The monument to the Russian commander A.V. Suvorov was inaugurated on May 5, 1801, on the first anniversary of Suvorov’s death, on the Champ de Mars. The Generalissimo is represented in the image of the ancient Roman god of war, Mars. Suvorov himself, a recognized genius of military operations, was often called the “god of war” for his swiftness, inflexibility and speed. The author of the monument was the sculptor M. Kozlovsky, and the pedestal was made according to the design of the architect A. Voronikhin. Master F. Gordeev created a bas-relief on a pedestal, on which Glory and Peace are depicted in an allegorical form, overshadowing a shield with the inscription: “Prince of Italy, Count Suvorov of Rymnik, 1801.” These titles are reminiscent of Suvorov’s most high-profile victories: on the Rymnik River during the Russian-Turkish War of 1787-1791, as well as in Italy, where the commander defeated the French army.

The monument to the famous warrior, who is known for the fact that he never lost a single battle in his entire life, was conceived during Suvorov’s lifetime: in 1799, Emperor Paul I ordered the sculpture of a triumphal monument, similar to those erected to the victorious commanders of Ancient Rome. In 1801, the monument was unveiled on the Champ de Mars, and in 1818 it was moved to Suvorov Square, where it is currently located.

Suvorov is depicted with a sword, with which he strikes an invisible enemy, and a shield. With this shield, the commander covers the triangular altar, on which the Neapolitan and Sardinian crowns, as well as the papal tiara, are located. Behind the altar, lilies grow from the ground - symbols of the peoples of Italy protected by Russia. The monument became a symbol of the valor of domestic weapons and the invincibility of the Russian army.

How to get there

Get to the Nevsky Prospekt or Gostiny Dvor metro station (exit to the Griboedov Canal) and walk along the Griboedov Canal towards decreasing numbering of houses, focusing on the domes of the Savior on Spilled Blood. Having reached the Savior on Blood and going around it, cross the Moika River. Then you need to walk along the Champs of Mars towards the embankment and go out to Suvorov Square, in the center of which the monument is erected.

Historical reference

1730-1800 – years of life of Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov.
September 11, 1789 - victory of Russian and Austrian troops under the command of A.V. Suvorov over the Turkish army on the Rymnik River.
1799 - order of Paul I to sculpt a triumphal monument in honor of Suvorov.
May 6, 1800 - Suvorov was buried in the Alexander Nevsky Lavra.
1801 - a monument to the great commander was erected on the Champ de Mars.
1818 – the monument was moved to Suvorov Square.

Legends and myths

During the war, the monument to Suvorov, like the monuments to Kutuzov and Barclay de Tolly, was not camouflaged. People believed that as long as the statues of great commanders were intact, the enemy would not be in the city. The troops leaving for the front saluted the monument to the great commander.

There is a legend according to which they wanted to hide the monument to the Generalissimo in the basement of one of the houses located near Suvorov Square. However, at night, Suvorov himself appeared in a dream to one of those who was responsible for moving the monument: he shook his finger and reminded him that during his life he had never been a coward and would not want to be one after death. He angrily said that it is cowards who die first in war. The order to move the monument was canceled, and a few days later an enemy shell, flying past the bronze head of the monument, landed directly in the very basement in which they wanted to hide the monument.

Grandpaperpublished an entertaining article from the magazine “Zodchiy” dated October 3, 1910. It seems that cursing new monuments is our long-standing tradition.

stumbling block

Almost simultaneously, monuments were opened: in St. Petersburg - to Alexander III, and in Moscow - to Gogol. It's been a long time since we've heard so much controversy and so much indignation. A legend has appeared that a certain philanthropist proposes to replace the Gogol monument with a new, more “decent” one; the legend is implausible, if only because the first subscription provided an amount sufficient only for the monument, which is insignificant in size. No such legend appeared about the monument to Emperor Alexander II, but there was enough indignation at the horse’s short tail.

