphasis, " but first of all." When entreated to take a few drops of restorative, he replied that it was in vain, but immediately subjoined in the kindest manner, Date pure } die cos) LIFE OF CANOVA. 509 mi prolungherb il ben di star con voi ; — " Yet give it me, that so I may prolong the hap- piness of being with you ;" and to those who moistened his parched lips, he gently said, " Buono, buonissimo — ma e inutile" " "Tis kind, very kind — but it is vain." Du- ring the last half hour of mortal existence, those looks of languor which shew that ani- mation is — yet is not, brightened into sacred effulgence, — and the countenance became radiant with sublime expression, as if the soul, cheered by heavenly influence, had collected fresh energies as it approached the bosom of its God. Thus must he have looked, when conceiving his pure and per- fect works ; — but in such an awful pause, even the immortal light of genius must have been dimmed, had not the reflection of a well-spent life, added to its failing fires the never-fading brightness of Christian hope. His sorrowing friends were still standing around in deep emotion, when his dying lips moved with rapid earnest- ness, and the words, anima pura e bella — " pure and amiable spirit," were several 510 LIFE OF CANOVA. times distinctly pronounced in quick suc- cession. These were the last audible sounds, and he calmly sunk to rest, with- out a struggle, — almost without a sigh. Thus, having nearly completed his 65th year, seventeen minutes before eight on the morning of Sunday, October 13. — " the angelic heart of Canova palpitated for the last time, and his celestial mind was closed for ever to its lofty concep- tions V The day following, on opening the body, the proximate cause of death was ascertain- ed to have been a paralysis of the stomach, promoted by the scirrhous state of the py- lorus, by which the passage of the aliments into the intestinal canal was almost entire- ly prevented, — and further aggravated by a derangement of the bilious system, the biliary sack being decayed, and the ducts everywhere filled with calculi of various 1 " II cuore angelico di Canova palpito per l'ultima volta, e la di lui mente divina si chiuse per sempre a* suoi sublimi concepimenti." Gazzetta di Venezia, October 14. 1822, written by Zannini. LIFE OF CANOVA. 511 sizes. The lungs were also found to be slightly adhering to the pleura. The more remote origin of disease seemed to have been laid in too close an application to pro- fessional pursuits ; this evidently appeared from an external depression of the right breast, occasioned by bearing against the head of the trapano, — an instrument of iron constantly employed by sculptors in work- ing. There can be little doubt, therefore, that the arduous exertions of Canova, par- ticularly in his youth, when by personal ef- forts alone, he accomplished the most ex- tensive works, finally shortened his life, and prematurely deprived the world of his rare talents l . The body was afterwards enclosed in a coffin of lead, and the whole placed in an external covering of larch, simply but rich- ly ornamented. Preparatory also to inter- ment at Possagno, their place of final re- 1 The original report, the length of which prevents its insertion, is signed by Drs Aglietti and Zannini, and by Surgeons Pezzi and Rima, all well known as the most distinguished professional men in Venice. 512 LIFE OF CANOVA. pose, Venice decreed to honour these re- mains in public and solemn obsequies. Ac- cordingly, on the third morning after de- cease, the bier was conducted to the Ca- thedral by the eleves and professors of the Academy, — who alone were deemed pri- vileged to fulfil the hallowed duties of re- lationship to him, whose life had been de- voted to the arts, who had left neither children nor pupils, yet whose scholars might be said to compose the surviving generation of artists. In this venerable pile, one of the earliest efforts of modern art, the relics of its great restorer were supported on a temporary cataphalque, and the Patriarch in person celebrated the religious service *, At these mournful so- lemnities, — the Governor, the members of the Municipality, the Associates of the In- stitute and of the Athenaso, — all, in fine, distinguished in arts, in letters, or in rank, officially attended ; while the frequently moistened eye proclaimed that this was no 1 Giovanni Ladislao Pyrker, Patriarch of Venice, was also the private friend of the sculptor. LIFE OF CANOVA. 513 heartless ceremony. The multitude of all ranks — occupying not only the broad nave and darkened corridores of St Mark's, but even filling the wide piazza, stood reve- rently bending and uncovered as the coffin was slowly borne along. Over this vast concourse prevailed the stillest silence — broken only by the awful pealing of the requiem, or the deep whisper of the re- sponse. Each in the common deprivation seemed to mourn a private calamity ; and in contemplating the intrinsic — the inex- clusive glory of departed talent, all appear- ed to be impressed with feelings of subli- mity like the sacredness of devotion, that equalized distinction, yet elevated — not de- pressed the moral grandeur of humanity. To the demonstrations of general respect, the Venetian artists were farther desirous of adding the tribute of their peculiar re- verence and individual sorrow. The pro- cession therefore continuing its progress by water, the remains of their revered mas- ter were placed in the great hall of the Academy. This spacious apartment was 2 K 514 LIFE OF CANOVA. crowded with an assembly of many hun- dreds, the most distinguished in Venice. The walls were hung with black, and a- round were suspended drawings or engra- vings of Canova's works, — so numerous that they might well have been deemed the labours of successive periods, and of a race of sculptors, — not the productions of one short life — the creations of a single mind. These were distinctly illuminated, while the central space remained in shadowy gloom, — a solitary funereal torch placed at the head of the bier alone throwing its so- lemn and emblematic fires around. This lonely light burned on an antique bronze, that for many centuries of freedom and of empire, had been employed to collect the votes in the grand council of the Venetian Senate. Among other memorials of her ancient greatness, this had been preserved from the withering grasp of foreign despo- tism and unsullied by profaner service, until it thus graced the obsequies of him, who in his own has bequeathed to Venice a glory of which she can never be despoil- LIFE OF CANOVA. 515 ed. Surrounded by objects thus affecting- ly connected with the present and the past, the President delivered an oration in ho- nour of the deceased, fraught with the no- ble eloquence of truth. He spoke of his matchless talents, — enumerated his splen- did performances, — extolled his meritori- ous exertions ; but when, in describing the amiable qualities of his heart, he touched upon his constancy and sincerity in friend- ship, — unable to proceed, the speaker pau- sed, overcome with emotion. What a pause was this ! — One spontaneous, and universal burst of responsive feeling sup- plied the void which eloquence could not fill, and deeply proclaimed the accordant sorrow of the sympathising auditory. — Shade of Canova ! In this hour so glorious to thy memory, thou didst rejoice, that even thy transcendant genius was forgotten, and thy virtues alone remembered. How truly great, — how sacred is his renown, whose powers the sage contemplates with admiration ; and on whose grave the Chris- tian drops the pious tear immingled with 2 k 2 516 LIFE OF CANOVA. the bitterness of doubt, — unchecked by the sigh of regret. The day was far advanced, when the be- loved remains were finally consigned to a deputation of ecclesiastics from Possag- no ; and darkness closed around before they had passed the peaceful waters of the Adriatic. " The hour of nine has struck," thus writes a distinguished prelate from Postioma, the nearest landing place, to a friend in Venice, " and the arrival of the barge is announced. Filled with religious impression I have just visited the bier of the great man : this night the train re- pose here, — to-morrow they set forward by dawn , ." Early on the 17th, the pro- cession accordingly reached its destination ; and notwithstanding the rain descended in torrents, multitudes joined, particularly on the approach to Possagno. The grief of those simple, but warm-hearted people, was expressed in a manner hardly to be ima- 1 Letter of Guiseppe Monico, who has since been created Bishop of Possagno, out of respect to the me- mory of Canova, and esteem for his own merits. LIFE OF CANOVA. 517 gined by more indurated sensibility : they bathed the herse with tears, — kissed it again and again, — and even threw them- selves on their knees before it, as to some- thing consecrated \ During the interval, the body lay in state with a pomp which grandeur might envy, and which wealth could not emulate, — in a temple raised by piety with the fruits of genius ! The 25th being appointed for the last mourn- ful offices, such numbers, even from re- mote distances, assembled, that the church could not contain them, and a discourse by the prelate mentioned above was de- livered in the open air a . It required no efforts of oratory to touch the heart, when evidences of the religion and benevolence of the deceased every where met the view. The magnificent edifice, now nearly ter- minated, — the flourishing village, already greatly improved, — the individual grati- tude of many, — the universal respect of 1 Monico — Paravia. Private Letters. 