A myth in the making (1863–1871)

In Novara in June 1861 the municipal council approved a resolution just a few days after Cavour’s death. The Mayor proposed the creation of a statue in Carrara marble, a budget allocation of 5,000 lire, and the launch of a public subscription to raise a further 5,000 lire.Footnote ³ The council’s allocation was supplemented by 3,451 lire from the seven lists of subscribers, later supplemented by further contributions. Of the seven sculptors who entered the competition, Giuseppe Dini was selected and awarded the commission in January 1862 (Panzetta Reference Panzetta1989, 68–69). Dini opted for a traditional iconography, portraying the statesman placing a pen on the table behind him, with his other hand in his pocket and in a reflective pose. The monument was unadorned, set on a simple pedestal. The result, reinforced by Cavour’s posture, was an official yet informal representation that evoked the image of an affable, straightforward man familiar to the people of Piedmont. Despite some delays, the work progressed rapidly: by April, Dini had already presented a scale model to the commission, which decided to install the completed statue on Corso Cavour, at the junction with Via Vittorio Emanuele II.Footnote ⁴ The monument was unveiled on 7 June 1863 in the presence of local authorities and the public, and marked by a civic celebration that lasted into the evening.Footnote ⁵ {Figure 1]

Figure 1.

Novara: statue in marble by Giuseppe Dini, 1863. (All photographs are by the author).

A very different iconographic approach characterised the statue commissioned by Genoese industrialists. Meeting on the very morning of Cavour’s death, the Ligurian city’s merchant elite did not hesitate to honour the memory of a man they considered one of the principal architects of Genoa’s economic development (Tonizzi Reference Tonizzi2011). Their admiration stemmed from this perception, and Cavour’s image as a statesman took second place to that of a successful entrepreneur. The local Chamber of Commerce secured the support of 168 merchants and appointed a committee, which included, among others, the entrepreneur Raffaele Rubattino and the collector Federico Mylius.Footnote ⁶ Once 30,000 lire had been raised, the commission was awarded without competition to the renowned sculptor Vincenzo Vela. The selection of a prestigious artist reflected the intentions and high expectations of the Genoese merchants, who intended to dedicate a true work of art to Cavour, executed in two-tone marble. The budget was itself noteworthy, as were the ancillary expenses, which included a commemorative parchment.Footnote ⁷

The work was inaugurated on 7 June 1863 in the presence of municipal authorities, local citizens and the prefect (Gualterio Reference Gualterio1863). To those in attendance, this representation of Cavour would have appeared rather informal: seated in an armchair with legs slightly apart, a pen in his right hand and a sheet of paper in his left bearing the words ‘Free Trade’, the Count looked directly at viewer. Slightly larger than life-size, the white marble figure rested on a marble pedestal in two colours. The artist intended to present an ‘intimate’ Cavour that would have been recognised by all those who had known him: an aristocratic man who seemed to be much more bourgeois than other exponents of the Piedmontese ruling class.Footnote ⁸ Vela’s sculpture depicted a modern businessman engaged in articulating the principles of economic liberalism. Not everyone was so enthusiastic. Among the critics were the Genoese Catholics, who disapproved of the presence in the city of a statue to that Camillo ‘Cava-oro’ (‘gold digger’) who had been an enemy of legitimate sovereigns. In the end, it was not the prayers of the clerical party that destroyed the monument, but rather the bombs dropped by Allied forces during an air raid on 14 November 1942 (Jaffe Reference Jaffe1955, 63–64).

As for the monument in Vercelli, a private company played a crucial role. The board of the Associazione d’Irrigazione dell’Agro all’Ovest della Sesia (Association for the Irrigation of West Sesian Farmland) expressed its support and discussed a donation of 25,000 lire in memory of the landowner who had revived the fortunes of his Leri estate and promoted the economic development of the province through innovative irrigation techniques. These included the project for the canal that eventually bore his name, as well as the company established to construct and manage it (Balboni and Gaddo Reference Balboni and Gaddo2011).Footnote ⁹ Thus the municipality’s tribute to Italy’s first statesman was joined by the homage of Vercelli’s business community to one of the principal figures in the economic life of the region. In total, the public subscription raised just over 37,000 lire.Footnote ¹⁰ National and local considerations were therefore brought together within the same representation.Footnote ¹¹ The municipality entrusted the statue of Cavour to Enrico Villa, while the figures of Agriculture and Commerce to be placed beside the base were assigned to Giuseppe Argenti.Footnote ¹² In the spring of 1864, workers installed the monument in the city’s main square, renamed Piazza Cavour, setting it atop a tall granite pedestal. It was an imposing composition: at its summit, the figure of the Count, dressed in bourgeois attire, was depicted giving a speech and with a scroll in his hand. At the base, the seated allegories of Agriculture and Commerce flanked the pedestal. [Figure 2] However, no one could see this impressive ensemble until the morning of 3 December 1864, when the statue was unveiled without any public warning.Footnote ¹³

Figure 2.

