by George Sand.
Translated for Howitt's Journal
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William & Mary Howitt) vol.2 #42 (16 Oct 1847).
At sunset I found myself on the summit of a crest of rocks; it was the last of the Alps. At my feet stretched Venetia, immense and dazzling by its light and its vast extent. I had emerged from the mountains, but towards what point of my course? Between the plain and the peak from which I gazed, stretched a fine oval valley, protected on one side by the sides of the Alps; on the other, raised on a terrace above the plain, and sheltered from the sea winds by a rampart of green hills. Directly beneath me was a village, planted on the declivity in picturesque disorder. This poor hamlet is crowned with a vast and beautiful temple of marble, quite new, of dazzling whiteness, and seated with a proud air on the top of the hill. I do not know what was the exact idea personified, that this monument at the time struck me with. It seemed to have the air of contemplating Italy, spread before it like a map, and from that point commanding it.
A workman, who was quarrying in the marble of the same hill, told me that that church, of Pagan form, was the work of Canova, and that the village of Possagno, seated at its foot, was the birthplace of this great sculptor of modern times. "Canova was the son of an old quarryman," added the mountaineer; "he was originally a poor labourer, like myself."
How often has Canova seated himself on that rock, where he himself reared a temple to his own memory! What looks has he cast on that Italy which has decreed him so many trophies! on that world over which he has exercised the peaceful royalty of his genius, by the side of the terrible royalty of Napoleon! Did he desire—did he hope for his glory? When he had cut out and cleared away a part of this rock, did he know that from that hand, accustomed to rude work, should proceed-all the gods of Olympus, and all the kings of the earth? Could he divine this new race of sovereigns who were to come to light and seek immortality from his chisel? When he had the eyes of the youth, and perhaps of the lover, for the beautiful mountain girls of his valley, could he imagine such a thing as the Princess Borghese in nature's own dress before him?
The valley of Possagno has the form of a cradle; it seems made for the birthplace of the man who issued from it. It is worthy of having served as such for a genius; and one can conceive the sublimity of intelligence unfolding itself with ease in a country so beautiful and under a sky so pure. The clearness of the streams, the warmth of the sun, the strength of the vegetation, the beauty of the human form in this part of the Alps, and the magnificence of the far-off views which the valley commands from all parts, seem made expressly to nourish the loftiest faculties of the soul, and to excite the most noble ambitions. This kind of terrestrial Paradise, where intellectual youth can bloom with all its spring sap about it; this immense horizon, which seems to appeal to the present, and to summon up thoughts of the future; are not these the two chief conditions for the fulfilment of a beautiful destiny?
The life of Canova was fertile and generous as the sun which shone over his birthblace. Sincere and simple as a true mountaineer, he always regarded with a tender affection the village and the poor cot in which he was born. He had it very modestly embellished, and he went to rest there in the autumn of his annual labours. He then delighted himself with designing the Herculean forms of the peasants, and the truly Grecian heads of the girls. The villagers of Possagno say, with pride, that the chief models of the rich collection of the works of Canova have come from their valley. It is enough to pass through it, to detect there at each step the type of the cold beauty which characterises the statuary of the empire. The chief attraction of these mountain girls—and precisely that which the marble cannot reproduce—is their freshness of colour and transparency of skin. It is to these that can be applied, without exaggeration, the eternal metaphor» of lilies and roses. Their eyes have an exceeding clearness, and an uncertain shade, at once green and blue, which is peculiar to the stone called aqua-marine. Canova particularly loved the delicious softness of their fair hair, abundant and heavy. He painted them himself, before copying them, and disposed of their tresses according to the various forms of the Grecian statue.
These girls have generally an expression of sweetness and naiveté, which, reproduced with finer lineaments and more delicate forms, have been able to inspire Canova with the delicious head of Psyche. The men have the colossal head, the prominent forehead, hair thick and fair—eyes large, lively, and bold—the face short and square; nothing thoughtful nor delicate in the physiognomy, but with a frankness and boldness which recall the expression of the antique statues.
The Temple of Canova is an exact copy of the Pantheon of Rome. It is of beautiful white marble, traversed by red and rose-coloured veins, but soft and already mouldering by the frost. Canova, with a philanthropic aim, had erected this church with the view of attracting a concourse of strangers and travellers to Passagno, and thus procuring some additional trade and income for the inhabitants of the mountain. He intended to make it a kind of museum of his works. The body of the church was to be surrounded by sacred subjects, the product of his chisel, and the galleries were to be devoted partly to the reception of profane subjects. He died before he was able to accomplish his purpose, leaving considerable sums behind for the completion of the work. But although his own brother, the Bishop Canova, was charged with the superintendence of the building, a sordid economy or a monstrous bad faith has presided over the execution of the last wishes of the sculptor. Excepting the fabric of marble, on which there was no further time to speculate, his executors have most sordidly attended to the necessity of filling it. In place of the twelve colossal marble statues which were to occupy the dozen niches of the cupola, there are erected twelve grotesque giants, which an able painter has ironically designed, it is said, to revenge himself on the sordid shuffling of the directors of the undertaking. Very little of the sculpture of Canova adorns the interior of the monument. Some bas-reliefs of small size, but of a most pure and elegant design, are incrusted round the chapel. You have seen them at the Academy of the Fine Arts at Venice, and regarded them with admiration. You have seen there, also, the group of Christ in the tombs, which certainly embodies the coldest of Canova’s ideas. The bronze of this group is in the temple of Possagno, as also the tomb which contains the mortal remains of the sculptor; it is a Greek sarcophagus, very simple, and very beautiful, executed after his own designs.
Another group of Christ in his shroud, painted in oil, decorates the high altar. Canova, the most modest of sculptors, had pretensions to being a painter. He passed many years in retouching this picture, happily the sole child of his old age, and which, through affection for his virtues and respect for his glory, his heirs ought sacredly to preserve amongst them and enshrine in their tenderest regards.