2 On this occasion various inscriptions in Latin were suspended in the church ; — their length prevents their insertion. 518 LIFE OF CA NOVA. all, powerfully aided the speaker ; and amid the tears of this concourse of his countrymen, the mortal remains of Canova were consigned to their parent dust. Nor were these passing tributes of esteem, which however sincere only em- balmed his memory in the recollection of the living, deemed sufficient. Immediate- ly after his demise, the Venetian artists, as the natural guardians of his fame, entered into arrangements for erecting a cenotaph to Canova ; and that it might at once be a most noble monument, as also exclude all jealousy or rivalship, his own model for the tomb of Titian was selected , . This con- sists of a pyramid with gradini leading to the entrance, on which are placed colossal figures of the sister arts, Sculpture veiled, entering, — Painting and Architecture fol- lowing, — a Lion reposing completes the 1 See Chap. VII. The Venetian Academy also ob- tained the heart of Canova ; and for this precious de- posit, an elegant little monument, consisting of a vase of porphyry, with appropriate ornaments and inscrip- tions, has been erected in the hall of the Palace of the Arts. LIFE OF CANOVA. 519 group, and above is the bust of the Sculp- tor. Public subscription presented the only means of carrying this design into execution ; and that all might have an op- portunity of paying homage to a name which belonged more to Europe than to any particular country, no restrictions were permitted. So liberal were the contribu- tions of all the heads of the European powers, either personal, or by their repre- sentatives then sitting in congress at Ve- rona ; and so ardent the zeal of all, that the funds were soon in a condition to per- mit of commencing the work. But not to Venice alone were public de- monstrations of respect confined. Many other cities emulated the pious example ; among which Florence and Rome were principally conspicuous. In the latter, — his second country, — his most cherished home, the memory of Canova was revered with corresponding devotion. A statue, as the highest tribute of admiration and of gratitude was decreed to him ; — he was proclaimed perpetual President of her chief Academy, as if futurity could only 520 LIFE OF CANOVA. produce one worthy of being second to him;— and his death was subsequently solemnized with such magnificence, that months were required for the preparations. This pomp of public ceremony, however, the splendour of these monumental erections, are less affecting — as they may be deemed more equivocal proofs of worth, than the deep and general impression occasioned by his loss. This feeling extended not merely to Italy — it was diffused through- out Europe '. When the melancholy event occurred, the author was in a distant part of Italy ; but wherever he went, in what- ever society he happened to be placed, all seemed to lament, not only a public bene- factor, and a man of genius, but to regret a private and respected friend. // buon Canova e morto — the good Canova is no more, was intelligence first repeated as weighing most heavily on the mind of the speaker — as touching most nearly the af- fections of the hearers. His name and 1 Cicognara — Missirini — Paravia — Rossini — Fa- lier, and the public prints of Britain, France, and Germany. LIFE OF CANOVA. 521 his virtues created a bond of sympathy and of fellowship between those who till that hour had never met, and who part- ing the next, found in their mutual ad- miration of these a cause of common es- teem. With all their characteristic enthu- siasm for eminence in the arts, by which his countrymen are distinguished, they ap- peared still more to prize his moral excel- lences. These were indeed of the highest order, and of the most extensive operation — but on this delightful part of our subject, a few observations must suffice. In these respects to enlarge on the merits of Cano- va would produce a practical comment on the chiefest virtues that adorn our nature ; and to particularize individual instances, would be to trace the business of every day of his life \ 1 In Venice, during the course of the winter follow- ing his death, two volumes of poetical tributes, compo- sed on that occasion, were republished in a collected form. Of these it was once intended to give some ex- amples, but want of room prevents ; and their chief merit, also, with few exceptions, is derived from the subject commemorated. 522 LIFE OF CANOVA. Benevolence the most generous — the most disinterested, formed a distinguishing trait in the character of our Canova. Nor is this quality the less to be esteemed, that its most beneficial and permanent effects were judiciously limited to those depen- dant on, or connected with the arts — a class of his countrymen more directly thrown upon his bounty ; and whose too often merely nominal gains only seem to exclude them from want, while frequently their keener temperament, or more exqui- site sensibility add bitterness to the mi- series of poverty. To mitigate these evils, to support aged or decayed artists, to alle- viate the miseries of their orphans and widows, to assist and mature the unbroken energies of youthful talent, — all his pen- sions without reservation, and the greater part of his income, were devoted. Nor was this benevolent disposition the virtue which gives from superabundance ; it was a vital and animating principle constantly direct- ing his actions from the moment he had wherewithal to bestow. During the early LIFE OF CANOVA. 523 progress of the Sculptor, we are informed by the Signor Falier, that he himself was often the instrument through whom the scanty earnings of so much toil — and then even of precarious hope, were divided to the poor of Possagno and of Venice. As the means of doing good augmented, this generosity increased in extent and in ac- tivity ; he seemed to consider himself on- ly the steward of his wealth ; and even some interference, as is observed by Cicog- nara, was required to prevent him from thus embarrassing his affairs. He might have been among the richest individuals in Italy — he died merely in affluence, and his brother became the distributor, rather than the inheritor of his remaining proper- ty. In that dreadful season, when Rome, in the power of a foreign enemy, beheld her sovereign a captive, her nobles by ex- actions reduced to beggary — her museums plundered — and enlightened travellers pre- vented from approaching her walls, no class suffered so severely as her artists ; whose resources were thus completely in- tercepted — and they were absolutely ex- 524 LIFE OF CANOVA. piring of want in their deserted work- shops \ Canova, at this period, appeared like a ministering angel. He enabled the youth, by pensions, to persevere in their studies ; and the more advanced he sup- ported, not with money, but by judiciously employing the most necessitous in making highly finished drawings and engravings of his own works, for which the most liberal prices were allowed. He also established 1 The French, to do them justice, were superior to the present oppressors of Italy, in as far as an en- lightened but selfish despotism is superior to a selfish and ignorant one ; — but we must not be deceived; they did oppress, and they plundered Italy, particularly the Papal states: in 1811 especially, the state of the capi- tal was even worse than is represented in the text. We shall be told of their patronizing the arts — Canova and perhaps one or two others had something to do ; but what became of numbers less known, and to encourage whom would have given no eclat ? We shall be told of their excavations in Rome ; — an English gentleman in the improvement of his estate removes more surface in one year than they did in seven. Perhaps their admi- rers consider as improvements, the converting the Ro- man Forum into a dusty promenade, and planting a shrubbery round the Colosseum! LIFE OF CANOVA, 525 an extensive engraver's press, for the pur- pose of publishing these works, and to give employment in that department ; in short, by very considerable sacrifices, with the noblest disinterestedness, and in the most soothing manner, he supplied the wants of all. It was by such acts of public munificence, and by innumerable instances of private benevolence, that his memory was rendered so dear to his country ; — it was this universal usefulness which inspi- red such inconsolable regret for his loss. He had already lived long enough for glory, but it was felt, that for the sake of virtue he should never have died. Of this bene- ficence one instance will be sufficient ; and from the disposal of the three thousand crowns, which as Marquis of Ischia he enjoyed, the general mode of expending his fortune may be appreciated. Of this sum, the Academy of Archaio- logy obtained an annual provision of 600 Annual pensions to three Roman youths, or of the Papal states, students in the first classes of sculpture, paint- 526 LIFE OF CANOVA. ing and architecture, to be enjoyed three years, by monthly payments of 20 crowns, - - 720 Three annual premiums of 120 crowns each, to be decided by competition of young artists ', 360 Annual present to the Academy of St Luke for the purchase of books, &c. - - 100 Subsidy to the Academy de' Lincei, 10 crowns per month, - 120 Annual fund for the relief of poor artists, - - - 1100 That this latter fund might be impartially administered, it was placed under the ma- nagement of a committee of five professors of the Academy. The general distribution is also to be admired. The Antiquarian Academy was of recent establishment, and its means consequently limited, at the same time its objects were important ; the two others required no such encourage- ment ; while more than two-thirds of the 1 The successful works to remain the property of the Academy of St Luke. LIFE OF CANOVA. 