I couldn’t help but remember that the Opekushinsky monument to Pushkin (a monument to Pushkin in Moscow, sculptor Alexander Opekushin - Grandpaper note), extremely ugly in silhouette, with a figure that bears little resemblance to Pushkin, and with a styleless pedestal, did not cause protests at one time and, along with The monument to Alexander II, in which it is difficult to decide what is more tasteless or ordinary, is considered one of the Moscow attractions.

The Gogol monument is not magnificent, but relatively decent. It is this kind of Gogol, oppressed by everyday vulgarity, who is closest to Moscow. The design does not have the usual pyramidal structure for monuments, and a ribbon of reliefs beautifully encircles the black pedestal. The figure of Gogol itself - the mournful Gogol of the last time - is not beautiful. There is no passion for the beauty of form, but there is also no vulgarity - this inevitable companion of domestic monuments. The last one is already a lot.

The public calmly endured the mockery of art when the statue of Glinka was erected, but cannot come to terms with the short tail of the horse on the monument to Alexander III. For her, any vulgarity and ordinariness is better than trying to follow a new path. What's next? A repetition of the guardian monuments, a repetition of the terrible busts of the Alexander Garden in St. Petersburg? This costs money, but it would not be a pity; It’s scary to think that a dreary, ordinary monument will be erected in front of the Alexander III Museum, just as the view of the Kremlin was spoiled by the huge monument to Alexander II. And there is no end in sight to the series of depressing monuments that appear in Saratov, Vilna, etc.

This phenomenon is typical not only for Russia. And in Germany, and in France, and in Italy, monuments are growing like mushrooms. Of course, French and, perhaps, even Italian monuments are no match for Siegesallee (Victory Alley in Berlin - Grandpaper note) and our Alexander Park. But even among French monuments there is a lot of dreary ordinariness. Moreover, although there are few real sculpture-artists everywhere, it is they who do not get monuments, and if they do get them, then the implementation is surrounded by obstacles in the form of commissions that distort the artists’ plans.

So, the streets are defaced with disgusting works, and our idea of ​​great men is mingled with memories of busts and monuments that can only be reproduced in the form of vodka bottles.

The erection of monuments to political figures is completely understandable. Who would remember the name of the Mausoleum if his wife had not erected a famous monument to him (Mausoleum)? Would anyone in the public, even an educated one, know the names of Guatemalata or Colleoni if ​​they had not been immortalized by the works of Donatello and Verrocchio? It is completely natural to want to immortalize people who shine for a short time with images of their beautiful figures.

But what is the point of erecting monuments to Sophocles, Dante and Pushkin, i.e. to those who “erected a monument to themselves, not made by hands,” eternal. Centuries will pass, monuments will disappear, the languages ​​in which these poets wrote will die, and yet the slightest fragment of their works will be enough so that the memory of them does not die, and their name stands above the name of the rulers.

But, in addition to reminders of a great man, the monument also has the purpose of decorating a square or garden, and this is of utmost importance. For people living in the city or visiting it, a monument is first of all a decoration, and then a reminder. Therefore, when discussing monuments, it is necessary to first of all ask about their beauty.

This has now been almost forgotten, and what they are looking for in a monument first of all is the idea and resemblance to the person depicted, demanding only that it be slightly embellished, just as the outdated beauty does. To achieve this, the sculptor must become accustomed to a non-aesthetic point of view, since it is difficult to find beauty in modern figures. A real sculptor-artist has to go through a drama if he decides to build a monument in the form of the figure of some stooped, bald modern figure.

The public tends to disdain the idealized monuments of bygone times. And if she makes an exception, recognizing Falconet’s Peter (“The Bronze Horseman”) as an ideal monument, then this happens only because genius sometimes defeats any crowd. But how contemptuously they treat the excellent Rastrelli monument (in front of the Mikhailovsky Castle in St. Petersburg), Kozlovsky’s elegant Suvorov (monument to Alexander Suvorov in the image of the god Mars at the Champs de Mars) and Minin Martos (monument to Minin and Pozharsky on Red Square in Moscow). The public blames the clothes of the ancient commander on the former, not realizing that for Rastrelli and for all Russians, Peter was, first of all, the Emperor who created a great empire, and for his closest contemporaries, the Preobrazhensky uniform from the time of the Battle of Poltava was not the precious relic that it seems to us now.