Vercelli: monument in marble by Ercole Villa and Giuseppe Argenti, 1864.

The patriotic mobilisation of June 1861 could hardly have passed without involving the city of Milan. Reviving an earlier idea for a monument to the ‘Provinces liberated’ from Habsburg rule, the municipal council reworked plans for the 80,000 lire it had estimated previously. A compromise resolved the debate between a realistic and an allegorical representation: a statue of Cavour ‘in effigy’, accompanied by symbolic and allegorical bas-reliefs below. Mayor Beretta issued a public announcement via a printed notice and opened the subscription campaign, enlisting the support of newspapers, charitable and public institutions, local organisations, and mayors from the metropolitan area. The community’s response was positive, with many private individuals also making donations.Footnote ¹⁴

After some discussion, the committee finally decided in August 1861 to invite individual artists – members of the Lombard school – to submit proposals. The city reviewed 11 sketches.Footnote ¹⁵ As in other cases, the submissions reflected similar approaches, and the historical-allegorical ideas for the pedestal were plentiful, sometimes veering into the baroque: personified allegories, congresses of Paris and meetings at Plombières populated the bas-reliefs, occasionally accompanied by decorative panels, coats of arms, and supports for fountains.Footnote ¹⁶

The winning entries were among the more restrained. In November 1861, the commissioners appointed Odoardo Tabacchi and Antonio Tantardini, two young but well-known figures in the Lombard artistic scene (Panzetta Reference Panzetta1989, 204–205; Mongeri Reference Mongeri1885, 298–300). Here too, the final result emerged from the fusion of two projects. Tabacchi was tasked with sculpting the statue of Cavour (3.6 metres tall), depicted in his official ministerial attire and holding out the scroll proclaiming the establishment of the Kingdom of Italy. Tantardini, meanwhile, was responsible for a second figure, that of History (2.1 metres), seated at the foot of the pedestal and engraving Cavour’s name with a stylus. Initially scheduled for delivery in May 1863, the monument required more time and ultimately cost 90,000 lire. By the spring of 1864, both statues, cast by the Papi Foundry and the Pirovano company, were complete, but the monument remained in a state of ‘precariousness and uncertainty’ due to a number of unresolved matters.Footnote ¹⁷

The inauguration took place in June 1865, on the day of the Festa dello Statuto (a holiday celebrating the Albertine Constitution) in the presence of the Crown Prince Umberto, local civil and military authorities, and a large crowd.Footnote ¹⁸ In the years that followed the female figure sculpted by Tantardini aroused the greatest curiosity, as it quickly took on an air of ambiguity. Lacking any clear attributes that would enable immediate identification, the depiction of History was soon mistaken for Italy, an error repeated for years to come in inventories, city guidebooks, and monument catalogues.

Similar cases can be found in the monuments of Ancona (1868) and Livorno (1871), created respectively by Enrico Chiaradia and Vincenzo Cerri, the histories of which cannot be discussed properly for reasons of synthesis (Fruci Reference Fruci, Ballini and Coppini2015).Footnote ¹⁹ Between these two inaugurations falls the significant work by Augusto Rivalta, sculpted for the then National Bank of Florence in 1870 (Corgnati, Mellini and Poli Reference Corgnati, Mellini and Poli1990, 84; De Gubernatis Reference De Gubernatis1906, 418–420).

