Cavour planned united Italy; his career is a shining example of what may be done by a man with one definite purpose to which he adheres without digression. Just as Disraeli seems from his early manhood to have aimed at becoming Prime Minister of England so Cavour appears to have aimed at the union of Italy under the leadership of Piedmont. There were a thousand and one points at which he could have turned aside, a dozen times when a brilliant temporary success was held before him, but he preferred to sacrifice no atom of energy or influence which might in time help in his fundamental purpose. He preferred obscurity to the danger of being too well known, and the coldness of contemporaries to the burden of relations with them which might tend to shackle his own independence. He read his time and countrymen with extraordinary accuracy, and foresaw that what was left of the old rÉgime was tottering and that to attempt to bolster it up was absurd. He preferred to let the old conventions of a departed feudalism go their way in peace while he prepared himself for the day when the new statecraft should be recognized.

The Piedmont of 1810, the year of Cavour’s birth, was singularly mediÆval. The militant strength and daring of the small states of the Middle Ages had departed, but the point of view remained. The aristocracy was narrow, bigoted, and overbearing, they were intolerant of the new discoveries of science and the useful arts, they devoted themselves exclusively to the trivial entertainments of the Eighteenth Century. Napoleon spread above them like a storm cloud; they wrapped themselves as well as they could in their ancestral cloaks and waited, confident that the gale could not last long. The majority of them could not believe that the French Revolution was more than an accident, but there were a few, and those almost entirely men and women who had lived abroad, who saw further. One of these latter was Cavour’s grandmother, the Marquise Philippine di Cavour, from whom he seems to have inherited his breadth of view.

The family of Benso belonged to the old nobility of Piedmont, and in time came into possession of the fief of Santena and the fastness of Cavour in the province of Pignerolo. A member of the family who became distinguished for military services was made Marquis of Cavour by Charles Emmanuel III., and the eldest son of Marquis Benso di Cavour married Philippine, daughter of the Marquis de Sales, a girl brought up in a chÂteau on the Lake of Annecy. The Marquise Philippine immediately became the controlling factor in the Cavour household; she strove to lighten the heavy somberness of her husband’s family in Turin, and at the trying time of the French occupation sold much of the family plate and furnishings, and finally certain priceless religious relics, in order to provide for her son, a boy of sixteen, when he was ordered to join General Berthier’s corps of the French army. Later she was commanded to become one of the household of the Princess Camillo Borghese, sister of Napoleon, and wife of his governor of Piedmont, who, better known as Pauline Bonaparte, figures as one of the most beautiful as well as one of the liveliest women of that age. The Marquise Philippine acquitted herself so well and so graciously that the Princess became one of her staunchest friends, and with the Prince acted as sponsor at the christening of the Marquise’s second grandchild, Camille di Cavour. The Marquise’s son, Michele Benso, had married AdÈle, daughter of the Count de Sellon of Geneva, and had two sons, Gustave and Camille. Michele Benso had profited greatly by his mother’s tact, but he was still the unbending reactionary in nature. So was his eldest son Gustave. It was the younger boy who received the adaptable genius of the Marquise Philippine, and who seems to have been best able to appreciate her. On one occasion he said to her, “Marina” (a Piedmontese term for grandmother), “we get on capitally, you and I; you were always a little bit of a Jacobin.” When, as the boy grew older, his family and friends reproached him with being a fanatical liberal, he turned to the Marquise, confident that she understood him. Cavour had few confidants during his whole life, few friends from whom he drew inspiration, but his grandmother had so trained him in the light of her own self-reliant spirit that he rarely seems to have felt the need of any outside aid.

The feudal system had scant respect for younger sons. Gustave was carefully educated for his proud position, Camille was largely left to grow up by chance. He was sent to the Military Academy at Turin, and became a page at the court of Charles Albert. With both the social and military life about him he found himself out of temper, his views were too liberal for the narrowness he met on every hand, he was hoping for events which most of his companions could only have regarded at that time as tragedies. His restlessness was noted, and he was sent to the lonely Alpine fortress of Bard. There the soul-wearying inertia of the military life of a small state grew to typify to him the condition of his land. At the age of twenty-one, he wrote to the Count de Sellon, “The Italians need regeneration; their morale, which was completely corrupted under the ignoble dominion of Spaniards and Austrians, regained a little energy under the French rÉgime, and the ardent youth of the country sighs for a nationality, but to break entirely with the past, to be born anew to a better state, great efforts are necessary and sacrifices of all kinds must remould the Italian character. An Italian war would be a sure pledge that we were going to become again a nation, that we were rising from the mud in which we have been trampled for so many centuries.”

Such ideas found no sympathy at the court of Piedmont, and Cavour, confident that the army could offer him no opportunity to use his talents, resigned his commission, and induced his father to buy him a small estate at Leri. There, in the middle of the rice-fields of Piedmont, Cavour settled down to the life of a farmer, experimenting with new steam machinery, canal irrigation, artificial fertilizers, studying books on government and agriculture, seeing something of his country neighbors, waiting for the gradual breakdown of the old rÉgime. His family were quite content to let him vegetate on his far-off estate, he had no position in the family household in Turin, his father and brother were busy with details of court life, and after the death of his grandmother his combined family regarded him as lacking in normal balance. Without becoming actually melancholy the youth was continually dejected, he saw no place waiting to be filled by him, he wished that he had been born into another nation, and sighed, “Ah! if I were an Englishman, by this time I should be something, and my name would not be wholly unknown!” Yet, indifferent as he seemed to comradeship, he had at this time one strong friend, a woman of high birth, “L’Inconnue,” as he called her in his journal. She summoned him to her at Turin, and he obeyed her call; she was unhappy and ardently patriotic, with the visions of Mazzini, he admired her and was filled with remorse at the thought of a love so constant and disinterested. They corresponded for over a year, and then Cavour’s ardor faded. He had never been in love with her, but she had loved him devotedly. A few years later she died, and left him a last letter ending, “the woman who loved you is dead.... No one ever loved you as she did, no one! For, O Camille, you never fathomed the extent of her love.” She had at least succeeded in drawing him out of his lonely despair; platonic as his regard for her seems to have been, it was the nearest approach to love that entered his life.

For fifteen years Cavour lived as a farmer at Leri, breaking the monotony of that existence by occasional visits to England and France. The former country always exerted great influence over him; he considered the life of the English country gentleman the ideal existence; he was a great admirer of Pitt and Sir Robert Peel (and said of Peel that he was “the statesman who more than any other had the instinct of the necessity of the moment,” words prophetic of his own career!), and was always a reader of Shakespeare, who among all writers he held had the deepest insight into the human heart. In Paris Cavour saw much of society through the influence of his French relations, and made the most of his opportunity to study the young rising men. He was frequently blamed by the men and women he met for leading such an aimless life, and was urged to enter the fields of literature or diplomacy. For the former he said he had no taste, for the latter he was too much out of sympathy with the government of his own country, and he could not enter the service of any other. He had the reputation of being a man of great wit and intelligence, gifted with gay and winning manners, interested to a certain extent in all concerns of the day, but unwilling to sacrifice himself to a constant devotion to any one pursuit. The women of the leading salons found his light hair, blue eyes, and happy temper charming, the men of the time valued his keen insight into contemporary questions. He played cards frequently for high stakes, but never allowed himself to become an habitual gambler. Later in life it is said that he indulged in playing for high stakes with politicians in order to gain an insight into their characters. His visits to Paris undoubtedly taught him much concerning the men with whom he was later to have so much to do, and his stays in England showed him the strength of Parliamentary government. He took vivid impressions back with him to Leri, and used his mental energy in adapting English ideas on agriculture to the needs of his farm.