It was often said that the graceful Mars was not the emblem of Suvorov, who sang in the choir and crowed a rooster. But they forgot that eccentricity was only a mask for a commander who easily carried out theoretically impossible campaigns. For posterity, Suvorov is not a frail, gray-haired old man, but a hero of a romantic Italian campaign. This is how Kozlovsky understood it, and there can hardly be a better monument to the great commander than “The God of War, coming to save the kings.”

The monument to Minin and Pozharsky represents the heroes as Romans, and not in zipuns and Armenians. But if we were to pursue historical verisimilitude, we would have to get to the bottom of all the heroes, and how many political figures would turn out to be insignificant personalities brought forward by chance! What a collection of freaks would fill our squares and streets! Martos did not think about some of Pozharsky’s weaknesses, but imagined ideal heroes. And it is difficult to come up with a better monument in terms of concept and beauty of relief. Let the individuals be not like that or not quite like that; the monument depicts them as the imagination of the people made them. Centuries will pass, the memory of their significance will disappear, just as the memory of Marcus Aurelius is unreal for us now. But their name will be remembered thanks to the monument, just as the name of the Roman emperor is remembered thanks to the Capitoline statue.

When creating the monument to Gogol, the author thought about the writer as a person, about his possible complete description. The skeptical spirit of our time brought forward the religious sorrow of Gogol’s mood in the era of “correspondence with friends,” while realism prevented the development of any brilliant side of his spirit to the detriment of the rest. That is why there is no monumentality or eternity in the monument, but only experimentation, a sketch. This is not a monument to Gogol, but a monument to our sick time, capable not of admiration and admiration for the lofty, but only of the powerless trying on of all kinds of theories. The Gogol monument is bad, it is ugly, but it is a true imprint of the period of philosophical articles by Merezhkovsky and Rozanov, the literature of “Scales” and “Knowledge”. This is how we need to treat him and also appreciate the Pushkin monument on Strastnoy Boulevard - the best reflection of a styleless era. These advantages are interesting in the future for a cultural historian, but they do not add beauty to the monument, they spoil the place, and those who destroy them in the name of beauty will be right.

But there is still something comforting in Gogol’s monument. The Pushkin monument is bad, but the author and the public consider it excellent; Gogol’s is bad, but one can feel the pain and suffering with which the author sought to express his idea, which could have resulted in a beautiful form if he had been raised by a country of greater artistic culture. The monument is bad, but it leads to better things; and from the Pushkin monument there is one road - to Glinka on Theater Square in St. Petersburg.

And “Gogol”, and “Pushkin”, Moscow and St. Petersburg, and “Glinka”, and all sorts of busts of the “Lomonosovs”, “Zhukovskys”, etc. What prevented them from being good monuments was that when creating them they thought least of all about beauty. In one case, an exception occurred: by some miracle, the construction of the monument to Alexander III went to a real artist, far from the views of the crowd. First of all, it would be beautiful and would look like the late Emperor - that is the task of the master. The second is easily achievable for an impressionist master, but the first requires concessions.

To be beautiful, you need to retreat from reality; a horse made of meat and bones is one thing, a horse made of bronze is another. This is why the horses of Rastrelli and Trubetskoy are so far from reality. But some retreats inevitably led to others, and before Trubetskoy there was no school that prepared the way for Donatello and Verrocchio. Tireless long-term work could not eliminate all shortcomings, and their complete removal could easily lead to the depersonalization of creation, to deprivation. of the power that is poured into this heavy rider. Leaving everything else aside, we must admit that Trubetskoy’s work in terms of the power of the figure, beauty, sovereignty and strength has no equal among the monuments of recent years. Comparing it with the monuments of Victor Emanuel and Garibaldi, similar in the pose of a horse, must be classified as nonsense of people who do not understand sculpture. And, alas, there are too many of them among our contemporaries.