The lack of sources makes it impossible to determine the timeline, commissioning process or cost of the Florentine work, which was commissioned by the city’s mercantile elite in homage to the Count for his contributions to Italian financial policy and commercial development.Footnote ²⁰ Carved in white marble, the monument is notable for Cavour’s posture and demeanour: Augusto Rivalta depicted the man dressed in contemporary attire, seated comfortably in an armchair, facing forward, legs crossed. In his left hand, resting on his lap, he holds a scroll; in his raised right hand, he lifts his distinctive spectacles, rendered in metal. Stylistically similar to Vela’s work, the statue conveys Cavour’s intimate, bourgeois character, translating into marble one of the iconographic models that would prove most enduring. Significantly, it is the only Cavour monument to include his most recognisable attribute – his glasses – whose metallic construction and placement in his hand served both to identify the subject and to give depth to his gaze. Praised for its likeness, the statue, with its natural rendering of form and the spontaneous posture suggesting a conversation with the viewer, belongs firmly to the tradition of ‘intimate’ monuments. These statues, located in interior settings, were perhaps better suited to the image of Cavour as an entrepreneur and businessman rather than the grand minister typically displayed in open, public spaces.

The Turin celebration

The events leading to the creation of the Turin monument were particularly complex. Intended to adorn Italy’s first capital city, the work attracted enormous expectations from the municipal government, the local citizenry, and the nation as a whole, and came to be seen as a major opportunity to give form to the myth of Cavour and establish a lasting iconographic tradition.

These implications were evident from the day of Cavour’s death, when Mayor Nomis di Cossilla called for a national public subscription aimed at all the moral institutions and private citizens of the country (Lanfranco Reference Lanfranco1996).Footnote ²¹ Once the proclamation had circulated and the project had been presented to the city council on 18 June, the initiative quickly gained traction: by mid-June, 40,000 lire had been collected, to which the council added a further 100,000 lire. In the following months, municipalities, provinces, institutions, schools, military units, guilds, and mutual aid societies from all over Italy sent their contributions, to which were added donations from Italians abroad.Footnote ²² Within a year, the total raised reached 500,000 lire, a considerable sum the management of which was entrusted to a committee appointed in July 1862 (Sassi Reference Sassi1873, 93–103).Footnote ²³ At the start of 1863, the committee published a call for submissions for the monument, to be erected in the central Piazza Carlo Emanuele II. A plan envisaged a sculptural and architectural complex centred on a bronze statue of Cavour. The municipality invited artists to submit sketches or models, with a prize of 4,000 lire for the winner and 1,000 lire for each of the other artists selected.Footnote ²⁴

The competition drew 124 entrants. Although some famous names were among the participants, the judging panel, chaired by Giovanni Dupré, a Sienese artist and member of the Accademia Albertina, found the proposals unsatisfactory.Footnote ²⁵ Initially, the jury favoured a model by Augusto Rivalta, but he was rejected because of his young age. The commission was instead awarded to the Neapolitan architect Antonio Cipolla, whose design was elaborate and rich with complex symbolism and allegory, structured on multiple levels and concentric bases.Footnote ²⁶ Cipolla agreed to supervise the overall work and proposed that Dupré be responsible for the sculpture of Cavour, with other accomplished artists producing the allegorical figures. The committee presented the proposal to the municipal council.Footnote ²⁷

The council rejected the project outright. Leading the dissent was Quintino Sella, who criticised the monument in its entirety. In subsequent discussions, more moderate positions emerged from other councillors who favoured a partial revision and offered more tempered judgements. Nevertheless, the committee tendered its resignation. Beyond aesthetic considerations, some observers saw the weight of municipal pride among the councillors in the face of a ‘national’ artistic project, which they interpreted as a threat to the memory of old Piedmont. The municipal council did not appoint a new committee until December and decided to dismiss and compensate Cipolla. The commission was entrusted to Dupré, who signed a contract in February 1865, committing to deliver the monument within six years (Dupré Reference Dupré1886, 380–385).Footnote ²⁸ In this way, the municipality resolved the crisis with a decisive change of direction, opting for a well-established artist already known to the public.

