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Those Two
Statues in Piazza Plebiscito
Directly in front of
the impressive colonnade of the church
of San Francesco
di Paola at Piazza Plebiscito are the two most visible statues in Naples. As you
face the
church, the one on the southern (left) side (photo, left) is of Charles
III of Bourbon, the
founding father of the Bourbon dynasty
in Naples; on the right (photo, below) is his son,
Ferdinand IV of Naples (later named Ferdinand I of the Kingdom of the
Two
Sicilies).
The son commissioned his father’s statue in
1818, shortly
after the Bourbons came back into possession of their kingdom after the
Napoleonic wars. (The first thing
they did, of course, was finish the church,
itself, in 1816. See that link above.) The sculptor was Antonio Canova
(1757-1822), a northern Italian and one of the most famous sculptors of
his
age. Actually, son Ferdinand only reconfirmed the original commission
to Canova
given by Joseph Bonaparte in 1807 during the French
reign in Naples.
It was finished in 1819 and placed in
the square in 1829. The monarch is garbed in classical Roman fashion.
Ferdinand
also commissioned the statue to himself at the same time. He is, like
his
father, mounted and dressed in classical fashion. The sculptor was also
Canova,
but he died and the work was completed by the Neapolitan, Antonio Calì
(1788-1866).
The entire project
of statues in the square was not one of
Canova’s favorites. He apparently accepted the original French
commission when
the plan was to dedicate the work to the then Emperor Napoleon. (The
church,
itself, was originally meant to be a pantheon-like tribute to Napoleon.)
After
the restoration of the monarchy, Ferdinand called Canova to Naples to
discuss finishing the work. Canova
complained to a friend that he had undertaken a long trip to discuss
something that
just as easily could have been discussed by letter. Perhaps after his Psyche Revived by Love’s Kiss—now in the
Louvre—and Perseus and the Head of Medusa—in
the Vatican museum—not to mention a bust of Napoleon, himself, a
second-rate
King sitting on a horse didn’t quite get his 61-year-old juices flowing
anymore. (I mean, of course, Ferdinand—a total dud. His father, Charles
III was
brilliant and, perhaps the last of the great “benevolent monarchs” in
the age
of Absolutism in Europe.) Ferdinand got Canova to agree to do the second
statue, but Canova pleaded “no time” when the king tried to get a third
statue
out of him—of Lucia Migliaccio, the king’s second and “morganatic” wife.
Both statues were threatened by a mob in the
wake of Garibaldi’s entry into Naples
in 1860. Fortunately—I think—a revolutionary priest, father Gavazzi,
jumped up
on one of the statues and stayed the frenzied wrecking crew by saying
that they
should save the statues because they could then replace the two heads
of the monarchs
with those of Garibaldi and Victor Emanuel (eventually the first king
of the
new, united Italy).
I don’t know what became of that plan, but at least it calmed the crowd.
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