As for the idea, Trubetskoy, of course, had no idea. There was a desire to create an image that had formed in his imagination from stories, images, etc. He achieved it and, looking only for beauty, found almost everything. The image given by Trubetskoy merged with the spirit of the Emperor, with the spirit of politics. This can be easily seen from the reviews of dissatisfied people. They, each in their own way, are indignant at Trubetskoy for expressing something that, in the opinion of each, was a deficiency or, rather, was not given to them to the extent that they would like by the late Emperor.

Moscow is waiting for a new monument to the same Emperor; he, presumably, will satisfy the “patriots,” although over time they too will realize that Opekushin will not achieve even a remote hint of the strength and power that Trubetskoy poured into his creation. Time will pass, the political issues of our time will settle down, and the Trubetskoy monument will be the pride of St. Petersburg, the same pride as Rastrelli’s “Peter” (in front of the Mikhailovsky Castle), Falconeta’s “Peter”, “Rumyantsev Obelisk” and “Suvorov”.

Both the crowd and fate were unkind to all these monuments. Rastrelli's "Peter" lay in a barn for almost a century; the “commission” damaged the pedestal of the Falconet monument; The obelisk of Rumyantsev is hidden in a dense park and covered with a cast-iron cupid. Disgusting lamp posts are erected in front and behind the Suvorov. This is how the crowd appreciates those who brought beauty to it!

There is no need to talk about the monument to Peter I, erected in front of Sampsonievskaya Church. Like all of Antokolsky’s works, this one is devoid of sculptural beauty, and one can regret that the donors did not think of putting up a copy of that marvelous bust of Rastrelli, which is hidden in the little-visited hall of the Winter Palace, where, by the way, there are excellent busts of Peter’s associates. This is where Peter is truly beautiful - “like God’s thunderstorm.”

The appearance of this statue in front of the crowd could really explain Peter to her. Surely there won’t be someone who, instead of the third copy of Antokolsky, will remember the sculpture of the brilliant Rastrelli.

Unfortunately, something even worse than Antokolsky appears, these are Bernshtam’s (Leopold Bernshtam’s) works on the banks of the Neva. Of course, the proximity of the crumbling Palace Bridge and the unsuccessful Panaevsky Theater justify to a certain extent the staging of an ugly lump of bronze, but it is placed in front of the Admiralty Arch, in front of one of the main prides of Russian architecture. Such works belong somewhere between the eighties (XIX century - approx. Grandpaper).

No matter how sad the appearance of these statues of Peter or Glinka was, I still had to experience a rare feeling of bitterness at the exhibition of projects for the monument to Alexander II. There was literally no hint of either beauty or monumentality. There was no need to even be annoyed, and only occasionally was it funny. Among everything there was a good figurine of Trubetskoy, but it was just a “figurine”, suitable only as a model of a prize at a race. There was absolutely nothing for the monument.

All this suggests the question: shouldn’t we abandon sculptural monuments altogether, since monumental sculpture has died? Why not move on to architectural monuments, like the monuments of lawyers in Padua or the chapel-tent erected by Ivan the Terrible on the spot where he received news of the birth of his son. The Moscow monument to Alexander II is, as it were, a transition to a monument-building, but the transition is only formal: there is no beauty in it, not only architectural. And if there is no beauty, then the monument is dead and, despite its size, it is not noticed, just as colossal tenement box houses are invisible.

One cannot ignore the very process of creating monuments, because this is precisely the root of evil. Usually, after death and before an anniversary, people plan to perpetuate the memory of a remarkable person. A commission is created from people, mostly strangers to art, the conditions of the competition are established, and people want to judge the impression of a grandiose monument by a small figurine.