After years of work, by 1872 the monument was still incomplete, partly because of the complexity of the composition. Dupré’s design, still based on the original plan also featuring multiple figures, emphasised allegory, even transforming the figure of Cavour himself. No longer depicted in the modern dress of a Great Minister, the Count appeared as a classicised spirit from the beyond the grave, a sort of Dantesque Virgil who, wearing a Roman toga and holding a scroll bearing the inscription ‘a free Church in a free State’, supported a semi-nude, kneeling female representation of Italy intent on offering him a laurel wreath. At the base of the towering pedestal were other male and female allegorical figures in dynamic poses, representing Law, Duty, Politics, and Independence. The lower portion featured bas-reliefs depicting the return of Piedmontese troops from the Crimean War, and the Congress of Paris; and a frieze depicted the coats of arms of the Italian provinces alongside that of the Benso di Cavour family, and symbolic trophies. The statues were carved in marble, while the bronze bas-reliefs and decorative elements were cast by the Papi Foundry in Florence. In Piazza Carlo Emanuele II, a colossus of 14.2 metres would eventually rise – the paired figures atop the pedestal alone measured 4.35 metres (Lodi Reference Lodi1992, 181–185). The committee’s opinions on Dupré’s revised design remain unknown. Far from restrained, the final work was not so different from Cipolla’s original outline, whose allegorical content had in fact been confined to the pedestal. Dupré remained faithful to the spirit of that first vision, extending the symbolic apparatus to the entire composition and casting in marble the image of Cavour’s immortal soul. As an artist from Siena, the sculptor probably drew inspiration from the public monuments depicting the Grand Duke of Tuscany like a classical hero or an ancient senator – the statues in Livorno and Arezzo present evident similarities. [Figure 3]

Figure 3.

Turin: marble monument by Giovanni Dupré, 1873.

Before the inauguration, many observers believed that the monument to Cavour would exceed in beauty and magnificence the equestrian statue of the Duke of Savoy Emanuele Filiberto, sculpted by Carlo Marochetti in 1844. Postponed multiple times, the unveiling finally took place on 8 November 1873. For a few days Turin once again became the capital of the kingdom and a national tourist destination. Concerts, elegant dinners, and entertainment for dignitaries and the general public accompanied the ceremony.Footnote ²⁹ Despite a heavy autumn downpour, Piazza Carlo Emanuele II was packed.Footnote ³⁰ The unveiling, though warmly applauded, was met with a certain perplexity. The final result failed to meet expectations, primarily due to the overwhelming allegories. The meaning of the monument appeared to be unclear to many, and aesthetic and artistic criticisms, mostly unflattering, were rife, fuelling easy satire. The ‘ghostly’ Cavour, stripped of his familiar features; the scantily clad figure of Italy, supported by him in a provocative pose; and the enigmatic figures clustered at their feet: several ambiguous elements remained only half-visible through the rain.

After twelve years of waiting, the Cavour colossus was seen as a partial failure. Critics condemned Dupré’s monument in both content and form. The famous architect Camillo Boito scorned the figure of the Count, wrapped in a ‘bed sheet’, which clashed with the image of the modest, bourgeois Cavour. The portrayal of Italy as submissive was deemed offensive, and the press criticised the figures around the base for their poor execution.Footnote ³¹ Aside from the questionable aesthetics the journalists did not appreciate the diminished vision of Italy, who was almost dominated by Cavour (Campo Fregoso Reference Campo Fregoso1873; Grassi Reference Grassi1874). Dedicated, in the words of one critic, ‘not to the glory of a man, but to that of a deity’, the colossus seemed ill-suited to the pragmatism of the person it intended to celebrate.Footnote ³² The satirical press eagerly mocked the work, reproducing it and its figures in caricature.Footnote ³³

In the following days, the citizens celebrated with enthusiasm the monument to Massimo d’Azeglio proposed by Alfonso Balzico: a lifelike sculpture of an aristocrat that, after Cavour’s death, sought revenge on his political competitor.Footnote ³⁴ Eventually, the statue designed by Dupré was absorbed into Turin’s annual patriotic rituals, celebrated each year on 6 June, but it would henceforth be known locally as the Fermacarte – the ‘Paperweight’ (Lodi 1992, 185).

The Roman tribute

For many, the ideal culmination of posthumous celebrations in honour of Cavour would be marked by the erection of a monument in Italy’s definitive capital. The citizens of Rome had to wait. In 1888 and 1894 two other statues of the statesman were built and inaugurated in Italian provinces proposing a traditional iconography appreciated by the audience and the local establishment that wanted a ‘conciliatory’ celebration of the Risorgimento heroes. Though described by some as ‘simple, not to say poor’, the monument of Enrico Chiaradia, placed in a central square of Padua, was well received and became a lasting symbol of battle against the Church and the Austrian enemy, reactivated on local anniversaries relating to current events.Footnote ³⁵ In 1916, the city council added a commemorative plaque to the pedestal to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the Third War of Independence. Another statue in bourgeois attire designed by Pietro Capurro was inaugurated in 1894 in Santa Margherita Ligure, a small town on the outskirts of Genoa. Identified as the man who had brought Mazzini’s ideals to fruition, the Count was from the outset linked to the monarch, a clear endorsement of the king–prime minister pairing, as the minister Boselli underlined during the inauguration in August 1894.Footnote ³⁶ [Figure 4]

Figure 4.