With the governing world of Piedmont Cavour was undeniably unpopular. The antiquated leaders of public life considered him perilously liberal, and no party or clique found him really in accord with its views. He had written some articles for foreign newspapers, and had openly advocated the need of railways in Italy, but such of his countrymen as undertook to learn his views held him a dangerous fanatic. Singularly enough, without having made any attempt to place himself before the public, he was an object of popular distrust. He counted this rather an item in his favor, he was in no wise indebted to any man or any cause. He preferred to wait until the day of petty reactionaries should give place to serious popular movements, and by 1847 he saw that such a crisis was not far distant. Charles Albert, by nature always an enigma, was moving forward faster than his government, and was suspected of strong independent tendencies.

Charles Albert would have loomed larger in history if he had been born into either an earlier or a later age. He was not the man to direct a political crisis, he would have done well as the magnanimous sovereign of an Eighteenth Century state or as the intellectual head of a constitutional nation, but it was his misfortune to lack those vigorous robust qualities which Italians later found in his son. He was an ardent patriot, he earnestly desired to free the Italian states from foreign rule, he was zealous that Piedmont should lead in such a cause, but he was continually afraid that independence would lead directly to popular liberty under a constitution. “I desire as much as you do,” he said to Roberto d’Azeglio, “the enfranchisement of Italy, and it is for that reason, remember well, that I will never give a constitution to my people.” His advisers, who were largely clericals, and almost always reactionaries, lost no chance to impress upon his mind the impossibility of the consummation he desired. Start the new order, they said, and no man knows how far it will go. He was in fear of loosing a spirit which he could never cage. Yet his honest desire for national independence made him hearken at times to more liberal voices. In one of these moments he revoked the censorship of the press.

Cavour, primed with the history of England, saw what a free press meant, and instantly left his retirement at Leri to seize the golden opportunity. He founded a newspaper and gave it a name destined to stand for the whole movement towards nationalism, “Il Risorgimento.” The prospectus of the paper stated its aims as independence, union between the Princes and the people, and reforms. Cavour was now prepared to speak his mind.

He did not have long to wait. The people of Genoa announced that they were preparing to send a committee to the capital to ask for the expulsion of the Jesuits and the organization of a national guard. The principal editors of Turin met to consider what stand they should take in reference to these demands. The suggestion to support the Genoese petitions was meeting with general approval when Cavour rose to speak. His words fell like a bomb, he said that the demands were far too small, that the only prudence lay in asking for much more. The statement was the keynote to all his later statecraft. “Of what use,” he asked, “are reforms which have nothing definite, and lead to nothing? Where is the good of asking for that which, whether granted or not, equally disturbs the State, and weakens the moral authority of the government? Since the government can no longer be maintained on its former basis, let us ask for a constitution, and substitute for that basis another more conformable to the spirit of the times, and to the progress of civilization. Let us do this before it is too late, and before the authority which keeps society together is dissolved by popular clamor.”

Cavour’s proposal precipitated a violent contest. Both moderates and liberals thought that he was asking far too much; Valerio, the leader of the better element, declared that in asking for a constitution the meeting went far beyond the wishes of the people. The meeting broke up without reaching a decision, but the reports of it scattered with lightning-like rapidity. Valerio ridiculed the proposal to his friends and called Cavour an aper of English customs. He said, “Don’t you know my Lord Camille?—the greatest reactionist of the kingdom; the greatest enemy of the revolution, an Anglomane of the purest breed.” Cavour was nicknamed “Milord Camillo” and “Milord Risorgimento,” he was continually asked if he desired to erect an English House of Lords.

The ridicule passed, but the suggestion remained. Charles Albert heard of Cavour’s speech to the editors, and he had already lived through the first two months of that electrifying year of 1848. Constitution-making was in the air, Louis Philippe was falling, the little Italian Princes were throwing promises to their waking people. He hesitated, he was under a secret pledge to continue the government of his country in the same form in which it had come to him, he thought seriously of abdicating, but his son, Victor Emmanuel, opposed the idea vigorously. Finally, after much anxious thought and many family consultations, he decided to grant a constitution, and the famous Statute was given to the Sardinian kingdom. It is interesting to note that fifty years later the King’s grandson celebrated the date of the promulgation of what was to become the charter of Italian independence.

Raised temporarily to a pinnacle of popular applause, the fickle gusts of an excitable public opinion soon blew Cavour down to his former standing. No one really agreed with his opinions, to the moderates he was still alarmingly audacious, to the liberals too deeply imbued with the spirit of English aristocracy. He stood for election under the new constitution at Turin, and was defeated; shortly afterwards, however, he was elected to fill an unexpected vacancy. Count Balbo, the first Prime Minister under the constitution, and Cavour’s co-editor of the Risorgimento, did not ask him to join the cabinet, and openly expressed his disapproval of his fellow-journalist’s ideas. The truth of the matter was that men were afraid of Cavour, they distrusted him partly because they did not understand him, and partly because it was only too evident that if he were given the chance he would drive the car of state to suit himself.

The new cabinet had no sooner assumed office than Milan revolted against the Austrians. Charles Albert hesitated, he was heart and soul with the Milanese, but England and Russia both warned him against war with Austria. His cabinet was divided, half feared to stake too much, half were for wagering all. Cavour printed hot words in the Risorgimento: “We, men of calm minds, accustomed to listen more to the dictates of reason than to the impulses of the heart, after deliberately weighing each word we utter, are bound in conscience to declare that only one path is open to the nation, the government, the King: war, immediate war!” The evening of the day of publication the King decided on war, and Piedmont rushed to the aid of newly-arisen Lombardy.

The story of that campaign is briefly told, great confidence, heroic sacrifices, a few victorious battles, and then the re-enforcement of Radetsky’s army and the retreat to Milan. Sardinia had brave soldiers, but no great generals, the victories were not followed up as Napoleon had done on the same fields. At the battle of Goito Cavour’s nephew, Augusto di Cavour, a boy of twenty, was killed. On his body was found a last letter from his uncle encouraging him to do his duty; the blow was a terrible one for Cavour; he had predicted the noblest future for Augusto. It is said that he ever afterward kept the shot-riddled uniform of the boy in a glass case in his bedroom, a relic and reminder of heroism.

The war soon came to the tragic climax of Novara, the ministers were perpetually undecided, men were thinking more of the possible results of independence than of the fact itself. There were a thousand theorists, a thousand phrase-makers, and in the midst of them all the King, alternately hopeful and despairing, heroic in his devotion, but confident that he should never weld Italy together. Cavour had not been re-elected to the Parliament of this crucial time, he was outside the battle proper, striving to direct public sentiment through his paper, and watching and studying the strength and weakness of the cause. The battle of Novara ended the war, Charles Albert abdicated, and Victor Emmanuel came to the Sardinian throne. The natures of father and son were almost diametrically opposed, the new King was the born leader, his people could not doubt the temper of his resolution, and it was upon that implicit trust that Cavour, determined on one and only one adviser, was to build a state that should be firm and enduring. In a sense failure had cleared the field for greater achievement as success could never have done.