527 whole sum is devoted to the relief and support of individuals. A mind thus awake to the duties of uni- versal philanthropy, in the retirement of private life, was feelingly alive to the sym- pathies of gratitude and friendship. In- deed, in a heart which all the virtues ap- peared to constitute their temple, these latter shone as the presiding divinities. Every evidence of attention, — every proof of attachment, which it was thought would gratify the living, or denote respect for the dead, Canova delighted to exhibit. His letters — the history of his works — his eve- ry action and sentiment, declare this dispo- sition. His purse — his chisel — his interest were always at the command of those with whom he lived in habits of intimacy. Of the young men, says one of his friends ', whom I recommended to his notice, there was no one who did not receive the desi- red assistance ; whether of employment, of advice, or of money ; one youth alone, of 1 The younger Falier. 528 LIFE OF CANOVA. much talent, but poor, for more than two years had an annual pension of 320 crowns. Such charities were independent of his more public gratuities ; of which several instan- ces have fallen under the author's own knowledge. Many of his productions were originally given as presents ; and of his most beautiful sepulchral marbles, several were voluntary offerings at the shrine of friend- ship ; while those to the memory of Falter and of Volpato bear inscribed the obligations of the dedicator. The former being his first protector, to whose early care were ascri- bed his future successes, was regarded with peculiar reverence ; and as if testimonies of this respect ought to be multiplied, the original cenotaph was always retained at Rome, placed in a conspicuous situation in the workshop, and casts sent to various academies. An English lady of rank \ ac- quainted both with the Falier family, and with the artist, also states, that in visiting the studio of the latter, he would often in- 1 Lady William Bentinck. The anecdote rests on the best authority, that of the younger Falier. LIFE OF CANOVA. 529 termit his labours to converse with her on the kindness,the excellent instructions, and the personal worth of his " good Father," as he was wont to term the aged Senator. Of the generous protection which, during the difficulties of his early career in Rome, was extended to him by the ambassador Zulian ; as also of the valuable patronage experienced, during the same time, from the Marchioness Gentili — Lord Cawdor — Sir William Hamilton — and Prince Rezzo- nico, Canova ever retained a truly grateful remembrance. At that arduous period Gavin Hamilton was his constant Mentor, to whose encouragement and advice he continued through life to ascribe much of his future eminence, constantly styling him — " il buon Hamilton." More lately, a- mong the most intimate of Canova's living friends, are to be ranked — Antonio d'Este the sculptor- — Antonio Selva, a relative of the architect already mentioned — the Che- valier de Rossi, so well known by his works in literature and the arts — Professor Rosini of Pisa — Giordani of Bologna, distinguish- 2 L 530 LIFE OF CANOVA. ed by his writings both in verse and prose f — Missirini, already known to the reader — the younger Falier — Count Roberti of Bassano — Count Cicognara of Venice — and M. Quatremere de Quincy of Paris. With the four last mentioned, and with the heirs of Professor Bossi, the painter of Mi- lan, will principally be found the letters of Canova. But to particularize every in- stance, — to give the names of the nume- rous individuals of rank and talent, or eminent in learning and taste who have enjoyed an intimate correspondence with the Subject of these memoirs, would en- croach too far upon their limits — suffice it 1 He has promised Memoirs of Canova, and even made some progress in the work during the life of the artist, — but on this subject, Italy has been encouraged to hope for interesting accounts from the pens of Gior- dani — Cicogna — Countess Albrizzi — and Sartori Ca- nova ; yet nothing has yet come to light. Count Ci- cognara has also given some grounds for expecting a more detailed account than is afforded by his elegant little memoir written on the spur of the occasion, and seems, of all others, the best qualified to do the sub- ject justice. LIFE OF CANOVA. 531 therefore to know, that a favour conferred upon Canova was never forgotten; and that no man of genius, or of worth, once intro- duced to his regard, ever ceased to be an esteemed friend. In the expression and maintenance of his friendships also, there were apparent an affectionate simplicity and delicacy of mind and an unworn freshness of sentiment — the kindly overflowing of a soul, unhackney- ed in the prescriptive modes of the world, and ever youthful in its affections, which won more and more upon the heart The Sculptor of the most magnificent works of modern art, — he whose powers drew upon him the admiration of Europe, would sit down in the most endearing singleness of good will to carve a medallion or cameo, or other little ornament, as a pledge of re- membrance for some absent friend. The portraits of those most dear to him were also carefully collected, whether sculptured by himself, or painted by his order ; " for," as he used to say, " seating myself in an apartment thus decorated, it is only think- 2 l 2 532 LIFE OF CANOVA. ing over our past conversations, or reflecting on their virtues, and I am as it were trans- ported into the society of all my friends at once." Manv of these likenesses were like- wise sculptured by his own hand in a most exquisite manner, which were set in rings, and constantly worn by him, — as if he wished always to have before his eyes the images of those he loved. But on this subject it will be gratifying to peruse his own sentiments, expressed in one of his early letters, and with an idiomatic and unaffected simplicity that would be lost in a translation ; even the verbal inaccuracies will be viewed with interest, as exhibiting a great mind bewildered in a medium of thought to which its powers are unused : " Mi spiace a doverle dire cosa ne volesse fare del ritratto del mio buon Padre (per- doni Tespressione), perche non ho ancora fatto cio che voleva. Ma non per negarle il suo desiderio le diro, che 1'ordinai in proffilo perche la mia intenzione si e di fare un bassorilievo di un soggetto deco- roso, e in quello porvi il ritratto de' miei LIFE OF CAXOVA. benefattori, tra i quali uno de' primi posti lo deve avere certamente l'eccell. Padre suo. Ecco la mia idea. Ma veggo che forse prima di portarmi a situare la memo- ria del procur. Emo non potro aver tem- po di modellarlo ?•" The artist here states his intention of composing a basso relievo on some elevated subject, and to introduce under the different characters, the portraits of his principal benefactors, — a design which the increasing numbers of these in- duced him to exchange for the affectionate methods mentioned above. This gratitude to protectors and patrons was equally remote from servility and adu- lation, as it was opposed to overweening sensitiveness of independence, or absurd pretensions to equality. Canova, in his intercourse with the great, never forgot that talents as an accomplished artist had alone procured distinction ; while his bear- ing, modest and respectful, yet shewed that he was disposed neither to arrogate 1 Canova to Falier, from Rome, Dec. 20. 1794. 534 LIFE OF CANOVA. groundless claims, nor to sully his genuine and honourable rights to respect. His in- dependence was displayed in freedom of judgment — in candour of sentiment, not in petulant assumptions, or in eccentricity of disposition which courtesy may tolerate, but never pardons. This true dignity of mind marked his whole course of action, and was displayed in a strict regard to ve- racity and justice, whether in morals or in art, however contrary to the wishes or the proceedings of those by whom his opinion was desired. Not to descend to minor in- stances, — In frequently discoursing with Napoleon, he fearlessly reprobated the out- rages committed in Italy ; maintained the rights of the Pope, then a prisoner in France; boldly remonstrated against the removal from the public museums of objects of art ; and subsequently in Rome, refused to attend the French commissioners, who plundered under the pretence of purchase, private collections, because his former estimates of valuation had not been regarded. To his own Sovereign, the mild and amiable Pius, LIFE OF CANOVA. 