Santa Margherita Ligure: statue in marble by Pietro Capurro, 1894.

Following in the footsteps of Turin, Rome too sought to honour the man who had officially prophesied its annexation to the Kingdom and its future glory. The idea of a tribute to Cavour dated back quite some time, with local patriots announcing as early as June 1861 their intention to raise funds for a monument to Cavour to be erected once unification was complete. Such ambitions belonged to a minority, and were unsuccessful in part because of the ongoing impact of the Roman Question. Nevertheless, the idea was not abandoned altogether, but merely postponed by a few years (Berggren and Sjöstedt Reference Berggren and Sjöstedt1996, 257–267).

After the annexation of Rome, the municipal council under Mayor Pallavicini rekindled the project and, on 26 February 1871, approved the erection of a commemorative monument dedicated to Italian unification in general, for which it allocated 100,000 lire and appointed a commission.Footnote ³⁷ Before long, this initiative was joined by a parallel effort aimed specifically at honouring Cavour, and the municipality of Rome launched two separate national subscriptions. The practical challenges faced by the new administration – such as the definition of a town development plan – caused both monument projects to stall. Only in January 1883 did the council, now led by Duke Leopoldo Torlonia, come back the plan. Given recent developments and the donations that had been received, it was deemed necessary to redefine the terms of the proposals and reassess the municipality’s financial commitments. The monument to Italian Unity was ultimately replaced by one to the recently deceased Victor Emmanuel II (the future Vittoriano), to which the council now allocated 80,000 of the originally pledged 100,000 lire. The remaining 20,000 lire, supplemented by 30,000 lire collected by the city council, were redirected to the Cavour project.Footnote ³⁸ The final site chosen for the statue was the newly developed Piazza Cavour in the Prati di Castello district, just in front of the future Palace of Justice. Located in one of the city’s newest neighbourhoods, built as a result of the 1873 urban plan, the tribute to Cavour should have stood as a symbol of modern, secular Rome, just a few metres from Castel Sant’Angelo.

The renewed interest in the monument found expression in an effort to solemnise the major stages of its realisation. On 9 January 1884, the same day as the opening of a pilgrimage to the tomb of Vittorio Emanuele, the city council published a call for artistic submissions. With a maximum budget of 300,000 lire, the municipal project was more ambitious than originally expected. The invitation, sent to all the fine arts academies in the country, called for a monument between 15 and 18 metres in height; in addition to Cavour, candidates were free to ‘develop their concept’ with additional figures, bas-reliefs, and symbols.Footnote ³⁹

Fourteen proposals were submitted. The commission awarded the prize to Stefano Galletti, a sculptor of Ferrarese origin who had long been working in Rome (Cecchelli, Censi and Gozzi Reference Cecchelli, Censi and and Gozzi1995; Panzetta Reference Panzetta1989, 79–80). His model revived the idealised personifications of concepts and ideals associated with Cavour’s legacy, alongside classical depictions of Risorgimento values. At the feet of the Great Minister – depicted in bourgeois clothing, with his left hand in his trouser pocket and his right arm extended along his side – stood two warrior women: Italy, holding a fasces, and Rome, seated beside her with helmet and shield. Flanking the pedestal were two young men symbolising Thought and Action; behind it, a roaring lion guarded the urn containing the Roman plebiscite votes (Berggren and Sjöstedt Reference Berggren and Sjöstedt1996, 224–226; Villa and Villa Reference Villa and Villa2024, 325–326).

It is not clear how the city raised the funds for such an important project, which the municipality probably commissioned thanks to additional grants and donations secured over the following months. In any case, once the contract was signed, the city council laid the foundation stone on 14 March 1884, the birthday of Victor Emmanuel II (Munzi Reference Munzi2015). The project was soon behind schedule. In 1890, an initial one-year extension was granted, and more followed due to further delays.Footnote ⁴⁰ By October 1894, only a few of the statues had been successfully cast.Footnote ⁴¹ The monument could only be considered complete the following summer, when the foundry finally delivered the statues of Cavour, Italy, and Rome.