The new King, having sworn allegiance to the constitution, cast about him for a prime minister who could bring order out of seeming chaos, and chose Massimo d’Azeglio, then and for long afterwards the best beloved man in Piedmont. D’Azeglio was a painter, a poet, a warrior, and an accomplished man of the world, devoted to his country, liberal without being radical. He was the one man to restore popular confidence in the Sardinian kingdom, Cavour was glad that the King’s favor had fallen on such a man, and, knowing that his own assistance at that time would only serve to embarrass the new Premier, he retired to the leisure he enjoyed so thoroughly on his farm at Leri. Here he rested and recovered some of the confidence which had been shaken by the unfortunate trend of events. He was by nature optimistic, and knew the value of gradual development, the hours he spent in farming he considered most valuably employed. A friend described him about this time as having a very fresh-colored complexion, and blue eyes, which although still exceedingly bright, had a changeful expression. He was stout, but not ungainly as he became later. He stooped slightly, but when he stopped to speak to any one held himself erect in an attentive attitude. His forehead, large and solid, gave strength to a face which was not distinguished by striking features; on either side of his mouth, which was rather cold and contained, were two lines which, by trembling or contracting, gave the only sign of any emotion to an observer. His voice was low, and not remarkably inspiring, he never had the orator’s fluent tongue with which to sway his auditors. He was always courteous and at his ease, easily approachable and interested in whatever might be said to him. He belonged to the class of statesmen who tell very little of their thoughts. When he visited Manzoni on Lake Maggiore, and the latter poured out to him his dreams of a united Italy, which as he said he usually kept to himself for secret fear of being thought a madman, Cavour answered simply by rubbing his hands, and with a slow smile saying, “We shall do something.” The act and the words bespoke his character.

Cavour’s holiday in the country was not to last long, the King dissolved his first Parliament, and in the second Cavour was re-elected to his former seat. Now for the first time he made his real power felt in the Chamber, on the question of the abolition of those special courts which had formerly existed for the trial of ecclesiastic offenders against the common law. The struggle between the clericals and liberals was bitter. Cavour spoke on March 7, 1850, and advocated strong measures. He was not anxious to force the Church into a position hostile to the State, but he feared peace purchased at a heavy sacrifice. He knew that reforms must be full and sweeping if they were to stem the rising tide of European discontent. The wisest statesmen were those who, like Lord Grey and Sir Robert Peel in England, had granted fully when they recognized the temper of the time. Revolutions were only to be stayed by real reforms. If real reforms were granted, the government of Piedmont, he concluded, would not only be strong among its own people, but “gathering to itself all the living forces in Italy, it would be in a position to lead our mother-country to those high destinies whereunto she is called.”

It was the first speech which had thrilled with hope since the lamentable downfall of Novara. The audience in the galleries caught the prophetic note and cheered it to the echo. The ministers were eager to shake hands with the speaker. The people were stirred, although not yet convinced that Cavour was what he seemed to be, but public men throughout Italy recognized that here was a strong man with potent forces soon to be considered.

Soon after the passage of the bill Cavour had advocated, one of D’Azeglio’s ministers, Count Pietro di Santa Rosa, died. Immediate pressure was brought to bear to make Cavour his successor, but for a long time D’Azeglio, although friendly to Cavour, hesitated to take such an extremist into his cabinet. Finally he offered Cavour the post of Minister of Agriculture and Commerce. Cavour accepted, but only after making certain terms, one of which was that a certain minister whom he considered over-timorous should be asked to resign. D’Azeglio agreed, though with ill grace, and in consequence was shortly after told by the King, “Don’t you see that this man will turn you all out?”

On taking office Cavour gave up his connection with the Risorgimento, a paper which he considered had helped the liberal projects immeasurably. As Minister of Commerce he negotiated trade treaties with England, France, and Belgium. He took to work so readily that very shortly he was made Minister of Marine in addition to his original post. Gradually he won his way to the leadership in Parliament, speaking for himself rather than for the cabinet, and having small regard for the professed opinions of his own or any other party. When a deputy would ask him for information in the Chamber he would state his own opinion, and where that differed from opinions already expressed by his colleagues he would make his favorite reply, that he spoke “less as a minister than as a politician.”

Cavour’s many-sided nature rapidly showed itself in his stand on religious and educational measures, on trade and commerce, on theories of government and practical applications. There seemed to be no field with which he was not conversant, and which he could not straighten of tangles less thoughtful ministers had made. In April, 1851, he became Minister of Finance, having insisted that Nigra, his predecessor, should resign if he were to remain. The Minister of Public Instruction had a disagreement with Cavour, and was replaced by one of the latter’s friends, Farini, the Romagnol exile, a strong nationalist writer. These changes greatly strengthened Cavour’s position and were all in line with his policy of making Piedmont a strong constitutional state, its people imbued with the thought of leadership in any struggle for Italian unity. Abroad he was endeavoring in every way to excite interest in Italian conditions, he was an enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Gladstone, he studied Louis Napoleon’s giant strides to power, not for their effect upon liberty, but in search of indications that the new French rÉgime would listen to the voice of Victor Emmanuel. He had come to realize that foreign aid was essential to ultimate victory, and looked to France as the most probable ally. That this ally was likely to appear in the garb of a political adventurer did not disturb him; as he said, “Franklin sought the help of the most despotic monarch in Europe.”

To insure that when Piedmont should succeed in enlisting foreign aid the country might be consolidated and ready, Cavour planned a great stroke, to combine his own party in Parliament with that of the Moderate Liberals, or Left Center, as it was called. None of the four parties was sufficiently strong in itself to insure any permanent success, but a combination of the two Center parties would allow for plans of certain durability. Rattazzi, probably the most brilliant speaker in the House, and a man of much popularity, was leader of the Left Center, and to him Cavour broached his plans. The alliance was concluded in January, 1852, and kept a secret for some time. Finally, in a debate on a bill aimed to moderate newspaper attacks on foreign sovereigns, the ministry was violently attacked, and Rattazzi announced his compact with Cavour by stating that he intended generally to support the ministry in the present session unless there should be some decided change in its policy. Cavour, speaking in reply, acknowledged the alliance between the two parties.

D’Azeglio and the other ministers had been kept in the dark, and were as much surprised as was the general public. Cavour had feared that a discussion of the wisdom of such an alliance might have ended in disagreement, and he was determined that the plan should be put through. That seems to have been the only excuse for keeping the plan secret from his colleagues. The Prime Minister was highly indignant, but would not disown Cavour’s act; he merely intimated to him that he would never sit in the same cabinet with Rattazzi. Shortly afterward Cavour lent his support to electing Rattazzi President of the Chamber. D’Azeglio was again indignant, and Cavour felt that it was best that he should leave the ministry. He resigned, and was followed by all the other ministers. Their act, however, was purely a matter of sentiment, and the King commanded them to remain at their posts. Cavour endorsed this command, he saw no reason why D’Azeglio’s ministry should not continue for a time without him. He parted on the best of terms with the Premier, and in order that his presence might cause no embarrassment to the reconstructed ministry started on a journey to France and England.

This trip abroad came at a most opportune time. It gave Cavour a chance to meet French and English statesmen and learn their views of his policy of allying Rattazzi’s party with his own in order to obtain a working majority. He knew that Rattazzi was generally regarded as a reckless revolutionary, but he found that the necessity of using his aid was generally acknowledged. Cavour talked with the leaders of each party in England; he found Lord Palmerston then as always his ardent friend and admirer. Palmerston saw that the overthrow of the Italian tyrannies must depend upon the home strength of the Sardinian government, and that if that government were once firmly established on a constitutional basis it could not be long before Austria would be driven out of Italy. Palmerston promised Cavour the moral support of England, and the Italian left London delighted at what he had learned there.