Often, however, it is not possible to reduce sculptural works; thus, the reduction of Venus de Milo, Apoxyomen, etc. ridiculous. During the Renaissance, this issue was resolved differently: they were forced to perform an independent work, as in the famous competitions between Ghiberti and Brunelleschi and Brunelleschi and Donatello. It is necessary to return to this order. The jury should be purely artistic, the models presented should be sketches only, and when the best are identified, a choice must be made between them through responsible work.

The second thing that should be implemented whenever possible is the need for architectural monuments. Russian cities are so poor in fountains, monumental entrances to gardens and squares, gazebos, etc. that the appearance of all this would be more than desirable. And if at present sculpture is in decline due to lack of demand, then architecture is beginning to revive, and it is already felt that there are not enough buildings in which decorative architects could deploy their forces; It is not only desirable and necessary that architectural monuments be included in the terms of competitions, but it is absolutely necessary that the architects themselves more often introduce the public at exhibitions to the possibility of such works. Drawings and plans are not very convincing to the public, and when they are also huge colossuses, it is much more difficult to understand them. Perspective views and models would make it easier to understand. Why shouldn’t a group of architects take the risk of putting up a series of at least, for example, monumental benches for public gardens; maybe this would lead to orders, would displace the sad busts and disgusting cast-iron benches of our public gardens

Mars, Latin, Greek Ares is the Roman god of war and patron of Roman power, the son of Jupiter and Juno.

Unlike, who was the god of frantic war among the Greeks and did not enjoy special honor, Mars was one of the most revered Roman gods, only Jupiter stood above him. According to Roman myths, Mars was the father of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. Therefore, the Romans considered themselves his descendants and believed that Mars loved them more than all other peoples and ensured their victories in wars. In archaic times, Mars was also revered as the god of the harvest, fields, forests and spring. This is evidenced by a number of surviving prayers of farmers and the name of the first month of spring (March).

The wife of Mars was the goddess Neria (Nerio), about whom it is only known that Mars had to kidnap her. But Romulus and Remus were born to him by the Vestal Rhea Silvia, daughter of the Latin king Numitor. In battles, Mars was constantly accompanied by Pallor and Pavor, “Pale” and “Terror”, corresponding to the satellites of Ares and Phobos. As his forefather, the Romans called him by the name Mars Pater or Marspiter, and as the god of war, bestowing victory, he was called Mars Victor. Mars showed his favor towards Rome already in ancient times, dropping his own shield from the sky so that it would protect the city. By order of King Numa Pompilius, eleven exactly the same shields were subsequently made so that an attacker who would try to steal the shield of Mars would not be able to identify it. All year these shields were kept in the sanctuary of Mars in the Forum. Only on March 1, on the birthday of God, his priests (salia) carried them around the city in a solemn procession, accompanied by dancing and singing. The sacred animals of Mars were the wolf, the woodpecker, and the symbol was the spear.

"Mars and Rhea Silvia", Rubens

The Romans honored Mars with special festivals. In addition to the salii processions, these were, in particular, horse competitions (equiria), held annually on February 27 and March 14. However, the most important festival was the so-called “Suovetavrilia”, which took place every five years after the end of the next census of the Roman population (census). It consisted in the fact that around the Romans, who had gathered on the Campus Martius and lined up in battle formation, a pig, a sheep and a bull were paraded three times, which were then sacrificed to Mars. With this sacrifice, the Roman people cleansed themselves of all sins and ensured themselves the help and protection of Mars for the future.

In addition to Mars, the Romans knew and honored other gods of war: in ancient times, this was primarily Mars, who was later identified with the founder of Rome, Romulus; They also revered the goddess of war. Later, under Greek influence, they transferred some properties to their goddess Minerva, and as a result, she also became the goddess of war. However, the cult of Mars as the god of war decisively prevailed until the fall of ancient Rome.