The inauguration took place on 22 September 1895 at the tail end of the festivities marking the 25th anniversary of the capture of Rome. Symbolically and ritually, the ceremony offered an opportunity to honour Cavour in a spirit of national conciliation, placing him alongside Garibaldi as a central figure of the pantheon of the Risorgimento. Yet several factors undermined the event’s success. As is well known, the programme had been planned under the watchful eye of Prime Minister Francesco Crispi, who intended to promote a Garibaldian and anticlerical interpretation of the anniversary. As the new leader of the Sinistra storica, the Sicilian tried to exalt the idea of a popular revolution combined with devotion to the monarchy. The exclusion of the Moderate Party, which was a permanent opponent in the past, played an important role in Crispi’s political plan. Culminating in the unveiling of the Garibaldi monument on the Janiculum on 20 September, this apotheosis of a ‘revolutionary’ Risorgimento left little room for Cavour, or for any reconciliatory interpretation of Italy’s recent past (Porciani Reference Porciani1993; Tobia Reference Tobia1991, 143–148).

The spectacle offered on 22 September was less stirring. As contemporary accounts and photographs attest, the Roman public turned out in large numbers. From a practical point of view, the unfinished state of the square, full of construction work and scaffolding, was not helpful. To these material limitations was added the impression of a hastily staged and rather loose ceremony, set amid rubble and makeshift decorations.Footnote ⁴² Following the unveiling of Galletti’s work in the presence of the royal family, Prime Minister Crispi, the government, and several leading institutions, Mayor Ruspoli gave the commemorative address. His words were met with applause, and the public’s attention then turned to Crispi, who was expected to deliver a second speech, just as he had at the Janiculum. Instead, an unexpected silence fell across the square, leaving the authorities embarrassed: this was a striking move from the Prime Minister, whose ostentatious indifference toward Cavour said more than all the hostile words delivered by his opponents. The king himself had to intervene to overcome the embarrassment and bring the ceremony to some kind of close.

While the government press reported on it in neutral tones, the inauguration of the monument to Cavour dismayed Moderate supporters. In those days, the memory of the Destra storica was not very popular: the unveiling of the statue dedicated to Marco Minghetti, leader of the liberal conservatives in the 1870s and the 1880s, had no prominence among the celebrations. Hostile to Cavour by principle, Crispi was seen as the hidden saboteur of the tribute to the Weaver.Footnote ⁴³ Rekindling anti-government sentiment, the criticism and controversy soon turned into a climate of increasingly political hostility to the Sicilian. For some time, the construction work in the Piazza Cavour prevented the public from viewing the statue sculpted by Galletti. Although generally appreciated, some of the Moderate party’s opponents would later describe the Cavour monument as a ‘monstrosity‘.Footnote ⁴⁴ [Figure 5]

Figure 5.

Rome: bronze monument by Stefano Galletti, 1895.

The final tributes (1908–1913): towards a collective homage?

In Verona, the inauguration of statues dedicated to Victor Emmanuel II (1883) and Garibaldi (1887) made the absence of a similar tribute to the memory of Cavour all the more conspicuous. In 1890, the local Fratellanza Militare, a monarchist-liberal society, proposed the commissioning of a monument and the launch of a city-wide public subscription (Leone Reference Leone2015, 67). The initiative met with modest support from the community, which managed to raise around 6,500 lire over five years. Attempts made in 1895 to increase this amount proved unsuccessful.Footnote ⁴⁵

Four years later, a public call invited sculptors to develop a new version of a general proposal put forward by the engineer Giacomo Guglielmini. The city council called for a monument complex consisting of a statue of Cavour placed on a marble pedestal, adorned with a bronze eagle, a bas-relief depicting the meeting at Plombières, the coats of arms of the municipality and the province, and the emblem of the Fratellanza Militare. The site chosen was the central Piazza Montarone of Castelvecchio.Footnote ⁴⁶ The project was now backed by more reliable financial support: in addition to the 7,408 lire already raised, the municipality contributed 5,000 lire, King Umberto I offered 2,000 lire, and the province pledged around 5,000 lire.Footnote ⁴⁷ It is plausible to estimate the total expenditure at around 20,000 lire. Deliberations were not entirely painless, as shown by the critical stance of Catholic councillors who opposed a tribute to a supporter of anti-clerical policies.Footnote ⁴⁸