535 we have seen how affectionately he was at- tached ; and their intercourse was conduct- ed with all the sincerity of private friend- ship. These ties, death hardly seemed to interrupt. The Pontiff contributed large- ly to honour the memory of the Sculptor, while the latter bequeaths to his Holiness a pledge of esteem, in the following kind and respectful terms : " Alia sacra per- sona del Santo Padre Pio Papa VII. 9 ogget- to qualunque della mia eredita che possa es- sergli grata ;" granting the privilege of se- lecting from his whole possessions what- ever might prove the most agreeable. Thus inspired by all its higher charities, the soul could hardly remain untouched by the softer sensibilities of the heart. Ac- cordingly, it appears from his own confes- sion, that Can ova was early and feelingly susceptible of the influence of love. This sentiment ever exists purest and brightest in the most generous breasts ; his attach- ments were consequently always honour- able ; but one master-passion, to which love itself was subservient, engrossed every 536 LIFE OF CANOVA. thought, — the desire of renown. Hence, though twice on the eve of marriage, he never entered into that state ; fearing, as his friends assert, lest he should thus, by domestic cares, be diverted from giving undivided attention to professional pur- suits. In the story of his earliest love, if a juvenile and vague aspiration may be so termed, there was something of romantic and melancholy interest, which seems long to have shaded with perceptible colour- ing his future musings. While pursuing his studies in the Farsetti Palace, on first arriving in Venice ', he one day beheld a female, somewhat older than himself and very beautiful, enter the gallery accom- panied by a friend or attendant, who daily departing soon after, returned again before the hour of closing, leaving the former to pursue her studies which chiefly consisted in drawing from antique heads. Chance first placed the youthful pair near each 1 See Chap. IV. It is very common for the youth of both sexes devoted to the arts, to pursue their stu- dies in tj,ie same collection, and at the same hours. LIFE OF CANOVA. 537 other ; and some secret excellence hither- to undiscovered, subsequently determined him constantly to select as models such subjects as brought him nearest the fair artist. Time thus rolled away, and the youth found his bosom penetrated with new — delicious — but ^indefinable sensa- tions. He knew not why he wished to be near her, — or why he delighted to gaze on her mild and lovely countenance — so pale, so delicate, yet so full of feeling; — nor could he tell why the furtive glance was so often directed to her sylph-like form and graceful movements ; — but he felt that with such a being he should be for ever happy — although incapable of defining his ideas of that happiness. One day the object of this silent adoration was absent ; — another and another passed, still she did not appear. Antonio was inconsolable — but he shrunk from inquiry, for he feared that every one already possessed the secret of his thoughts. Many days elapsed in this un- certainty, during which he was indefati- gable in study ; for she had once, while 538 LIFE OF CAXOVA. leaning on the shoulder of her companion, praised his work as being assai hello ; — words never forgotten ! though answered only by a silent obeisance, and he hoped again to attract her notice. At length the attendant again appeared — alone and ha- bited in deep mourning ; — the heart of the youth failed at the sight, but summoning courage as she passed in departing with a portfolio, he ventured to inquire for her friend. La Signora Julia, replied she, bursting into tears, — is dead: No more was asked, and nothing more said. Who Julia was Canova never knew: — but her name, her image, long remained engra- ven on his memory. He was then enga- ged under Ferrari on the statues which still embellish the villa Trepolo, near Carbona- ra. How irksome must the labour bestow- ed on these stiff-mannered and uninterest- ing figures have been to his ardent imagi- nation, glowing with the enthusiasm which his feelings were then calculated to in- spire ! The incident, in fact, aided in the formation of more elevated conceptions ; LIFE OF CANOVA. 539 he longed to realize in the perfection of art the beauty he had unconsciously loved. Even in after life, when labouring to unite the purity of angelic charms with the soft living forms of mortal loveliness, fancy reverted to early impressions, and clothed in her vivid hues, the young — the beautiful — the unfortunate Julia. Modesty has ever been regarded as an inseparable characteristic of great talents. Under a seeming moderation in the esti- mate of one's own merits, however, much of intellectual pride may frequently be dis- covered, the selfish and engrossing opera- tion of which produces the very humility we admire. But the modestv of Canova was the genuine offspring of pure single- ness of mind, and of extensive and cor- rect views ; it was consequently equally conspicuous in the artist as in the man. There are two methods by which we are enabled to judge of our own progress ; comparison with what has been accom- plished by others, and by considering the perfection still remaining unattained. No 540 LIFE OF CANOVA. man of real genius can be ignorant of the extent of his superiority in the former in- stance ; while the greater that genius, the more deep will be his sense of inferiority in the latter. The Sculptor of Possagno, therefore, affected not to deny or to under- value the improvements which his exer- tions had been instrumental in effecting. But with that true modesty that spares the feelings and the self-love of others, while it also benefits knowledge, by attri- buting the eminence acquired to causes equally within the control of all ; he con- stantly maintained, that any one who la- boured with the same diligence, and ob- served the same course of study, would ar- rive at the same excellence. iC My mas- ters," he used to say, " have been Nature and Antiquity. These are open to all, and appreciable by all. The only merit I can justly claim, is perhaps to have first recall- ed attention to these true sources of beau- ty and sublimity." To simple and judi- cious praige of his works he still listened in silence; but if a panegyrist extolled LIFE OF CANOVA. 541 them for refinement of elaborate composi- tion, or subtilty of remote allusion, he constantly disclaimed all such intention ; saying with a smile, " Indeed, my friend, you give me credit for greater ingenuity than I possess. I merely endeavoured to express, by the simplest means, the most natural and obvious thoughts on the sub- ject." Avarice of fame — desire of honour, were the dominating passions of Canova's mind ; yet, when enjoying the intoxicating objects of his ambition, and to an extent unpre- cedented in the annals of art, the native simplicity and modesty of his disposition he retained unimpaired. Enrolled among the Nobility of several states, decorated with orders of Knighthood by different princes, and associated in the highest pro- fessional honours, he still remained among his friends the gentle and unassuming be- ing as in the outset of life \ His private 1 The following are some of his honours : Marquis of Ischia, Noble of Asolo, which rendered him a Pa- trician of Venice, — Citizen of the republic of San Ma- 542 LIFE OF CANOVA. habits, indeed, eminently partook of the unostentatious plainness of his general cha- racter. He rose early, and bent his whole attention during the day to professional la- bours. Mixing little in public society, he usually spent his evenings at home, having always a few chosen friends to dine with him, whom he entertained with great cor- diality, but without any pomp or unneces- sary display. From inclination, which ha- bit, and the necessity of nursing a preca- rious state of health, had reduced almost to abstemiousness, he was extremely mo- derate in the enjoyments of the table. But after even these frugal repasts, a short re- pose was always requisite, his powers of digestion being so feeble, that the slightest rino, — Knight of the order of the Golden Spur — of Christ — of the Aulic order of Leopold — of St George of Russia — of the two Sicilies, — Commander of the or- der of the Iron Crown, — Inspector-General of the fine arts in Rome, — President of the Vatican commission — of the Academies of St Luke and Archaiology, — as- sociate of the National Institute of France, and Pen- sionary member of that of Italy, — Associate of all the most celebrated Academies of Europe, &c. &e. 8c c. LIFE OF CANOVA. 