"The Battle of Mars and Minerva", Jacques Louis David

In honor of Mars, the Romans built several temples and sanctuaries in their city. The oldest of them stood on the Campus Martius (on the left bank of the Tiber), where military exercises, censorship reviews and public meetings took place, at which in ancient times the issue of declaring war was decided. The sanctuary of Mars in the Forum was also considered very ancient. Going to war, each commander came to the sanctuary, shook his shields at Mars, asked God for help and promised him a portion of the spoils of war. The most magnificent temple was dedicated by Emperor Augustus to Mars the Avenger (Mars Ultor) in memory of the retribution that befell the murderers of his adoptive father, Julius Caesar. The temple was consecrated in 2 AD. h. in the new Forum of Augustus, several damaged columns and the base of a temple statue have survived from it. The Campus Martius in Rome disappeared as a result of development already during the Empire. At the end of the 1st century. n. e. Emperor Domitian ordered a stadium to be built in its place, the contours of which correspond to the current Roman Piazza Navona. (Centuries later, new Fields of Mars emerged in Paris, St. Petersburg and other cities - even Detroit).

"Venus, Mars and the Graces", Jacques Louis David

Mars has long died along with the rest of the ancient gods, but, unfortunately, humanity brings more and more victims to him: Mars is the most famous and still living symbol of war. Already in ancient times, Mars passed from mythology to astronomy as the “bloody planet”. In 1877, American astronomer A. Hall discovered two satellites of the planet Mars, Deimos and Phobos, the existence of which was foreseen by Swift 150 years before this discovery. Many ancient statues and images of Mars have been preserved, and in modern times even more were created (see article “Apec”).

In a number of cities, the place of military reviews was called the Champs of Mars:

“I love the warlike liveliness
Amusing Fields of Mars..."
- A. S. Pushkin, “The Bronze Horseman.”

Mikhail Ivanovich Kozlovsky is one of the founders of Russian classicism.

Gifted with diverse talents and a vigorous creative temperament, he is better known as an outstanding sculptor. It is unlikely that any of his contemporaries was able to express with such skill the era of great wars and the high rise of Russian social thought. His works, whether they were associated with the heroics of antiquity or the glorious past of Russia, embodied the ideas of living modernity. Using the language of allegory, the sculptor invariably brings to the fore the theme of protest, struggle and suffering. In terms of the strength of its tragic sound, Kozlovsky’s work echoes Derzhavin’s poetry. Organic affinity connects his sculpture with the works of ancient masters. The world of ideas and images, the courageous plasticity of heroes contemplating, suffering, fighting, is akin to the works of the great Michelangelo.

Like most artists of the 18th century, Kozlovsky came from a democratic environment. He was born in St. Petersburg on October 26, 1753 in the family of a military trumpeter. My father served in the Baltic Galley Fleet, in the rank of non-commissioned officer. The family lived on the outskirts of the capital in the Admiralty Galley Harbor. In 1764, at the request of his father, eleven-year-old Mikhail, trained in Russian literacy and arithmetic, was accepted as a student at the Academy of Arts. Three years later, the talented student was assigned to the sculpture class of Professor Nicolas Gillet. The years of study of Mikhail Kozlovsky coincided with the period of maturation of classicism in European painting, sculpture and architecture. The cornerstone of the aesthetics of classicism is the idea of ​​imitation of the masters of Ancient Greece and Rome. The main features of the theory of classicism go back to the rationalistic and metaphysical dogmas of European, mainly German and French philosophy of the Enlightenment. From 1774 to 1779, Kozlovsky spent the years as a pensioner at the Academy in Rome. In 1779 he went to Marseille and from there to Paris. In February 1780, the Marseille Academy of Arts awarded him the title of academician. Kozlovsky's pensioner works indicate how carefully he studied ancient monuments, deeply penetrating the essence of the theory of classicism. He peered just as carefully at the works of modern masters. His enthusiastic review of Michelangelo's Last Judgment has been preserved. The great master of the Renaissance, unfortunately, was underestimated by artists of the 18th century, but Kozlovsky saw in his “terrible talent and art” a kinship with his own creativity and temperament. 1

Kozlovsky returned to St. Petersburg in 1780, a mature master, and immediately took a prominent place in the Russian artistic environment. He quickly entered the circle of the advanced noble intelligentsia. His first works in his homeland affirmed the virtues and immortal glory of great people who deserved the gratitude of their fatherland. Kozlovsky embodied examples of civic valor and love for his homeland in historical bas-reliefs, graphic compositions, and sculpture. Kozlovsky’s most famous works are the monument to A.V. Suvorov on the Champ de Mars in St. Petersburg and the sculptural group “Samson Tearing the Lion’s Jaw”, which occupies a central place in the design of the Grand Cascade ensemble in Peterhof.

