menu_book Chapter 19

Section 19 of From Metternich to Bismarck by Lionel Cecil Jain. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami. Chapter 7, The Union of Italy, Part 2. For it was without the consent of England that Napoleon accepted the basis of peace embodied in the ultimatum which the court of Vienna now presented at Petersburg. The Tsar was required to concede the four points under threat of an Austrian attack,

and Alexander II, who had none of his father's obstinate determination to resist to the bitter end, was perhaps not unwilling to bow to such a display of superior force. And as soon as the basis of peace had been accepted by Russia, the conclusion of a definitive treaty was not long delayed. Napoleon III gained one more advantage, such as it was, by securing that Paris should be the scene of negotiations. For the rest, he might well rejoice at deliverance from the complications

in which he had become involved. For after some three years of conflict, the Crimean War ended in a Peace, March 1856, which left the Eastern question as far from solution as ever. The Treaty of Paris restored the territorial status quo as between Russia and the Ottoman Empire. The integrity of the latter was guaranteed, and it was laid down that the powers would not take action in future on behalf of the Christian subjects of the port. The principalities and Serbia were

granted self-government under the suzerainty of the Sultan and the protection of Europe. Russia was excluded from the Danube by a slight alteration of her frontier, and the Black Sea was neutralized. In the course of the next twenty years the futility of this peace was amply illustrated. It was found to be utterly impossible to maintain the integrity of the sultan's dominions, or to ignore the complaints of his Christian subjects, or to prevent Russia

from using Sebastopol as a naval base. Indeed, the importance of the Crimean War does not lie in its effect upon the eastern question, or even in its effect upon the actual belligerence. It did serve to illustrate the essential insincerity of the French emperor, who, following the example of England at Utrecht, acted throughout the negotiations as the friend of his enemy. But such illustration was hardly needed, and the interest of the war lies rather

in its influence upon the position of Austria. The court of Vienna had been guilty of the fatal error of indecision. It had effectually alienated Russia by its occupation of the principalities and by its final ultimatum. It had failed to win the affection of the Western powers, since it had taken no active part in the struggle. As a result, Austria remained isolated in Europe, and the effect of her isolation at once appeared. Sardinia secured the right to be represented at

the Congress of Paris in the teeth of protests from Vienna. Cavour shared in the debates as the equal of the minister of the Habsburgs. And it was this knowledge of Austrian isolation which paved the way for the events which followed in Italy and in Germany. A state has seldom committed a more fatal blunder than that committed by the ministers of Francis Joseph when they sacrificed the invaluable friendship of Russia to their fear of that power's aggression in the

Near East. But the blunders of Austria would have been far less serious had there not been ready at hand two men capable of turning them to account against the Habsburgs and in the interests of the enemies of that house. Few kings have ascended a throne in more unfortunate circumstances than did Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia. His father, crushed at Novara, had abandoned his crown and country. The new sovereign was compelled to begin his reign by concluding a hasty peace with a

victorious foe, and was left to face difficulties stupendous enough to have broken a less steadfast heart. But Victor Emmanuel possessed the very qualities needed in his position. Somewhat cold and unenthusiastic, clear-sighted rather than far-sighted, alive to facts rather than wedded to ideals, he had all that firmness of will which had been so fatally lacking in Charles Albert, and this firmness enabled him with a bankrupt treasury and a discredited army to adopt

a definite policy and to hold to it through all perils and in the face of all evil report. Setting the achievement of Italian unity and the securing of revenge on Austria before him as his ultimate goal, he prepared the way by maintaining constitutionalism in his kingdom, despite the blandishments of the Court of Vienna, and by pursuing a liberal course in the affairs of church and state, despite the complaints and threats of Pius IX, and the pessimism of such

conservatives as Datsalio. And he was fortunate in finding a minister equally capable of realizing necessities and of sacrificing unattainable ideals in order to secure practical good. Mazzini may excite admiration for his lofty enthusiasm, Garibaldi by his heroic daring, and both did something, perhaps did much, to promote the union of Italy. But that union would certainly have been very slowly accomplished if it had depended for completion on the efforts of

the journalist and the freelance. It was the cold-blooded statesmanship of Cavour, which brought a dream within the range of practical politics. The minister was indeed the necessary counterpart to the king. Rather more idealistic, somewhat more inspiring than Victor Emmanuel, he had also that calm good sense which enabled him to see the limitations of Sardinia. He knew well enough that the reputation of his country in Italy could only be preserved by a

consistently liberal policy, that any concession to reaction would revive those memories of the Prince of Carignano, which the devotion of Charles Albert had but recently obliterated, and he was equally aware that Sardinia, unaided, could never drive the Austrians from Lombardy, that an ally must be secured, and that to secure an ally a price must be paid. Thus the policy which he adopted centered round two main points, the pursuit of liberal ideals