543 exertion of body or mind materially de- ranged them. His friends were therefore careful to introduce after dinner light and agreeable conversation, which might amuse, without agitating his mind ; and in this Canova joined with the utmost cheerful- ness. If, however, any subject connected with the arts were mentioned, or of a na- ture otherwise calculated to interest deep- ly the feelings, so keen were his percep- tions, and so lively his sensibility, that the system certainly suffered from this excess of mental activity. After thus spending in the bosom of friendship the close of each day, the conversation becoming gradually more serious and animated as the evening advanced, he retired before eleven to his apartment ; and either immediately sought repose, or amused himself with a book, or more frequently with his pencil, and at such hours many of those beautiful sketches were composed, some of which have al- ready been published under the title of Pensieri. To describe one day, is to de- lineate the whole life of Canova, so equa- 544 LIFE OF CANOVA. ble its tenor, so regular his habits, and so confirmed his industry. In personal appearance Canova present- ednothing remarkable, or to attract regard; and in this respect, his maturity did not correspond with the promises of early youth. His stature hardly exceeded the middle size; but his person slender and ele- gant in its forms, seemed to exceed the actual height. At the same time, though thus far from being of athletic propor- tions, his frame was muscular, and appa- rently possessing no extraordinary vigour, yet, like Michael Angelo, he could sur- pass any workman in the mere mecha- nical labours of his profession. His hair was black and curled in natural luxuriance round a forehead of the noblest dimen- sions ; but the outline of his features, in their calm and ordinary state, was by no means strikingly grand or imposing. His countenance owed its attractiveness and its powerful beauty entirely to facility of expressing the workings of the mind. The formation of the neck, the marking of the LIFE OF CANOVA. 545 muscles, and their junction with the head and bust, were also singularly fine, — beau- ties, which his usual careless mann er of loose- ly tying the handkerchief, permitted in part to be seen. It is remarkable, that in these respects his statues are wonderfully perfect, and the neck of his own bust in particular, is a frequent study with artists. Few men are so totally devoid of personal sin- gularities as was Canova. His air, his manner, even his dress, bore the appearance only of unaffected benevolence and sim- plicity, over which an extreme modesty threw no formality or constraint. The stranger might thus have departed without carrying away any other impressions, save those of cordial respect and esteem ; yet even in casual conversation — some trait of lofty feeling, or of original thought — some striking evidence of a mind sometimes de- ficient in the ordinary sources of conven- tional judgment, but taking its own novel and comprehensive grasp of the subject, would unconsciously break forth to betray the commanding intellect, and to impress 2 M 546 LIFE OF CANOVA. the speaker on the memory. Into the do- mestic circle he carried all the mild and gentle virtues which distinguished his pub- lic character ; and in all the relations of social life he was exemplary. His dearest friend, for more than twenty years the sole companion of his journies, and the confident of his designs, was his Brother ; while on his demise, the only other sur- viving relative, Sig. Dominico Maniera, for the illustrious name of Canova must now become extinct, enjoys the remain- ing fortune of the artist. To his mother Angelina Zardo, though attached by none of the endearing recollections of child- hood, he ever proved dutiful and kind ; and on her death in 1812, he consecrated to her memory one of his most admired cenotaphs. In professional intercourse with other artists, Canova was eminently distinguished by the same moral qualities that regulated his general conduct. Generous from na- tural disposition, and severely just in the self-estimation of his own proper merits, LIFE OF CANOVA. 54' he was totally insensible to the mean pas- sions of envy and jealousy — those exacer- bations of overweening egotism, or of im- becile mediocrity. The progress of art, through the successful achievements of others, seemed to afford the same pleasure as if accomplished by his own exertions. Of the talents and performances of cotem- poraries, he consequently spoke with the utmost candour and liberality. Carrying this disinterestedness to a still higher pitch, his personal assistance and advice were al- ways at the service of those who desired their aid ; and he would at all times leave his own studies to visit the work of any ar- tist expressing a wish to have his counsel or opinion ; nor did their frequency dimi- nish his willingness of attention to such calls. Not to receive pupils, however, was a resolution from which nothing could induce him to deviate ; and not a single instance can be cited, where a scholar, in the strict sense of the term, boasts of hav- ing derived instruction directly from him, who must be considered as the Father of 2m 2 548 LIFE OF CANOVA. the living school. The motives in thus waving the responsibility, or the drudg- ery of tuition, may have been various ; the ostensible one as assigned by him- self was, " the fear of appropriating the reputation of those placed under him, whose excellences would thus be attributed to the master, — not to their own deserts." But though refusing to become the private instructor of individuals, to the interests of his workmen he always proved most friend- ly ; and when any one of these evinced de- cided proofs of superiority ; or when any young artist exhibited good capabilities, he found in Canova a willing and powerful patron, who by procuring or giving com- missions was ever ready to publish and to advance his merit. In forwarding the ob- jects of this beneficent patronage, the nu- merous busts of illustrious characters with which he adorned the Pantheon, now, since their expulsion thence, to be seen in the Museum of the Capitol, were executed by his order, and at his own private charge. Thus at once paying homage to departed LIFE OF CANOVA. 549 worth, and ministering to the necessities of rising talent. All these transactions were marked by that delicacy so grateful to the feelings, which even in giving advice con- ciliates our self-love, and in bestowing other favours doubles the obligation, while it les- sens the weight of gratitude. The Author was acquainted at Rome with a young ar- tist, who spoke of this amiable quality in his benefactor with the enthusiastic affection of one who had never felt the oppression of patronage. " Forbear acknowledgment," Canova would say, " you owe me nothing, — a man is honoured by countenancing me- rit ; and I only now perform a duty, be- cause fortune has enabled me to do so, which hereafter others will claim from 55 you. As regards the individual pursuits and private habits of study which distinguished the subject of these Memoirs, — to his conti- nued and unwearied industry their pages have frequently borne testimony. This ap- plication of a mind so highly endowed was attended with a corresponding improve- ment and extent, even in the accessory ac- 550 LIFE OF CANOVA. quirements of literature. Thus, a progres- sive advance not only in knowledge, but also in the facilities and even graces of compo- sition, (as is remarked by one who long en- joyed the pleasure of his correspondence,) may distinctly be traced in the letters of our Artist. These are seldom, if ever cha- racterised by lengthened or acute disquisi- tion ; but they are always pleasing from an expression of amiable sentiment, unaf- fected simplicity, and latterly beauty of style ; a marked difference in this respect being observable between the epistolary efforts of a later date, and those of early life. The former, without being less sim- ple or ingenuous, are written with correct- ness and elegance of language, while the previous ones abound in provincialisms and inaccuracies. The general acquire- ments of Canova were entirely those of an artist and a man of taste, — antiquities, — history, — and polite literature ; but with science, properly so called, either intel- lectual or physical, he must be consider- ed to have remained totally unacquaint- ed, save in such scattered lights as con- LIFE OF CANOVA. 