Chapter V: Part 5

Thenceforth Mazzini's work lost all accord with that of the monarchy. He had not lost his faith in the great destiny of Italy, but he despaired of seeing that destiny fulfilled as he might wish within his lifetime. Forty thousand persons signed the petition for his amnesty, he was elected again and again by Messina as its deputy, but the party of the Moderates would not have him in the Chamber. Continued opposition made his fame only the greater among the people, he assumed the proportions of a national myth, to many he had become an actual demi-god. Secretly he traveled about Italy, working, with an energy altogether disproportionate to his strength, in the cause of a republic. He had many followers in Genoa, and one of them has left a picture of Mazzini's entrance to a meeting. "A low knock was heard at the door, and there he was in body and soul, the great magician, who struck the fancy of the people like a mythical hero. Our hearts leaped, and we went reverently to meet that great soul. He advanced with a child's frank courtesy and a divine smile, shaking hands like an Englishman, and addressing each of us by name, as if our names were written on our foreheads. He was not disguised; he wore cloth shoes, and a capote, and with his middle, upright stature, he looked like a philosopher straight from his study, who never dreamed of troubling any police in the world."

He found time to write his remarkable treatise on religion, "From the Council to God," while he prepared plans for a new revolution. This time he intended to land in Sicily. The attempt was foolhardy, he was arrested at Palermo, and confined at Gaeta, where the Bourbons had not long before made their last stand. Almost forty years before, at the outset of his career, he had watched the Mediterranean from his prison at Savona, now he watched the same deep blue sea from Gaeta. He wrote here, "The nights are very beautiful; the stars shine with a luster one sees only in Italy. I love them like sisters, and link them to the future in a thousand ways. If I could choose I should like to live in almost absolute solitude, working at my historical book or at some other, just from a feeling of duty, and only wishing to see for a moment, now and then, some one I did not know, some poor woman that I could help, some workingmen I could advise, the doves of Zurich, and nothing else."

Rome fell, and Mazzini's captivity came to an end. He passed through the city where twenty-one years before he had been Triumvir, and, seeking to avoid all popular demonstrations, went to Genoa. There he fell ill, and his failing strength made successive attacks more and more frequent. He traveled a little more, and then in March, 1872, died at a friend's house in Pisa. He had lived to see Italy united, but in a very different manner from that of which he had dreamed.

To the republicans of Europe, Mazzini's voice was that of a great prophet for half the Nineteenth Century, to the Italians he was the voice of Italy itself. He was the precursor of unity, of independence, of courageous self-denial, without him Cavour might have planned in vain, and Garibaldi been no more than an inconspicuous lieutenant. He had the two greatest of gifts, an ideal and the faith that knows no defeat, yet he was not simply the idealist nor the devotee, for he could stir other men to action through his own belief. A friend, comparing him with Kossuth, said: "Now I write of him who seems to my judgment to be, like Saul, above all his fellows ... the one man needed excitement to stir his spirit ... the soul of the other was as an inner lamp shining through him always. The strength of Mazzini's personal influence lay here. You could not doubt his glance."

There was a certain kinship between Mazzini and Lincoln, simplicity and a boundless love of the weak and the oppressed was the keynote of both lives. Both were emancipators, but both were infinitely more, men whose whole lives bore eloquent testimony of their noble spirits. Lincoln loved men as Mazzini loved them, Mazzini and Lincoln both knew the suffering that comes from being continually misunderstood. When Lincoln was assassinated, the great Italian envied the man who had died knowing that his life's cause had been accomplished.

Throughout one of the most tangled and turbulent epochs of history, Mazzini's ideals never changed; the principles of "Young Italy" were the principles of his Triumvirate and of his prison life at Gaeta. He was for a United Italy and a republic. At times he could postpone the latter aim for the former, but never disregard it. And what he was for Italy, he was for the whole world. He insisted on the brotherhood of nations, on the paramount duty of all nations toward humanity. Whosoever, he believed, separates families from families, and nations from nations, divides what God meant to be indissoluble. He looked to Italy to show the other nations how to live in freedom and equality, and to Rome to pronounce a new and greater religion of majestic tolerance. Had Italy been freed early in his career, he must have become a great religious teacher; even as it was, his power was that of an apostle, and his appeal to the soul as well as to the mind. Men who knew him loved him as something finer than themselves, a man closer to God, one of His disciples.

His personal life was one long record of self-sacrifice, his home, his family, his love, his comfort, even the most meager necessities of life were given to the cause, nothing was too much for him to do, nothing too trivial for him to undertake, could he help his country or one of his countrymen an iota thereby. He could appreciate other men's happiness and in a way share it with them; he knew little or nothing of envy, vanity, or malice; he would let any leader have the glory of helping Italy, so long as the result was gained. More than that, he could bear the continual undervaluation of the English among whom he lived, he could read what Carlyle wrote, "Of Italian democracies and Young Italy's sorrows, of extraneous Austrian emperors in Milan, or poor old chimerical Popes in Bologna, I know nothing and desire to know nothing," and yet continue Carlyle's friend; he could bear the sting of having his name coupled with every attempt at assassination, when there were few things he abhorred more than secret violence. His idea of duty was so high, and had so absorbed all the petty spirits of his nature, that he could endure anything for that cause, and indeed embraced eagerly whatever came to him under that banner.

The great authority on heroes says of the hero as prophet: "The great man was always as lightning out of Heaven; the rest of men waited for him like fuel, and then they too would flame." So the world had waited for Giuseppe Mazzini. Other men bore much and labored much for the sake of a united fatherland, but none other gave such lightning to their world. The prophet may not actually lay the stones of history, but he breathes the spirit of life into the builders. He is mankind's greatest friend and hope, who points out the road human souls would take. Mazzini stands with Dante and Savonarola as the third great prophet of Italian history who spoke with a world voice.

CAVOUR, THE STATESMAN

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.