In Paris Cavour met Thiers, who bade him be of good courage, and the Prince President. To the latter he devoted much time, and succeeded in making a deep impression upon the astute Napoleon. “Whether we like it or not,” the Italian wrote from Paris, “our destinies depend on France; we must be her partner in the great game which will be played sooner or later in Europe.” In the French capital Cavour found several leaders of Italian life who were living in exile; he visited Daniel Manin, the great Venetian, the idol of his city, and learned from him something of Venetian hopes. He also saw the many-sided Gioberti, “the same child of genius, who would have been a great man had he had common-sense,” said Cavour, the man who had once dreamt of a free Italy under the leadership of a great liberal Pope, and who was now in a book about to be published to show his gift of prescience by fixing on Cavour as the one man who understood the essentials of the new Italian civilization.

D’Azeglio was facing a ministerial crisis when Cavour returned to his home, and, ill with the wound he had received in the last war, besought the King to let him retire from office. He suggested that Victor Emmanuel summon Cavour, “who,” he wrote at this time, “you know is diabolically active, and fit in body and soul, and then, he enjoys it so much!” The King asked Cavour to form a ministry, naming certain restrictions, the chief one being to come to a friendly agreement with the Pope on the matter of civil marriage, but Cavour felt that to do this would be to start his work under a handicap. He suggested Count Balbo as Premier, but the latter had too small a following, and the King, judging that his country needed the strong hand of Cavour at the helm more than the friendship of Rome, asked him to form his cabinet without imposing any conditions whatever.

So came into existence what was to be known in Italian history as the “Gran Ministero,” the first in which Cavour was openly to proclaim his plans. It is curious to note that even now, when he had become the most considerable figure in Piedmont, he was not generally popular. The King did not altogether like him, the public men could not even now understand him, the people scarcely knew the real man at all. What King, public men, and people did know was that Cavour was a man of tremendous force, and a man destined to lead other men. At this time there commenced to grow up in Piedmont that blind faith in Cavour which later assumed such great proportions that the people felt that he must have his own way no matter what they might think of it, because Cavour’s way meant victory, no matter how little they might anticipate it.

Cavour chose to be President of the Council and Minister of Finance, and at once set to work to increase the resources of the country. The history of his work at this time is that of an administrator preparing with scrupulous care each detail against a coming need. He strengthened fortifications, he allowed La Marmora a free hand in the development of the army, he completed the railway system, he used all possible means to stimulate industry and increase agricultural output. He instituted new taxes, cut down the salt tax, and introduced certain free-trade measures. He followed a definite plan of preparation, regardless of popular opinion, which at one time turned so fiercely against him on the ground that he was a monopolist who was robbing the poor of bread, that his life was in danger at the hands of a mob.

Cavour had one concern, to strengthen the central government of his country, and he labored for that with little regard for other things. He was accused, particularly after Rattazzi had joined his cabinet, of seeking to win certain constituencies by promises of local aid if they would return his candidate. He understood too well the uncertain temper of the people to take any unnecessary risks, he knew that the work he was doing was essential for Italian independence, and he was willing to obtain his support as best he could. What concerned him was the fact of support, not the reason. His ultimate purpose required that the country be kept at peace until it should have reached full strength, and for this end Cavour tried to make friends with Austria, dissembling his real feelings as cleverly as he could, and sought confidence and friendly offices. To this end he discountenanced Mazzini’s attempt at revolution in Milan in February, 1853; he knew that conditions were not ready for success; he regarded Mazzini’s faith in blind outbreaks of the people as a deterrent factor in his preparation for ultimate success.

Western Europe was making ready for war in the Crimea, England and France were aligning themselves against Russia. Cavour felt what was coming, and conceived a step of marvelous daring. With his old belief in the prudence of audacity he determined to join Sardinia to France and England, to stake the future of his little kingdom on an alliance with the two great western Powers. He felt that Sardinia must now step forward as a nation or retire to the great group of little principalities. He could not tell what position Austria would take, but he resolved no matter how that country might side, to cast his lot with the west. When one recalls the size of Victor Emmanuel’s kingdom and its resources Cavour’s audacity becomes well-nigh inconceivable. When his intention was made known to the people they gaped in amazement, after these years of preparation why should they hazard all on a purely foreign war, why leave their borders unguarded to the Austrians? Cavour stood firm and unshaken, Victor Emmanuel, trusting to his minister’s star of destiny, stood by him, the people stormed, protested, besought, but all without avail. Cavour had decided that it was time to act, and so it must be time, the people had learned that there was no use in arguing with him, what he must do he must, they became fatalists under his colossal will. A demand of a guarantee of certain restrictions against Austria was sought by Cavour’s ministry, but the western Powers would not give it. England and France would both be glad to have Sardinia as an ally, but would make no promises of future help. The Sardinian Foreign Minister resigned when the attempt to obtain a guarantee failed. Cavour offered the position to D’Azeglio, but he declined it, and so, on January 10, 1855, Cavour assumed the portfolio of Foreign Affairs himself, and on the same day signed the agreement binding Sardinia to an offensive and defensive alliance with France and England. It was the first step towards making Italy again a world power.

Cavour had decided to show Europe that an Italian government could live under a liberal constitution, and that an Italian army could fight. He believed that both Lord Palmerston and the French Emperor were convinced of the former fact; he was now anxious to convince them of the latter. As matters fell out Austria remained neutral, and the allies opposed Russia alone. Napoleon, thirsting for glory for French arms, was little disposed to give the Sardinian forces a chance, and wished to keep them as a reserve at Constantinople. It required the greatest diplomacy on Cavour’s part to obtain opportunities for his troops, but when he did they more than justified him. Their spirit and powers of endurance were admirable, they seemed consciously to feel that they were being made ready for a greater and more sacred combat. In August the Piedmontese troops won a victory on the Tchernaia, Turin was delighted, and Cavour felt that his great step was being justified. The King wrote to General La Marmora, “Next year we shall have war where we had it before.”

It was at this time that Victor Emmanuel visited England and France. Cavour accompanied him, and, as always, made a close study of opinions in both those countries. He found Queen Victoria and Prince Albert deeply interested in Italian affairs, and strongly favorable to Piedmont’s hopes. Napoleon, he found, was determined to end the war in the Crimea.

In February, 1856, peace was declared. Austria, which had remained neutral, was apparently the greatest gainer by the war. At home the Sardinian government had been seriously disturbed over the question of suppression of the religious houses, a measure which Cavour and a majority of the people favored, but which the King was very loath to accept. After the Chamber of Deputies had passed the measure by an overwhelming majority, and it was being considered by the Senate, two ecclesiastics wrote to the King, promising to pay into the national treasury the sum the government expected to realize from the suppressions. Victor Emmanuel, who was an ardent Churchman, conceived that this would be a most satisfactory settlement of the whole matter, and suggested to Cavour that he agree. Cavour saw the impossibility of compromise at that hour, and declined, offering at the same time his resignation. The King, who was never quite at his ease with Cavour, and who thought he was now in a position to dispense with his services, accepted the resignation.