551 versation had supplied. This is exact- ly as might have been expected, and per- haps as it ought to be. " Art," says Michael Angelo, " is jealous, and requires the whole man to herself." But in the really collate- ral knowledge now mentioned, his attain- ments were both accurate and extensive. The study of antiquity he pursued with ar- dour ; the Society instituted at Rome for that purpose owes its existence chiefly to his exertions, and what of their transactions have yet appeared were published principal- ly at his expense. In the same disinterest- edness excavations were carried on, and the more important remains thus uncovered, ju- diciously erected on the spot \ The valua- ble additions and improved arrangements introduced into the Museums of the Vati- can, and the Capitol, under his management, would alone sufficiently attest his judgment andhis taste. His reading had been both select and varied. In the early part of life the evenings were thus employed, — 1 As at Roma Vecchia in the Campagna, and along the Appian way. 552 LIFE OF CANOVA. a practice which subsequently continued occasionally to be pursued ; but common- ly some one read to him while he was at work, — cos) va bene in doppio, as his own letters have it : — thus good was doubled. The office of reader was usually supplied by some friend — happy thus to oblige him for the sake of enjoying his conversation in the pauses of labour. This amicable ser- vice he was in the habit of repaying by some little tribute of art ; and it was with no common feelings of pleasure that one of these gifts was viewed, — a portrait of a Venetian ecclesiastic, painted by Canova's own hand, and presented to the owner as a token of regard for having thus officiated in 1805, while the Sculptor was employ- ed on the statue of Madame Buonaparte \ The works most commonly perused were translations of the classical writers of Greece and Rome, with the most esteem- 1 The subject and owner of this portrait is the Ab- bate Tonello, now Maestro di Capella at Treviso. It is therefore a mistake that Canova did not practise painting after the year 1798. LIFE OF CANOVA. 553 ed authors of modern Italy. In select- ing from these, such writings were prefer- red which presented the subject under the most graphic aspect, and in the most sen- tentious manner. Hence, among the an- cients, Tacitus and Polybius were most valued ; while, among the Italians, Dante, Ariosto, and Machiavelli were the great- est favourites, as affording the richest and most decided pictures, or the most charac- teristic views of the times and events which they describe. In treating of the peculiar habits of com- position by which he was distinguished, or the aids to invention employed by Canova, it is to be regretted that modesty prevent- ed his committing to writing any theoretic opinions, or modes of practice connected with his art. That such a design was con- templated sufficiently appears from the following letter to Cicognara, written in 1812: — " It will no doubt be matter of surprise when I tell you, that I have not composed a single line on the subject of my art : I have indeed always intended to 554 LIFE OF CANOVA. do so, but the time for carrying my reso- lution into effect has never arrived; at some future period it may. I am deter- mined, however, to give observations on my own works, which may perhaps be ex- tended to sculpture in general, and to its few elements : but I could never be so vain as to think of composing a treatise. I shall confine myself solely to the princi- ples on which I have prosecuted my own labours, and nothing more." But though no writings of this accomplished Sculptor can thus be resorted to, yet its grand fun- damentals are clearly discernible from a careful examination of his style ; while his practical methods, and concise, luminous and valuable precepts are still retained in the memory, or even in the note-books of his friends. Authentic and ample sources of explanation, as of deduction, are thus supplied. From an early hour of the morning, his first studies, while the hand was steady and the mind vigorous, were dedicated to composition or to modelling ; afterwards, LIFE OF CANOVA, 555 during the latter part of the day, he occu- pied himself in working with the chisel, and in finishing his statues. Canova na- turally possessed an imagination of great energy, and industry had supplied a most copious store of materials : his invention consequently flowed abundantly, without effort, and almost spontaneously, his mas- terly hand being fully adequate to the ra- pid expression of these " thick-coming fancies." But over the rich treasures thus poured forth, the judgment presided in severe scrutiny : in correcting he was therefore slow and fastidious. First ideas were hastily thrown upon paper in slight outlines, which were often changed and retouched, so that finally little of the ori- ginal design remained ; yet each succes- sive alteration evidently appears an im- provement. Such primitive sketches were very frequently composed without any di- rect object in view, the artist esteeming a voluntary exercise, where the mind is un- fettered by apprehensions of the immediate consequences of its operations, favourable >a 6 LIFE OF CANOVA. to the creation of beautiful or novel con- ceptions. These loose thoughts, which he termed ozii, or " recreations," were care- fully preserved for future use ; and even in those already published, the germ, the embryo of more finished productions, or at least the suggesting train of combinations, is sometimes discernible \ Having at length satisfied himself with the design of any projected work, as it would appear in painting, his next care was to examine and recompose it, according to the principles of sculpture. The modelling tool was now substituted for the port-crayon, and the sketch transferred to wax or clay. In this first and smaller model, the composition was carefully studied in the arrangement of the individual parts, and in the general effect, every thing being determined with just precision. In this condition, with the 1 The Plates published at Rome in the spring of 1823, on which the observation in the text is founded, were Apollo and the Muses — Sports of Cupids with the Nymphs and Graces — Market of Love — Dancing Nymphs — and one miscellaneous subject. LIFE OF CANOVA. 557 masters anterior to Canova, it had serv- ed as the only guide in forming the sta- tue. With the latter, these were merely preliminary steps conducting to the full perfection of the real model, which was composed of exactly the same dimensions as the future marble, and completed with all the delicacy, beauty and truth, which skill, genius, and the constant study of na- ture could command. The Sculptor having thus effected the completion of a model, which he knew must prove an unerring and an exalted canon, the manual labour of the marble was safely and profitably confided to inferior powers. But, when its last superficies was to be formed — when all that finally meets the eye was to be created, the inspiring touches were trusted to the master-hand alone. Under this influence only could the figure assume all the silent attributes of beauty and of life, — all the effects of mo- tion save mobility, — all the sublimities of conceivable excellence, blended with the warmer sympathies of nature ! These lof- 558 LIFE OF CANOVA. tier graces of art, in all Can ova's works, are also united with a delicacy and minute- ness of finish, unimpaired by dryness or littleness of manner, for which elsewhere among the moderns we look in vain, and which, even in antiquity, appear to have been attempted in few instances. This exquisite purity of surface and lubricity of contour have given rise to the idea that this splendour and softness of polish were not produced by the legitimate operations of sculpture, but by some secret wishes or preparations. That such processes were employed by the Greek sculptors is by no means a singular belief ' ; and in the search of these he even instituted experiments, the results of which were either fruitless or disregarded. It is certain, therefore, that his statues owe their unrivalled soft- ness wholly to the use of the chisel and the 1 See the celebrated passage in Pliny, Lib. 35. cap. 2., where Nicias the painter is said, manum ad- Tnovisse, to have operated on the sculptures of Praxi- teles by means of a certain composition, or circumlitio, a word which has sadly posed commentators. LIFE OF CANOVA, 559 le applied by his own hand. When they had thus received their last finish, they were indeed frequently washed in a mix- ture of water and pumice-stone or emery, reduced to a very fine powder, which, by its different action or adhesion on surfaces variously polished, was supposed to anti- cipate the effects of time, diffusing over the crude brightness of recent labour an agree- able and harmonious colouring. Such were the external modes of com- position, such the practical methods of operating, and such the high perfection to which these were carried in the sculptures of Canova. But to penetrate beyond these — to ascertain the more intellectual principles that dictated their adoption, and regulated their exercise, we must view the artist both in his works, and in his pre- vious habits of self instruction. The con- nexion here constantly maintained will at once explain the cause and the extent of excellence. The education of Canova con- stitutes a phenomenon in the philosophy of art ; and as the effort solely of his own voli- 560 LIFE OF CANOVA. tion — as the fruit of his own judgment, would alone entitle him to rank among superior minds. In an age of mannerism he reverted to the study of nature, which in fidelity and beauty of imitation he car- ried nearly to its possible boundaries. To this consummate knowledge of material art, if the expression may be allowed, was subsequently added a profound acquaint- ance with the relations under which truth and imagination produce results sublime, graceful or lovely ; — and, lastly, to main- tain a mutual harmony and subordination between the Natural and the Ideal, was the scope, aim, and ultimate purpose in all his compositions. In progressively following out this glorious system, he was necessarily brought into familiar and constant inter- course with the only true sources of beauty, grandeur and sublimity in sculpture, — na- ture and the antique ; from each of which was derived one leading precept that chiefly directed his representation of form, and expression of character. In the former, he was the first to discover, or at least to re- LIFE OF CANOVA. 