The Russian Museum displays classical statues of Mikhail Kozlovsky. Let's consider four of them - refined, sharp, lively, integral, logically clear - images of ancient heroes.

1780s

The statue “The Vigil of Alexander the Great” was made by Kozlovsky in the second half of the 1780s. Probably the customer was Catherine II's favorite Potemkin. He wanted to portray the future “king of the four corners of the world,” devoting all his time to study and even sacrificing sleep for the sake of reading, in order to set this valiant example for youth. “Alexander” was supposed to decorate the festival in the Tauride Palace, conceived by Potemkin for the Empress. It is known that Catherine nurtured her young chosen ones, supplied to her with the approval of her extremely busy “senior” favorite, wanting to create outstanding statesmen out of them, but, alas, she had no success with any of them.

The statue carries an allegorical meaning; the plot is taken from the works of the ancient historian Quintus Curtius. I quote his legend: “Alexander in his youth, during the reign of his father Philip, wishing to gain great knowledge in the sciences, tried to restrain himself from sleep and always fell asleep, having in his hand a copper ball, which, during his deep sleep, falling into the basin, woke up by the knocking it produces.”

Kozlovsky depicted Alexander sitting on his bed at a moment of complete exhaustion, when, during a night class, he was struck by treacherous fatigue. To solve his plan, the sculptor chose a complex pose, turning the young man’s figure into depth. A strong, trained body bowed, defeated by the god of sleep, a curly, heavy head rests on a bent left arm, one leg is thrown over the other. The fingers of the right hand barely hold the copper ball over the bowl. Another second, and they will unclench - the ball will fall with a loud thud and wake up the prince. Kozlovsky completely succeeded in conveying the state of a dozing person. Alexander sleeps until the ball falls.

In order to enjoy the beauty of a young athlete’s body, you need to go around it and repeat it again. You will be captivated not only by the main character, but also by the sculptural still life that tells the story of his world. The small bed is covered with fabric falling in wavy folds. Kozlovsky managed to convey their graceful lines in marble. The right hand with the ball rests on a helmet decorated with a magnificent plume. Particular attention is drawn to the shield leaning against the bed and decorated with a bas-relief of Alexander’s favorite story, “The Raising of Achilles by a Centaur.”

Polycard

The image of the ruler of Samos, Polycrates, a rich and lucky man, treacherously destroyed, is one of the most tragic both in Kozlovsky’s work and in Russian art of the second half of the 18th century. The sculptor completed the statue in 1790. The plot is drawn from ancient history - a well-known historical fact. The ancient Greek tyrant of Samos was cruelly deceived by the Persian satrap Oroites, who invited him in 522 BC. to the city of Magnesia to divide the treasures. Polycrates arrived trustingly, but the treacherous Oroites treated him treacherously and ordered him to be seized and crucified. The plot, taken from ancient history, served the sculptor to respond in the language of allegory to the events of living modernity. Progressive people of the 18th century saw Polycrates as a symbol of the variability of happiness. The tyrant Polycrates was rich and greedy for treasures, ambitious, merciless towards his subjects, terrible for his enemies, but he did not escape betrayal and died a terrible death. During the years of the French Revolution, this image acquired new, even greater relevance. People of the 18th century, accustomed to thinking in allegories, remembered Polycrates because they saw around many “polycrates” and “polycratics” - formerly lucky people deceived by the cruel fate. The statue was created in Paris, during the turbulent years of the revolution, where Kozlovsky ended up with his students. Kozlovsky managed to embody the pathos of suffering and struggle in the image of a dying man. He knows that he is doomed, but the passionate thirst for freedom is expressed in an intense, unequal struggle with death, immeasurable excitement. Polycrates' body is bending in unbearable pain, but every muscle is tense, the hand clenched into a fist is thrown up in despair, the leg is sharply pulled to the side. The whole figure with swollen veins, painfully tense muscles, is engulfed in a rapid impulse. Polycrates is looking for support, hoping to gain strength. He longs to break his bonds, like Michelangelo's slave, but his strength is leaving him, death is approaching. A drooping head and a lifelessly hanging hand speak of the hopelessness of freeing oneself. The exhausted face of the dying woman is distorted by agony. On the trunk of the tree to which Polycrates is chained, there is an ancient Greek inscription carved: “... no one can consider himself lucky while he is alive.”