at home and the gaining of the necessary alliance abroad. It was in order to secure the latter point that Kavur entered the Crimean War. Some obscure disputes with Russia or even an altruistic solicitude for the welfare of the Ottoman Empire, could not afford a reasonable cause's belly. But the opportunity of raising the reputation of his country was too favorable to be lost. If Sardinia were to make friends, it was necessary that she should show that this

friendship and enmity were alike worthy of regard, and this she did show. Cernaia, to some extent, wiped out the stain of Custoza and Novara. The soldiers trained by La Marmara bore well comparison with those of Victoria and Napoleon III. Nor did the advantage of the intervention end there. Sardinia attracted the attention of Europe, and more especially of England and France, the only powers which could be expected to sympathize with her aims. She gained a diplomatic

triumph over Austria by the admission of her representative to the Congress of Paris, and most of all, she was able to raise the whole question of the state of Italy. In no uncertain language, Cavour pointed out that Austrian rule was as unpopular as it was severe, and that the abuse of government throughout the peninsula was mainly to be attributed to the sinister influence of Vienna, and while his tactful conduct won him the respect of the

assembled diplomatists, the Sardinian minister succeeded in arousing the sympathetic interest of both the Western powers. In the case of England, to whom Cavour first turned, that interest was merely sentimental. The cabinet of London gave Sardinia good wishes, but confessed itself unable to offer more material aid. Napoleon III, however, was greatly impressed by the sad tale of Italian wrongs. The sentimental side of his nature was moved. The practical side saw a

new chance of advancing the interest of the emperor of the French. To go to the help of Sardinia, to wage a successful war with Austria, might well gratify French liberals, prove his own devotion to the cause of the oppressed, and display him as pursuing the historical foreign policy of France. At the Congress of Paris, he asked Cavour what might be done for Italy, and from that moment he drifted toward alliance with Sardinia. But hesitating and cautious as always, he drifted

slowly, until an event which caused Cavour to despair hastened the imperial progress. Orsini, an Italian, attempted the life of the French emperor January 1858, and angry remonstrances were addressed to Turin from Paris. But if the would-be murderer had indeed intended, as he declared, to punish Napoleon for his failure to deliver the enslaved peninsula, he was successful beyond all expectation.

The emperor was thoroughly alarmed. He feared a repetition of the attempt, and his faltering resolution was confirmed. In an interview with Cavour at Plombier, he came to a vague agreement with the Sardinian minister, and though at this time no treaty was concluded, it was understood that France would protect Sardinia from attack, and it is possible that the secret undertakings of Napoleon committed

him more definitely to the Italian cause. In any case, Cavour hastened to prepare for war and to secure the necessary definite alliance with France. In a few months success crowned his efforts. Napoleon undertook to come to the aid of Sardinia against Austria, provided that the latter were the aggressor, and in return for the cession of Savoy and Nice to free Italy from the Alps to the Adriatic. The cabinet of Vienna now realized the imminence of war and proceeded

to arm, at the same time demanding an explanation from Turin. Cavour replied by offering the solution of mutual disarmament. Austria made the mistake of dispatching an ultimatum requiring the immediate suspension of the Sardinian preparations and of following up the ultimatum by declaring war. The necessary condition was now fulfilled. France ranged herself on the side of Sardinia, and Napoleon III marched in person to the deliverance of Italy. By a fatal lack of

military insight, the Austrians failed to act with decision or to attempt the overthrow of Sardinia before the arrival of the French, and as a result, the victory of Napoleon was rapidly secured and was comparatively decisive. The Battle of Magenta, June 1859, gave Milan to the Allies, and that of Solferino freed Lombardy from the Austrians, and though both battles were hard fought, it seemed inevitable that the pledges of the French emperor would be redeemed by the

conquest of Venetia. But at the critical moment, the instability of Napoleon's character was revealed. He had shuddered in the hour of triumph at the sight of the bloodshed to gain it, and he had more tangible reasons for hesitating to complete a work which had approached completion far more rapidly and nearly than he had expected. Not only had his army sustained heavy losses, but French opinion was turning against the war. The clericals viewed with alarm a movement which

appeared to threaten the papacy. The rebellions in central Italy, which promised the creation of a powerful state in the southeastern frontier of France, roused fear in the hearts of statesmen. And Napoleon himself, who had aimed only at a moderate extension of Sardinian territory, was unwilling to become the creator of a really united Italy. He was determined not to face a general European war for the sake of the Italians, and the mobilization of the Prussian army seemed