561 duce to practice, the trinary combination of constituent members in a whole; or that law of arrangement in the living, as in the inanimate world, seems to place beau- ty in the harmonious relation between a primary, and two secondary forms \ The delightful propriety, and just ordonnance of parts, devoid of all obvious symmetri- cal or artificial balancing of masses, so conspicuous in his statues, arise from the observance of this principle. The second precept was deduced from the antique, in which he found, that however dependent on the ideal, the grand or the beautiful might appear, — yet in certain points, — as the fleshy texture of the surfaces, — the equable swelling of the muscles, — and in the fugitive traits which infuse life and spirit into the composition ; na- ture was always imitated faithfully, with- out exaggeration or improvement. Hence, when others would have deemed the sta- tue invested with its utmost excellence, — 1 Cicognara, — Observations of Canova. 2 N 562 LIFE OF CANOVA. when he had fixed the lineaments of the most sublime intelligence which the divi- nity of his ideal could impress ; Canova, before finally dismissing the marble from his hand, carefully compared every part anew with the living form ; and, adding by slight but masterly touches of the chisel, those volatile traces of nature, — those eva- nescent effects of existence which the eye of genius alone can detect, — he seemed to call back the too lofty conception to hu- manity ; — and to veil the too daring pres- tiges of fancy in the humbler semblances of reality. It is this happy union of nature with imagination, — : this ceaseless remounting to the eternal sources of perfect beauty, and of true science, — these well-directed endea- vours to establish the basis of progressive improvement on the genuine and universal principles of art, which will most closely as- sociate the name of Canova with its future history ; and which have already placed him above every other master, from the age of Nicholas of Pisa, to the commence- ment of the nineteenth century. The great- LIFE OF CANOVA. 563 est sculptors, whose labours illustrate the intervening ages, either wrought without principles, and the same tomb thus closed over the knowledge and the possessor ; or were at most but founders of partial theo- ries, and exclusive schools. No one be- fore Canova possessed all the requisites of excellence, or had traced in practice a rule which conducted to general and undevia- ting results. By those who lived prior to the age of Julius, and of Leo, accuracy of imitation was the only essential known or practised. The artists of that splendid pe- riod combined the magnificence of elevated theory with forceful execution ; but in for- saking nature, they abandoned the true nurse of art, interrupted the march of im- provement, and conducted their successors into greater and more fatal extravagance. To all preceding masters, therefore, we can have no hesitation in preferring the Sculptor of Possagno ; whose works first exhibited the union of exalted principle, just expression, refined conception, and vi- gorous practice. 2 n 2 564 LIFE OF CANOVA. Compared with the ancients, Canova must ever remain inferior, in as far as the moderns must be indebted for their noblest precepts, to the examples of Greece. But his was no servile imitation, though to have constant- ly studied their works, forms his greatest praise. He laboured to discover the princi- ples from which flowed the perfections of ancient art, — these acquired, he rivalled the inventors in their application. The degree of this approximation is sufficiently evident from the circumstances, that the works in which direct imitation may be traced, can yet bear the comparison without disparagement, — while in those grand and novel inventions, for which antiquity fur- nished no guide, — no falling off is to be discovered. The beauties of Hebe, — of the kneeling Pontiff, — of the group of Benefi- cence, creations solely of original powers, are equally conspicuous with those of the Perseus, — or the Mother of Napoleon, the immediate prototypes of which are the Apollo and the Argippa. In absolute me- rit, then, Canova equals the masters of LIFE OF CANOVA. 565 antiquity in fidelity of imitation, — in na- tural expression, — in accuracy and purity of execution ; but he falls beneath them in sublimity and vigour of conception, — in the grandeur and vigour of his ideal, — and in that majesty of sustained character which lends to nature all the loftiness of blameless excellence in mind and form — yet leaves it nature still. When, however, we compare the perfection thus attained, with the previous lapse, — when we con- template art raised from a degraded and lost condition, to an equality in some re- spects with those ever deemed the noblest specimens, and exhibiting only a degree of infer iorityin others ; — when we view this improvement established on principles that must progressively lead to greater perfec- tion, — how must we admire him who, in one short life, begun in poverty, obscurity, and ignorance, effected by his single efforts, this glorious revolution ! Surely it is not exaggeration to affirm, that Canova is not only the greatest of all modern Sculptors, but is hardly to be ranked inferior to the 566 LIFE OF CANOVA. greatest names in the annals of ancient greatness. But, however this estimate of his powers may be modified by the vasodilations of o- pinion, or the vicissitudes of time ; there is yet an abiding distinction that invests the Subject of these pages with more real glory than genius and art, in all their boasted triumph, can bestow ; — it is the eminence of virtue. To soar beyond the usual limits of human capacity, — to call from their view- less spheres, or deep recesses, the secrets of philosophy, — to enchain sublime intelli- gence and perfect beauty in the creations of a mortal hand, are granted to few ; but all men may learn to be good, and all may emulate his benevolence. This freshness of the heart, — this tenderness of the affec- tions, when united with the mightiness of intellect, shed round the memory a soften- ed influence, and a bright utility perpetual- ly renewed : they resemble the cot with its little domain of cultivation, on the else sterile bosom of the Alp ; the grandeur of the latter, indeed, elevates the soul, — yet CANOVA. 567 overcomes it with a sense of awful vast- ness, and dreary solitude ; the latter gently brings us back to the sympathies of life, and soothes the mind with images of its kindliest charities. In describing the stu- dies of the Artist, therefore, it has been endeavoured to delineate the Man ; and those who may deny the merits assigned to the Sculptor, will respect the virtues, and admire the actions of Canova. CORRIGENDA. In some instances in Chapter V., for Clement XII., read XIII. The Author's distance from the Press will account for, and it may be hoped excuse, any slight inaccuracies in other respects. APPENDIX. APPENDIX. Chronological Catalogue, with the present Locali- ties or Possessors of all the Works executed by Canova, from the period of his settling in Rorn^ to the time of his death, that is, from 1780 to 1822. The dates, as affixed by himself, sometimes mark when the marbles, but most commonly shew when the models of the respective works were completed. 1781. Apollo crowning himself, — a small figure in marble. Baron Daru. 1782. Group of Theseus and the Minotaur. Count de Fries, Vienna. 1783. Statues of Piety and Meekness, in model. Studio of the Artist. 1787. Tomb of Clement XIV. The statue of the Pontiff is 13 Roman palms, and those of the Allegorical Figures 1 1 palms high. Rome, Church of the H. Apostles. Statue of a Cupid. The head was a likeness of the young Prince Czartoriscky. Princess Lugumirschi. 572 APPENDIX. 1789. Statue ofJaXupid, almost a copy of the preceding; — head ideal. Lord Cawdor. Group, in model, of Venus crowning Adonis, with Cu- pid bringing Flowers. Studio of the Artist. Psyche, — a statue in marble. Sir H. Blundell. 1790. Bassi Relievi, in model ; viz. Briseis delivered to the Heralds — Socrates drinking the hemlock — Socrates taking leave of his Family — Return of Telemachus — Death of Priam. Third Cupid, nearly as above. Latouche, Esq. 1792. Mausoleum of Clement XIII. ;— height of the Pontiff 19 palms ; of the Genius and Religion 15 ; Lions al- so colossal. St Peter's. Head of a Cupid. Germany, Prince of Ausberg. Bassi Relievi, in model ; viz. Procession of the Trojan Matrons — Dance of the Daughters of Alcinoos — So- crates pleading before the Judges — Crito closing the eyes of Socrates. 