For unknown reasons, the competition proved a failure. A second artistic competition was held in 1902, followed by a public exhibition of the models.Footnote ⁴⁹ The judges awarded the commission to the Veronese brothers Carlo and Attilio Spazzi (Bertoni Reference Bertoni2017). The specific features of the two proposals are not known; in any case, the municipality did not confirm the final assignment until 1905. The approved design was simple: Cavour, clad in a heavy overcoat, stood atop a modest stepped pedestal, presenting a scroll with his right hand. A terse inscription ‘To Cavour’ was chosen for the front of the pedestal. The reverse read ‘Under the auspices of the Fratellanza Militare‘.

The city of Verona unveiled the work on 5 July 1908 amidst a burst of celebration. Significantly, the Radical deputy Giulio Alessio delivered a speech.Footnote ⁵⁰ His presence lent legitimacy to the inclusion of the Weaver within the broader Italian pantheon honoured by all the political cultures of the nation. At the feet of the bronze statue of Cavour a reconciliation of ideas took place, involving the various factions of the Risorgimento that joined the national cause. The Count’s ‘contribution to the cause of democracy’ and his superiority over the authoritarian Bismarck were lauded, and the Cavour reinterpreted for the new century came to embody fully the sentiment of national unity (Alessio Reference Alessio1908).

The final notable case was the statue inaugurated in 1913 in Bergamo, a stronghold of intransigent Catholicism in Italy (Belotti Reference Belotti1989, 21–22), but also the town that contributed the most to the Garibaldian expedition in Sicily. The presence of a conservative party appears to have been the main obstacle to the celebration of Cavour. The origins of the work date back to the 1890s; after several attempts and letters to the local press, the count Gianforte Suardi succeeded in gaining a measure of support.Footnote ⁵¹ The funds collected must have been substantial, probably around 50,000 lire. The commission was entrusted to the renowned Leonardo Bistolfi: a prominent sculptor associated with the Italian Symbolist movement and steeped in Art Nouveau influences (Panzetta Reference Panzetta2003, 94–95), the Piedmontese broke with conventional iconography and offered a personal interpretation of Cavour, his principles and the ideals embodied by his political career.Footnote ⁵²

The monument in Bergamo embraced pure allegory. Bistolfi reimagined the familiar image of Cavour, replacing it with a patriotic metaphor centred on a woman. In 1911, the sculptor explained the concept in a letter to the Corriere della Sera, describing a female figure – Liberty – awakening and spreading her wings: an intentionally ambiguous allegorical abstraction designed to convey a higher and more spiritual meaning even to less educated viewers.Footnote ⁵³ The image of the statesman was relegated to one side of the marble block, carved in profile within a circular medallion. This aesthetic choice was not unprecedented: Vincenzo Vela proposed a similar design for the monument to Daniele Manin in Turin, in 1861 (Parker Reference Parker2011, 194–197).

The committee organised the ceremony as part of the 20 September celebrations of 1913, a date that once again provoked resistance from a part of the intransigent Catholic world.Footnote ⁵⁴ Nevertheless, the patriotic festivities were a success thanks to the presence of Victor Emmanuel III, which amplified the event’s national resonance. A monument to Cavour in Catholic Bergamo marked the beginning of a new political period: in the wake of the Gentiloni Pact, even the Weaver had now become part of the shared ideological grouping of the centre-right united against socialism. The event confirmed the outcome of a trend that was already evident at a national level. Held on 23 September, the unveiling greatly impressed the public.Footnote ⁵⁵ The work was praised by critics for its allegorical approach, judged superior to yet another ‘Cavour in trousers‘.Footnote ⁵⁶ Not all observers were pleased with it. Some criticised the image of the nude female figure; for others, the very meaning of a Cavour monument in which Cavour seemed barely present was rather obscure. Indeed, upon seeing the statue, one local person is said to have expressed his surprise upon seeing a woman instead of a man (Frattini and Ravanelli Reference Frattini and Ravanelli2013, 128–130). This reaction highlights how the search for symbolic iconography did not always align with the expectations of public communication. Figure 6]

Figure 6.

Bergamo: marble monument by Leonardo Bistolfi, 1913.