In 1798, Napoleon's troops captured Northern Italy and Switzerland. Russia, according to agreements with these countries, was supposed to help in the war with France. The allied countries turned to Paul I with a request to appoint Field Marshal Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov as commander-in-chief of the Russian-Austrian army. However, by that time Suvorov had been sent into exile by the emperor to his estate. Paul I had to write a letter to the commander: “Count Alexander Vasilyevich! Now is not the time for us to settle accounts. God will forgive the guilty. The Roman Emperor demands you to become the commander of his army and entrusts you with the fate of Austria and Italy...”

Count Suvorov returns from a military campaign with victory. On this occasion, Paul I ordered the erection of a monument to the commander in Gatchina. For the first time in Russian history, it was decided to erect a monument during the hero’s lifetime.

In 1799, the project of the sculptor Mikhail Ivanovich Kozlovsky was adopted. A. N. Voronikhin also participated in the development of the project. The monument is unique in that it became the first large monument created entirely by Russian craftsmen. The sculpture was cast by foundry worker Vasily Ekimov, who, under an agreement dated October 12, 1800, was obliged to cast and polish the statue by April 1, 1801. But there was a delay due to the heavy workload of the foundry. At the same time, gates for the Mikhailovsky Castle, statues, bowls and vases for the Grand Cascade in Peterhof were cast there. The bronze bas-relief on the pedestal was made by sculptor F. G. Gordeev.

During the design, the planned location of the monument was changed. Paul I wanted to see him at his new residence - Mikhailovsky Castle. To make the pedestal, the material left over from the construction of St. Isaac's Cathedral was used: “Tivdian” (Olonets) light red polished porphyry. The steps to the pedestal are made of wild Serdobol stone from the Kella manor. Kozlovsky complained several times about the dishonesty of the contractors who built the pedestal. Either it was dirty and not in the proportions the sculptor needed, or it was installed “obliquely and on one side.”

The monument never became a lifetime one. A year before the opening, Count Suvorov died. The emperor himself did not see the opening of the monument; he was killed in the Mikhailovsky Castle two months before the opening of the monument. The monument to A.S. Suvorov was unveiled on May 5, 1801 on the Field of Mars near the banks of the Moika. The new Emperor Alexander I attended the ceremony.

The sculptor Kozlovsky depicted Suvorov in the image of the god of war Mars, who with a shield with the coat of arms of the Russian Empire covers the altar with the crowns of the Neapolitan and Sardinian kings and the tiara of the Pope.

In 1818, at the suggestion of the architect K. Rossi, the monument was moved to the center of the newly created Suvorov Square. In 1834, the pedestal made of cherry-colored marble blocks was damaged due to severe frosts. It was replaced with a pink granite pedestal.

During the siege of Leningrad, they planned to hide the monument; one of the options involved moving it to the basement of a neighboring house. However, this was never done. Meanwhile, on one of the days of the siege, an artillery shell flew next to the monument and flew right into the basement where the monument could be. During the entire war, the monument to Suvorov was not damaged.