1793. Second Statue of Psyche. Royal Palace at Monaco. Group of Cupid and Psyche recumbent. Royal Palace of Compiegne, near Paris. 1794. Cenotaph of Chevalier Angelo Emo. Arsenal of Ve- nice. 1795. Group of Adonis and Venus, natural size. Geneva, formerly at Naples. Two Relievos in model, Education and Charity. Studio. 1796. Second Group of Cupid and Psyche recumbent. Prince Youssouppoff Statue of a Magdalen kneeling. Marquis Sommariva, Paris. Hebe, statue in marble. Venice, Casa Albrizzi. A Cupid with Wings. Prince Youssouppoff, Russia. APPENDIX. 573 1797. Apollo, a small figure, modelled in 1787 as a Cupid. Marquis Sommariva. Bassi Relievi in model ; viz. Rome writing round a Me- dallion — Dance of Venus with the Graces — Death of Adonis — Birth of Bacchus — Socrates saving Alcibia- des at Potidea. Cupid and Psyche, standing. Palace of Compiegne. Monument in Relievo of Bishop Giustianini. Padua, in the residence of the Congregazione di Carita. 1800. Cupid and Psyche, standing, — second group. Pur- chased by the Emperor of Russia. Basso Relievo in model, of the Deposition from the Cross ; — worked in marble by Antonio d'Este. This copy is in Venice. Col. Wadmanio. Perseus with the Head of Medusa, — statue in marble, and size of the Apollo. Vatican Museum. Creugas and Damoxenus, or the Boxers. Vatican Mu- seum. Colossal Statue of Ferdinand IV. King of Naples. Repetition of the Perseus for Countess Tarnovosky. Po- land. 1801. Repetition of the Hebe, for the Empress Josephine. Hercules destroying his own Children, — a Basso Relievo in model. 1802. Colossal Group of Hercules and Lychas. Turlonia Pa- lace, Rome. 1803. Colossal statue of Napoleon, — height 16 Roman palms. Duke of Wellington, a fine copy in bronze is in the Academy of Arts at Milan. 1804. Statue of Palamedes, in marble, semi-colossal. Villa Sommariva on the lake of Como. Model of an intended Monument for Francesco Pesaro. 574 APPENDIX. 1805. Bust in marble of Pius VII., presented by the Sculptor to Buonaparte. Bust in marble of the Emperor of Austria. Vienna. Monument of the Archduchess Maria Christina. Vienna ; the whole expense of this work amounted to upwards of L. 10,000 Sterling. Model in Relievo, for a monument to Alfieri. Studio of the Sculptor. Statue of Madame Letizia, mother of Napoleon. Duke of Devonshire. Venus Victorious, recumbent statue. Palazzo Bor- ghese, Rome. Venus coming out of the Bath. Palazzo Pitti, Florence. Two repetitions of this statue, one for the King of Ba- varia, another for the Prince of Canino. Theseus combating the Centaur, colossal group. Vienna. Nymph dancing. This statue was exhibited at Somer- set-house in 1823, and formerly belonged to Jose- phine, now (it is believed) in possession of the Duke Devonshire. 1806. Sepulchral Relievo of Countess D'Haro. Studio of the Sculptor. Sepulchral Vase, with small relievos for the Baroness Deede. Padua. Sitting Statue of the Princess Leopoldina Esterhazy. Vienna. 1807. Monument of Alfieri. Church of St Croce-Florence, e- rected by order of the Countess of Albany. Bust in marble of Pius VII., presented by the Sculptor to his Holiness. Bust of Cardinal Fesch. Rome. Bust of Princess Paulina Borghese Buonaparte. Rome. Two Statues of Paris, in Carrara marble, one finished in APPENDIX. 575 1807. 1813, now in possession of the Emperor of Russia ; the other completed in 1816, for the Hereditary Prince of Bavaria. Model for an Equestrian Statue of Napoleon. Model of a Monument to the memory of Lord Nelson. 1808. Cenotaph to the memory of Giovanin Volpato. Church of the Holy Apostles. Rome. Cenotaph for Count de Sousa; two originals were wrought at the same time, one of which is in Rome, the other in Portugal. Cenotaph to the memory of the Senator Falier. Venice. Cenotaph for Frederic Prince of Orange. Padua. Hector, a statue in marble, rather larger than nature, not quite finished when the Artist died, wanting the last polish. Statue of the Muse Terpsichore. Marquis Sommariva, Paris. Replica of the above, with some slight alterations. Sir Simon Clarke. Bust in marble of the Princess of Canino. Bust of Paris, for the then Ambassador of France. 1809. Repetition of the Kneeling Magdalen. Prince Eugene, Beauharnois was the original possessor. Dancing Nymph, with cymbals. Prince Rossaumoffsky. Dancing Nymph, with a garland. Sig. Manzoni of Forli. 1810. Colossal model of a Horse. 1811. Sitting Statue of Maria Louisa, with the attributes of Con- cord. Palace of Colorno near Parma. Semi-colossal Statue of Ajax, companion to the Hector, and left in the same state. Both remained in the stu- dio of the Sculptor. 1812. Colossal Bust of the Sculptor. Sitting Statue of the Muse Polymnia, originally begun as- 576 APPENDIX. 1812. a ponrait of the Princess of Lucca, (Maria Eliza) sub- sequently finished in 1817, as an ideal work, and pur- chased by the Venetian States, for the Emperor of Aus- tria. Cabinet of the Empress. Vienna. Bust of the Princess of Lucca. Statue of Peace, finished in 1815 for the Russian Count Romanzoff. " Three successive heads of this family had negotiated grand treaties of peace. Bust of Murat while King of Naples. the Queen of Naples. (Murat's.) Cenotaphs for two members of the Millerio family. Villa Gernetto, Milan. Cenotaph to the memory of the Sculptor's Mother. 1814. Statue of Hebe, third repetition. Lord Cawdor. The Graces, — a group in marble, ordered by Josephine, subsequently completed for Prince Eugene. Palace at Monaco. The Graces, — a replica with alterations. Duke of Bed- ford. Bust of Cimarosa, the musical composer. Museum of the Capitol. Paris, presented to M. Quatremere de Quincy Paris. Helen, presented to the Countess Albrizzi. Ve- nice. a Muse, presented to Professor Rossini. Pisa. — another Muse, lately belonging to the Countess of Albany. another Muse for Count Pezzoli. Bergamo. Replica of Paris. Hereditary Prince of Bavaria. Peace, for Lord Cawdor. Colossal Bust of Bossi, the painter, now on his monument at Milan. APPENDIX. 577 1814. Colossal model for a Statue of Religion. The idea in this composition is very little different from that of the same figure in the monument of Rezzonico. Statue in marble of the above. Lord Brownlow. Cenotaph to the memory of Chev. Trento. Vicenza. Recumbent Nymph listening to the lyre of Love. In the possession of liis Britannic Majesty. 1816. Venus and Mars, group in marble. In the possession of his Britannic Majesty. Hebe, fourth replica. Count Guerini, Forli. 1817. Sepulchral Monument for Cardinal York, with busts of the three last Stuarts, in mezzo relievo, — erected in St Peter's by order, and at the expense of his present Majesty. A sitting Statue of the infant St John the Baptist. Count Blacas. Four Ideal Heads. England. Ordered respectively by Lord Castlereagh, Sir William Hamilton, Sir Charles Long, and the Duke of Wellingfvr 1 Of these heads, two are repetitions of the Helen. Two Ideal Heads. In the possession of M. de Quincy and Count Sommariva. Monument in small dimensions, with relievos of Angels supporting a medallion portrait of a Lady. Milan. Sitting Statue of Washington. New York, forwarded in 1820. Statue of Venus, executed in marble in 1820. This sta- tue is quite different from that of the Palazzo Pitti, and in character approaches nearer to the Venus of the Capitol than to the Medicean. Thomas Ilope, Esq. Colossal Statue of Pius VI. kneeling. St Peter's. Model of a colossal Statue of Charles III. of Naples, in- tended to be placed on the colossal horse modelled for Napoleon. •2o 1818. 578 APPENDIX. Sepulchral Relievo for Sig. Manzoni of Forli. 1819. Model for a Statue of a sleeping Endymion, the statue begun, but not finished at the death of the artist. Statue of a recumbent Magdalen, finished among the last works of the sculptor. Earl of Liverpool. Model of a Statue of Dirce. Herma, (that is a bust with tho marble cut square from the junction of the neck with the shoulders,) of Corin- na. Count S. di Crema. Herma of Tuccia, the vestal virgin. Webb, Esq. another Vestal Virgin. a Philosopher. Sappho, a repetition of the same as a bust. Bust of Laura. Duke of Devonshire. « Beatrice. Count Cicognara, Venice. Eleonora d'Este (Tasso's). Count Tasio, Bres- Repetition of the Helen, — always the same. 3820-21. Second colossal Horse, but differing from the former, intended for a statue of Ferdinand. Sleeping Nymph, model. Bust of Maria Louisa. Parma. 1822. Pietain model, — group of the dead Christ, with the Vir- gin Mary and Magdalen. Seven Relievos for the metopes of the Temple at Pos- sagno : viz. Creation of the world, — Creation of the first man, — Death of Abel, — Sacrifice of Abraham, — the Annunciation, — the Visitation, — Purification of the Virgin. These were copied in marble by seven Venetian sculptors ; the models are in the Academy. Bust of Count Leopold Cicognara. Venice. THE END. RETURN TO: CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 198 Main Stacks LOAN PERIOD 1 Home Use 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS. Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. Books may be renewed by calling 642-3405. 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