When the people heard of the proposed compromise they were brought to an angry crisis, and for a moment it looked as though all the past careful efforts to establish a stable government might go for nothing. Then D’Azeglio, with rare courage, wrote to the King, and pointed out the dangers that lay in his new course. He entreated him not to align himself with the reactionaries, he pointed out how such a step had caused the downfall of both Stuart and Bourbon thrones. The people desired the measure, it was too late now to withdraw it from the Senate. Victor Emmanuel heeded the words of his old counselor, recalled Cavour to office, and allowed the bill, practically as at first presented, to become law. This was the next great step in the progress towards a united Italy.

At the time of his last visit to Paris Cavour had been asked by Napoleon to submit a note of what France could do for Italy. This Cavour now prepared, asking little at this time, the main object being the Austrian evacuation of Bologna. Cavour found himself in a very difficult position, the war had closed before Austria had been drawn into it, and Sardinia was not in a sufficiently strong position to make many requests. Both the King and Cavour had confidently hoped that Austria would be forced to side with Russia. Now it was extremely doubtful what decisions the coming Congress of Paris would make, and Cavour had been privately given to understand that the Sardinian envoy to the Congress would only be allowed to attend those sessions which concerned Sardinia, and not to take his place with the envoys of the great Powers. He was exceedingly anxious that D’Azeglio should attend, but the latter refused point-blank when he learned of the subservient position he would in all probability have to take. Under these circumstances Cavour saw no alternative but to go himself, and so with considerable misgiving he set out for Paris, intent on observing and planning rather than on asking favors that might be unceremoniously refused.

The Congress of Paris of 1856 produced results far different from those the various plenipotentiaries intended. Austria came to Paris in the enviable position of the great European peace-maker, she left as tyrannical upholder of the old rÉgime. Cavour came as the representative of a small state with interests far inferior to those of the other nations, he left as the moral champion of the much abused peninsula of Italy. Austria actually conceded no territory and Sardinia gained none, but Austria was discredited in the eyes of England and France, and Sardinia more than justified. Cavour achieved a great moral victory, perhaps the greatest result any statesman can gain from a treaty of peace. He did not take a very prominent part in the actual meetings, he was very reserved, a good listener, a courteous and always affable companion. He was loyal to both his English and his French allies, he won over the Russian Count Orloff, and contrived to keep on good terms with the Austrian Count Buol, whom he had formerly known at Turin. He waited with indomitable patience until the major matters of the Congress had been discussed and disposed of, then he addressed a note to the English and French envoys inquiring into the rights of Austria to remain in occupation of the Roman Legations. The question was most important, it struck at the discussion of the temporal power of the Pope, inasmuch as that power in Romagna was dependent upon Austrian support. Moreover it gave notice that Sardinia was concerning itself with the affairs of the other Italian states.

Cavour had other projects, he was anxious to reunite Parma and Modena with Piedmont, he was eager to have their Lombard estates returned to those Italians concerned in the last revolt against Austria. He planned and plotted to accomplish both these ends, and waited. The treaty of peace was signed on March 30, and then the French President of the Congress, Count Walewski, called another session by order of the Emperor. This session was to deal with the Austrian and French occupation of Naples. The difficulty with regard to Cavour’s original note was that in questioning Austria’s right to uphold the Pope in Romagna it also questioned France’s right to occupy Rome for the same purpose. Cavour spoke on the Austrian occupation, but passed over the French. It seems, however, that Napoleon, who had originally taken Rome to please the clerical party, was now willing to withdraw from Rome if he could do so without offending that party, and at the same time cause Austria to withdraw. Lord Clarendon, the British plenipotentiary, urged the withdrawal of both Powers, which he claimed stood on the same footing. He objected to both occupations as disturbing to the balance of power, he denounced the government of the King of Naples, he found occasion to say what the most ardent Italian would have liked to say, and his unreserved ardor gained added force from the caution of Cavour. The effect of the Englishman’s speech was striking, he put into words all Cavour’s contentions, and left the Italian in the enviable position of having demanded nothing, but of having all the claims of justice on his side. The Austrian envoy was indignant, and the session adjourned without tangible result. The impression left upon every one’s mind, however, was that Sardinia had championed Italy against Austria, and that it intended to prepare to make its championship more definite than by diplomatic notes.

Cavour returned to Turin with the satisfaction of having placed Italy’s wrongs openly before the world. The redress of these wrongs was now matter for European consideration, no longer the mere object of secret society plots. Patriots in all the Italian states were quick to realize this, they saw that at last their national rights had been forced into attention, Cavour’s note had cemented all their local causes. There were still many in Piedmont who did not understand his policy, and many who would have preferred his winning of a single duchy to Sardinia rather than urging the withdrawal of Austria from the Papal States, but in spite of these doubters the great majority acclaimed his cause, and felt that, whether they understood him or not, he was the one man who could lead them to deliverance. On his return his policy became more clear, he was aiming at an Italian nation under one king, he was looking far ahead, and the other great nationalists who had been puzzled by his conflicting declarations in the past saw that his goal was theirs. The goal had unquestionably been in his thoughts throughout all his political career, now he came out frankly, no longer simply Prime Minister of Sardinia, but spokesman for Italy.

War must come as the next step. Cavour now for the first time took account of the practical use to be made of those great waves of popular feeling that were continually recurring, those heroic forces Mazzini had been calling into being. He met Garibaldi, and found that he was a great practical man, likely to be of infinite value to the country. He went among the people and studied how their enthusiasms could be turned to best account, he planned with leaders of earlier revolts and convinced them that he was simply patient until the time came to strike, no more a reactionary than they.

In addition to the Foreign Office Cavour assumed the Ministry of Finance. He was unwilling to trust too much to other men, he was anxious to know exactly how all the affairs of the nation stood. The army he knew was rapidly improving, he studied how he might increase the finances without imposing too heavy taxes. He moved the arsenal from Genoa to Spezia, he insisted on completing the tunneling of Mont Cenis, and all these steps showed that he was concerned now with the affairs of the whole peninsula rather than with the guidance of one small state. As one of his political opponents said of him in detraction at this time, “the Prime Minister had all Italy in view, and was preparing for the future kingdom.” He had made himself practically the entire government, from King to peasant all classes followed him with a blind faith in his triumphant destiny as a leader. Still he waited, preparing for the hour to strike.

On the evening of January 14, 1858, Felice Orsini, a Romagnol revolutionist, attempted to assassinate the French Emperor with a bomb as he was driving to the opera. It was expected that this act would cause a bitter estrangement between France and Italy, but, although for a short time there was a considerable diplomatic interchange of notes, the ultimate result was quite the reverse. We must remember that the wrongs under which Italy labored were in reality always on Napoleon’s mind, that he sincerely desired to free and reunite the Italian nation, although at times his ideas of expediency made him appear more of an enemy than a friend. As a young man he had himself been a revolutionary, probably at one time a member of the Carbonari, he had thrilled long ago at Mazzini’s call, and he was an ardent nationalist. When he heard Orsini’s last words to him, “Free my country, and the blessings of twenty-five million Italians will go with you!” he knew that it was not hatred of himself, but the desire in some way to bring about Italian independence that had inspired the assassin. The words and acts of Napoleon wind in and out of this story of Italian liberation in a manner only too often difficult to reconcile, but it would seem that his interest was in reality sincere, and that he wished to help Italy as much as he could without jeopardizing the interests of France.

