It is the most passionate kiss in Italian art history, but it's a code for war

“Francesco Hayez’s The Kiss is not only a romantic embrace, but also a subtle manifesto painted on the eve of war.” In 1859, Italy was still fragmented, struggling under foreign influence while the Risorgimento was pushing toward national unification. Unable to depict conspiracies and uprisings openly, Hayez wrapped his message in the seemingly harmless guise of a medieval lovers’ farewell. At the center, the young man is often read not just as a lover, but as a patriotic fighter about to depart. He clutches his beloved tightly, while one foot is already placed on the step, as if he must leave immediately after this kiss. Beneath his cloak, a dagger hilt subtly emerges, hinting at imminent rebellion and armed struggle against the Habsburg occupiers. On the left, in the dim background, a shadowy figure suggests surveillance, intrigue, and danger— a reminder that this passionate moment unfolds under the constant threat of political repression. The deepest layer of meaning lies in the colours. As the Brera Gallery itself notes, the woman’s blue dress and white sleeves evoke France, while the man’s red tights and green-lined cloak recall Italy. Together, they form a chromatic tribute to the Franco–Italian alliance that was crucial in the fight against Austrian rule— a visual echo of the agreements made at Plombières between Napoleon III and Cavour. Yet the painting has never been remembered only for its political significance. Before it became an icon of the Risorgimento, it was embraced as one of the most passionate depictions of a kiss in Western art— a moment where love and impending loss collide. Thus, The Kiss stands at a crossroads: on one level, a fierce romantic farewell, on another, a symbolic embrace between Italy and France at the birth of a new nation. In a single, unforgettable gesture, Hayez fuses intimacy with ideology, turning a lovers’ kiss into a quiet act of revolution.