Events began to march, certain ideas were exchanged between influential persons at Paris and Turin; in June Dr. Conneau, an intimate of the Emperor, happened to visit Turin, and saw Victor Emmanuel and Cavour. It was stated that Napoleon intended to make a private visit to PlombiÈres. Shortly after Cavour announced that his health required a change of scene and that he should go away into the mountains. By a strange coincidence he also went to PlombiÈres. Napoleon saw him, they spent two days closeted together; when Cavour left the two men understood each other. The details of what was known as the Pact of PlombiÈres are not positive, the understanding appears to have been that a rising in Massa and Carrara should give a pretext for a war to expel the Austrians. After such expulsion the country in the valley of the Po, the Roman Legations, and the Ancona Marches were to be united in a kingdom of Upper Italy. Savoy was to be given to France, possession of Nice was left unsettled, Victor Emmanuel’s daughter, the Princess Clotilde, was to be given in marriage to Prince Napoleon.

Napoleon had shown his interest in Italy, but Cavour left PlombiÈres fully alive to the fact that actual help was still far distant. Austria would be hard to defeat, and Cavour did not wish France to provide all the forces for war. He already foresaw that it might be difficult to insure France’s withdrawal after victory. Furthermore he realized that England, to which he was always looking, was well content with the present peaceful situation of affairs, and would regard any offensive step by France or Sardinia as unwarrantable. He saw that Prussia and Russia held the same view. No country wanted war except his own, and possibly France, provided it could be made to appear that Austria and not France was the attacking party. It seemed very certain that Austria would stand much before putting herself in the false position of wantonly opening war. Again Cavour had to be patient and plan how Austria might be made to take that step.

While he waited Cavour organized a volunteer Italian army under the name of the Hunters of the Alps, he laid campaign plans with Garibaldi, he knit all the patriots of Italy into one common cause. Even the old conservative leaders came over to him, D’Azeglio wrote him, “To-day it is no longer a question of discussing your policy, but of making it succeed.” The King supported him magnificently, Cavour found that his hardest work now was to hold King and people back. Still he would not open war, he knew too well that he must have the support of other countries than his own.

At the New Year’s Day reception in Paris, 1859, Napoleon made his famous comment to the Austrian Ambassador, “I regret that relations between us are so strained; tell your sovereign, however, that my sentiments for him are still the same.” The words created a sensation, no one was certain what lay back of them in the French Emperor’s mind. Cavour heard them and they gave him hope. When the time came for Victor Emmanuel to open Parliament Cavour prepared the speech from the Throne with the greatest care and had a copy submitted in advance to Napoleon. Napoleon strengthened it, and Victor Emmanuel changed it still further for the better. When the King read it the effect upon his hearers was that of a call to arms in an heroic cause. “If Piedmont, small in territory, yet counts for something in the councils of Europe, it is because it is great by reason of the ideas it represents and the sympathies it inspires. This position doubtless creates for us many dangers; nevertheless, while respecting treaties, we cannot remain insensible to the cry of grief that reaches us from so many parts of Italy.” The European Powers saw that the old treaties of 1815 were in imminent danger. None of them realized who had in reality penned these words.

Cavour was now at one of the great crises of his life work, and bending every effort to secure Napoleon’s consent to a definite treaty. He succeeded in that the Emperor, delighted at the marriage of Prince Napoleon to a princess of one of the oldest houses in Europe, directed the bridegroom to sign an agreement obligating France to come to Piedmont’s aid should the latter nation be subjected to any overt act of aggression on the part of Austria. This agreement was intended to be kept altogether secret, but rumors that a treaty had been signed crept abroad. Cavour now waited for Austria’s aggressive act, and sought to gain national loans at home, and to arouse interest on Piedmont’s behalf abroad. The English government would not enthuse over Italian wrongs, they were zealous to maintain the present footing, but Cavour maintained his diplomatic suavity and kept the English friendship against the day when he might need it against France.

The spring of 1859 saw the natural crisis rapidly approaching, Mazzini’s world forces again ready to break loose. Into Piedmont swarmed the youth of all northern Italy, girt with sword and gun, palpitant for strife. The government could not hold the rising tide much longer. Cavour exclaimed, “They may throw me into the Po, but I will not stop it!” And yet he had to wait. Austria must first act on the offensive. The last week of Lent came and Cavour stood face to face with the climax that was to make or mar his plans.

The story of those two weeks is tremendously dramatic. The Russian government proposed a Congress of the Powers at Paris to adjust the disordered state of Italy. England and Prussia agreed, Austria accepted subject to the two conditions that Piedmont should disarm and that she should be excluded from the Congress. The French Minister, Count Walewski, said for Napoleon that France could not plunge into war on Piedmont’s account, and that Piedmont was not entitled to a voice in the Congress. Napoleon seemed to have listened to the counsels of the Empress and his ministers, who were opposed to war, and Cavour found himself without a spokesman. It was a black hour when he wrote to the Emperor that Italy was desperate; in reply he was called to Paris. He saw Napoleon, but obtained no promise of help. He threatened that Victor Emmanuel would abdicate, he himself go to America and publish all the correspondence between Napoleon and himself. He used every entreaty, but to no effect. He returned to Turin, where he was met with the wildest demonstrations of regard.

Now England made a suggestion, the government proposed that all the Italian states should be admitted to the proposed Congress, and that Austria as well as Piedmont should disarm. The French government considered this a happy proposal, and wrote to Cavour strongly recommending consent. The Minister understood what the disbanding of all his volunteers, the reduction of his army, would mean to Italy, but he saw no choice but to submit. All the Powers were against him, either course seemed to presage absolute defeat. On April 17 he sent a note agreeing to the disarming, and gave himself up to despair. History says that he was on the point of committing suicide, and was only saved by a devoted friend who pleaded with him. At the end of a long stormy scene Cavour controlled himself. “Be tranquil; we will face it together,” he said.

Fortune changed; the very day on which Cavour submitted, the Austrian government replied slightingly to the English proposal and stated that Austria would itself call upon Piedmont to disarm. It was an error of the first magnitude, the act of aggression for which Cavour had so long waited. At the time Austria was probably ignorant of Napoleon’s secret agreement with Piedmont, and also that Cavour had consented to disarm. The fact of Piedmont’s submission to the wishes of France and England, and Austria’s arbitrary note, revolutionized the situation. Piedmont was saved by a marvelous turn of fortune.

April 25, while the Piedmont Chamber was conferring absolute powers on the King, Cavour was handed a note, on which was written: “They are here. I have seen them.” “They” meant the Austrian envoys. Cavour left the Chamber, saying, “It is the last Piedmontese parliament which has just ended; next year we will open the first Italian parliament.” He met the envoys and read their message, the Sardinian army to be put on a peace footing, the Italian volunteers to be disbanded; an answer, yes or no, to be given within three days. If that answer is unsatisfactory to Austria a resort to arms.

Cavour accepted the three days allowed him in order to push his preparations, then he replied to the Austrian note, saying that Piedmont had agreed to the English proposals with the assent of Prussia, Russia, and France, and that he had nothing further to add. He took leave of the Austrian envoys courteously, and then, radiantly happy, joined his colleagues, saying, “The die is cast.” Fortune had stood by him and had placed Piedmont in the most enviable position he could have wished. He had staked everything on his acquiescing, with scarcely one chance of success, but that chance had come and he had won.

The war opened with the victory of the allies at Magenta, Milan was free, and at Solferino the Italians and French gained Lombardy. The Sardinian army won its spurs gloriously. Cavour, who had sent La Marmora to lead the troops, and had himself become Minister of War, showed the greatest skill in attending to his army’s commissariat. At the same time he was watching the rest of Italy, Parma and Modena returned to the old alliance of 1848, and Cavour sent special commissioners to control them. He was anxious that all the states should unite. He was constantly afraid that one of the Powers would step in and seize Tuscany. He kept his eye on Florence and supported the efficient dictatorship of Ricasoli.

Mazzini had prophesied to Cavour some months earlier: “You will be in the camp in some corner of Lombardy when the peace which betrays Venice will be signed without your knowledge.” That was exactly what happened. On July 6 Napoleon opened negotiations at Villafranca with Austria for peace. Perhaps he had learned that the French people were no longer enthusiastic over the war and wished to devote himself to his own defense, perhaps he saw that victories were building up a stronger Italy than he cared to have, perhaps he feared a possible intervention by Prussia. His whole conduct towards Italy was one of most perplexing changes, certain it is that he now deliberately threw away all the advantages of victory and made every loyal Italian his enemy. Had he been more of a statesman he would have foreseen the consequences of his acts. The terms of the peace were that Venice should be left to Austria, Modena, Tuscany, and Romagna given back to their petty Princes, the Pope made president of a league in which Austria was to be a party. It was the basest betrayal of Italian hopes. Cavour was absolutely prostrated, he saw all his wonderful plans shattered beyond redemption, he saw himself totally dishonored in the sight of the people he had led into war. He rushed to the camp of Victor Emmanuel and advised him either to abdicate or fight on alone. In that moment the King rose superior to his great Minister, he decided to sign the treaty and to wait. Victor Emmanuel, more bitterly disappointed than on the battlefield of Novara, showed that he was as great a statesman as he was a leader of his people.

Cavour thought of plunging into battle in the hope of being killed, he thought of joining Mazzini in extreme revolutionary measures, but meanwhile until a new ministry could be formed he was compelled to continue his government at Turin. It became his duty to notify the commissioners he had appointed for Florence, Parma, and Modena to abandon those charges, and he did so, but wrote them privately to stay where they were. Farini wrote him from Modena that he should treat the returning Duke as an enemy of Italy, and Cavour replied, “The Minister is dead; the friend applauds your decision.” He had thrown off his old mask of diplomacy and become for the moment one with the revolutionaries.

Succeeded by Rattazzi as Prime Minister, Cavour went to stay for a short period of rest with his relatives in Switzerland. He expected to see Napoleon seize Savoy and Nice, although he had not performed his part in the Pact of PlombiÈres. Again Napoleon surprised him, he returned to Paris without pressing any claim to new territory. Meanwhile the people of central Italy were asking for union with Piedmont, and all the Powers were much concerned with their disposition, particularly England, which under the ministry of Lord Palmerston, an old and warm friend of Cavour, was now commencing openly to champion Italian independence. Palmerston did not trust Napoleon and regretted that the only Italian statesman whom he considered able to cope with the French was out of office. The British Premier wrote at this time, “They talk a great deal in Paris of Cavour’s intrigues. This seems to me unjust. If they mean that he has worked for the aggrandisement and for the emancipation of Italy from foreign yoke and Austrian domination, this is true, and he will be called a patriot in history. The means he has employed may be good or bad. I do not know what they have been, but the object in view is, I am sure, the good of Italy. The people of the Duchies have as much right to change their sovereigns as the English people, or the French, or the Belgian, or the Swedish.”

Napoleon still had five divisions of his army in Lombardy and his attitude toward the annexation of the central states was most important. No one knew exactly what that attitude was. He told the Piedmontese that he could not allow the union of Tuscany, but at the same time he told Austrian and Papal sympathizers that he was too deeply attached to the principle of Italian independence to allow him to make war on the nationalists. Rattazzi did not know which course to adopt, although the King was quite willing to risk everything in succoring Tuscany. Then Napoleon suddenly proposed another of his Paris Congresses to settle the difficulty, and Piedmont turned to Cavour to speak its claims.

The Congress never met, but Cavour’s appointment as envoy and the zealous support of the English government caused the downfall of the ministry, and in January, 1860, Cavour again took command of the state. His policy now was plain, “Let the people of central Italy declare themselves what they want,” he said, “and we will stand by their decisions, come what may.” The people of central Italy wanted union and Cavour turned again to see what Napoleon would do. What he would do was gradually becoming plainer. He would only sell his assent to the annexation of the states in return for Savoy and Nice. They were the old stakes of the Pact of PlombiÈres, and Cavour had to decide whether they should go.

His decision to sacrifice Savoy and Nice for the peaceful annexation of central Italy has been the most bitterly criticised act in Cavour’s life. It can never be determined whether the sacrifice was absolutely essential, or whether in time Italy might not have been united without that step. In that day the judgment of the best-informed was that Napoleon would have sent his army into Tuscany unless his desire was met. Cavour had only agreed to consider the sacrifice at PlombiÈres because he was willing to go to any length to secure Italy from foreign domination. He was willing to pay the same price now although he realized what the cost would be to his name. The King had given his daughter as the price of the French alliance. He sadly agreed to the further sacrifice. Both Victor Emmanuel and Cavour were looking towards their ultimate goal.

It was a tremendous responsibility. Napoleon insisted that the treaty should be secret and should not be submitted to the Piedmont Parliament. He knew that England would be indignant when the news became known. So Cavour was forced to keep the decision secret and to prepare to shoulder by himself all the wrath of his people. On March 24, 1860, after hours of consideration, Cavour signed. Then he prepared to summon a Parliament which might as he foresaw indict him on a charge of high treason for his unconstitutional act.

The Parliament which for the first time represented Piedmont, Lombardy, Parma, Modena, and Romagna, met on April 2. Guerrazzi made a most bitter attack on the ministry, in which he likened Cavour to the Earl of Clarendon under Charles the Second, “hard towards the King, truculent to Parliament, who thought in his pride that he could do anything.” Cavour replied with a stinging description of the men with whom he had had to contend, and avowed his complete responsibility for the treaty. A large majority of the Parliament voted with him, but it was a severe test of his power and popularity. Garibaldi, born in Nice, never forgave him, many of his countrymen considered his act absolutely unwarrantable, a monstrous piece of base ingratitude; he himself knew the price he had paid only too well, but he believed that it was a price he was forced to pay if Italy were ever to be free.

The next step in the dramatic history followed almost immediately, and although it took place without the open approval of Cavour there is no question but that he was secretly hoping for its success. The King of Naples and Sicily was in hard straits, his people were now continually fomenting revolutions, Austria no longer came to his aid as she had formerly. The feeling throughout Europe was so general that Francis II. stood on the edge of the precipice that on April 15 Victor Emmanuel wrote him and told him that his only hope of safety lay in granting his subjects an immediate constitution. Francis, like a true Bourbon, postponed action until it was too late. Meantime northern revolutionists were waking to the idea of sending an expedition south to free Sicily, and Garibaldi’s name was on every tongue. Cavour did not wish Garibaldi to go, he knew the tremendous odds against his succeeding, and he realized that in case of success serious difficulties must at once arise. He was tempted to keep Garibaldi at home by force, but the King would not listen to such action. On May 5 Garibaldi and his famous Legion sailed from Quarto, and with their sailing an accomplished fact Cavour gave them such help as he could.

Good fortune tended on Garibaldi and the Thousand, they made their landing on the Sicilian coast and swept the royal troops before them. The English fleet did not actually aid them, but were not sorry for their happy progress. The rest of the world looked on and wondered if this sudden attack on southern Italy was another of Cavour’s coups. Most observers considered that it was. The King of Naples said that Garibaldi was a blind; behind him was ranged Piedmont, intent on the fall of his dynasty.

Garibaldi was hailed at Palermo as dictator and his victory over Sicily was complete. He had always acted in Victor Emmanuel’s name, but Cavour feared that his followers were too deeply imbued with Mazzini’s republican ideas to be eager to join with Piedmont. He was mistaken, he did not then altogether understand Garibaldi, and he never did entire justice to Mazzini’s principles.

If the European Powers had protested, Garibaldi could not have crossed to the mainland, but England would not accept Napoleon’s proposal to intervene, and Naples was left to itself. Cavour understood that the Kingdom of Francis must fall, and only hoped that it might be by diplomacy rather than at the hands of Garibaldi’s troops. His plans to this end failed, Garibaldi reached Calabria and began his triumphal march to Naples. He had become a name with which to conjure all classes of the people, victory over every evil must follow his footsteps, the Kingdom of Naples, wretchedly weak, fell before him. Garibaldi became a hero throughout Europe, it was now Cavour’s task to treat diplomatically with such a victorious force.

In order that Garibaldi might not attempt to sweep north through Papal territory Cavour determined to send the army of northern Italy down into Umbria and the Marches of Ancona. It was a direct defiance of the temporal power of the Pope, but all discerning men had seen that the step must soon come. Moreover it was the desire now of practically all Italy to be united, the flood had swept so far that they would be content with nothing but the whole peninsula. Again Europe made no effectual protest, Napoleon was as usual undetermined, Lord Palmerston eager for Italy’s success. Ancona fell, and Victor Emmanuel marched on into Neapolitan territory, delivering the last central provinces from Austrian influence. The Austrian government did not declare war, perhaps they realized at last that the world was moving forward, not backward, and that they had had their day.

Garibaldi’s last victory occurred on the Volturno on October 1. The royal forces and the victorious Legion had practically met. Cavour was strongly tempted to declare Victor Emmanuel dictator, but his belief in constitutional methods triumphed. He would not bedim one ray of Garibaldi’s glory, but he wanted to cement the constitutional monarchy. Disputes arose between the royal generals and the revolutionists, Cavour insisted that the Garibaldian troops should be honorably treated. He knew that Garibaldi had not forgiven him for the sacrifice of Nice, but he could place higher his own admiration for the hero. “Garibaldi,” he wrote to the King, “has become my most violent enemy, but I desire for the good of Italy, and the honor of your Majesty, that he should retire entirely satisfied.”

Tremendous popular influences were at work to have a dictator appointed to govern southern Italy for at least a year. Cavour might have consented to the popular acclaim for Garibaldi, or have compelled the appointment of one of his own party. He did neither, instead he appealed to the Parliament. He introduced a bill authorizing the Government to accept the immediate annexation of such provinces of central and southern Italy as expressed by universal suffrage their desire to become a part of the constitutional Kingdom of Victor Emmanuel. Parliament passed this bill on October 11. It was still in doubt whether the Garibaldians would agree. On October 13 Garibaldi called his followers together, and declared that if the people voted for annexation they should have it. Then he issued the order that “the two Sicilies form an integral part of Italy, one and indivisible under the constitutional King, Victor Emmanuel, and his successors.” He had made the King a present of his conquests. It is probable that Cavour had truly estimated Garibaldi’s depths of patriotism.

Napoleon still kept his troops at Gaeta, but was finally brought to see that the conflict could only end in the one way. The French fleet withdrew, and the city surrendered February 13, 1861. Francis II. went into exile. Rome still held out, but Cavour was determined that the Pope’s temporal power must end and that city become the capital of the new kingdom. A general election to the new Parliament took place, and the returns showed a large majority pledged to Cavour’s views. When the new Chamber met their first act was to vote Victor Emmanuel’s assumption of the title of King of Italy. It had been proposed by some that the title be King of the Italians, but Cavour insisted that only King of Italy spoke of the accomplished fact of the new nation.

On March 25, 1861, Cavour stated in Parliament that Italy must have Rome as its capital, but on the distinct understanding that this act should in no sense denote the servitude of the Church. He proclaimed a free church in a free state as the solution of the historic problem, events had shown that a power which could only be sustained by means of foreign support was not destined to last. Parliament voted for Rome as the capital, and Cavour opened negotiations with the Vatican. He found argument there vain, and turned to France in the hope of securing an ally who could conciliate the Pope. Meanwhile he was busied with the disposition of Garibaldi’s troops, which were persistently disregarded by the regular army. Garibaldi was indignant and stated in Parliament that Cavour was “driving the country into civil war.” Cavour, stung by the words, nevertheless held his peace and replied calmly. The breach between the two men was made up, they met as friends a little later at the King’s desire.

In May, 1861, it was seen that Cavour was ailing, he had worked too hard and given himself no chance to rest. The last day he sat in Parliament he fell ill with fever, and from that he never recovered. Unto the very end he was deep in plans for the new nation; on June 6 he died.

The tale of the birth of the Italian nation reads like a romance, barrier after barrier, seemingly insurmountable, fell at the touch of a wand, and the wand was ever in Cavour’s hand. Mazzini had breathed a new hope into Italy, Victor Emmanuel had given a noble leader to the cause, Garibaldi had fought and conquered, but it was Cavour who had so fused their efforts that they led to the single goal. He was always the Italian first, the Minister of Piedmont afterwards. In history he will figure as a great patriot, in his lifetime he was recognized throughout Europe as the great statesman.

It is reported that Metternich in his old age said, “There is only one diplomatist in Europe, but he is against us; it is M. de Cavour.” Palmerston always recognized him as the one man who could unite his country and foil Napoleon, Bismarck studied him as a pattern for his own later efforts, and Napoleon, his lifelong ally and opponent, conceded that Cavour alone impressed him as a genius of the first rank in statecraft. His contemporaries could not always understand him, he had so often to give up the immediate advantage for the future gain, he had to wear his mask so frequently even among his own people that men grew to believe he preferred the circuitous to the straight path. From the vantage point of a later day it is possible to see how frail was the skiff he navigated and how perilous the seas. It was so easy for the Powers of Europe, secure themselves, to prefer peace to any fresh disturbance. What did the welfare of a few small states matter to them? Italy was chronically misgoverned. Cavour had to take each forward step in fear that he might call down upon Piedmont the avalanche of Europe; his one ally, the French Emperor, was as stable as quicksilver, never two days the same. It almost passes belief that Cavour did manage to sail his skiff into port, he could only have done it by alternate patience and audacity.

Cavour did not live to see Rome or Venice become part of the Kingdom, but it was his work that made those later triumphs possible. He had foreseen their coming, he had a genius for foresight, even in the early days when he seemed speaking only for Piedmont he was planning for Italy. But in his planning for the great goal he never forgot to make certain of each step, his diplomacy was a logical sequence of accepted opportunities, he believed in taking the straight path if that were possible, if not in circling the obstacle that blocked his way.

The story is told that when the wife of the Russian Minister at Turin was shopping in that city the clerk suddenly left her and ran to the door. When he returned he said, “I saw Count Cavour passing, and wishing to know how our affairs are going on, I wanted to see how he looked. He looks in good spirits, so everything is going right.” The story illustrates how, after Cavour had once taken the helm, the people of Piedmont trusted him, growing more and more confident that he would lead them aright although they could not always see the logic of his steps. Few statesmen have received more complete allegiance from a people than Cavour ultimately won, but no statesman ever deserved the gratitude of his countrymen more unreservedly.