to suggest the possibility of such a war. Thus on the morrow of Solferino, the emperor of the French betrayed the cause which he had adopted. Characteristically, he allowed his ally to remain in ignorance of his intentions and to expect further military operations. He had interviewed Francis Joseph at Villa Franca and concluded an armistice before Victor Emmanuel was aware that a cessation of hostilities was even contemplated. By the terms of the truce, July 1859, later

converted into a definitive peace, Lombardy, with the exception of Mantua and Pesquera, was ceded to France on the tacit understanding that it should be transferred to Sardinia. The Nisha was left to Austria. The rulers of Tuscany and Modena were to be restored, and the two powers were to favor the Confederation of Italy under the Pope. In other words, Napoleon had broken faith with his ally and had deliberately failed to free Italy from the Alps to the

Adriatic, and throughout the peninsula his name was execrated as that of a traitor. Cavour, disgusted at the apparent falsifying of his hopes, resigned, and it was only the stern resolution of Victor Emmanuel which secured the acceptance of the truce by Sardinia. But the king's temperament was sane. He realized both the difficulties of his ally and the value of a fait accompli. He knew that whatever might be the terms of peace between Austria and France,

nothing would undo the work once done, and he realized that the revolt of the central Italian states involved their absorption in his projected Italian kingdom. And his confidence, shown by his acceptance of the truce of Villa Franca, was justified by results. Though by the Peace of Zurich, November 1859, the expelled rulers were to be restored, and a confederation under the Pope to be established, no means were taken to enforce either decision. Napoleon III dare not go so far

as to coerce the rebellious provinces. He pronounced in favor of a plebiscite, an expedient which had served him so well in France, and this pronouncement was equivalent to a sent to the union of central Italy with Sardinia. Tuscany and Modena voted for annexation by overwhelming majorities, and Cavour was able to return to office, feeling that after all his work had not been in vain. Though Savoyan Nice, the stipulated price for the freeing of Italy, had to be ceded

in return for Lombardy, Victor Emmanuel was nonetheless able to open an almost Italian parliament at Turin. And meanwhile, the rest of Italy was delivered in a more dramatic and more irregular manner. Garibaldi had raised his famous Thousand, a corps of ardent enthusiasts for the Italian cause, obeying no leader but the hero who enlisted them. On the news of a rising in Sicily, he hastened thither, and having mastered the island in a few weeks, crossed to Naples and

easily overthrew the Bourbon monarchy. A provisional government was organized with Garibaldi at its head. Francis II was forced to take refuge in the stronghold of Gaeta under the guns of a French squadron, and the conqueror of the south prepared to complete the deliverance of his country by seizing Rome. He announced that he would proclaim Victor Emmanuel in the Eternal City. But here he came into conflict with the Sardinian government.

The Pope was protected by France, and it appeared to Cavour that an attack on Rome would lead certainly to war with Napoleon III, who was already anxious to conciliate the clericals whom he had alienated. To prevent Garibaldi from compromising the new form of government, the Italian army invaded the Romagna. A victory at Castelfidardo and the surrender of the French mercenaries at Ancona gave Victor Emmanuel control of the states of the Church, and the adventurer,

always loyal to his king, consented to his proclamation in Naples and Sicily. With the exception of Rome and Venetia, all Italy was united under one ruler as it had not been since the days of Theodoric the Ostrogoth. But without Rome, the union of Italy was no real thing, nor were the difficulties of Victor Emmanuel by any means ended. He was faced by the problem of the relationship between the Pope and the New Kingdom. He was troubled by the unwisdom of

enthusiasts, and at the critical juncture, lost the services of Kavur. The statesman's death, June 1861, removed the one minister who might have guided Italy safely along the path of constitutional development. No one could replace him, and the government, deprived of adequate leadership, was unable to cope with its many embarrassments. Of those embarrassments, the earnest republicanism of Mazzini was not the least, for that ardent patriot divided opinion at

the very moment when unity of opinion was essential to political unity. But Garibaldi was an even more serious trial. Believing that vigorous daring was alone needed to secure the real completion of the work begun, he invaded the Romagna with his volunteers and compelled the Italian government to intervene, and by forcing him to surrender at Aspromonte to sacrifice much of its popularity. Yet the real weakness of the new government was neither its lack of completion

nor the insubordination of the enthusiasts. It was due to the fact that united Italy was the outcome of sentiment. A burst of enthusiasm had swept away the governments among which the peninsula had been partitioned, but it had not produced true union. Sardinia, strong enough to take the lead, was too weak to compel obedience. She had been forced to call in French aid, and for this she suffered. The ardent patriots mourned the cession of Savoyan Nice. They would not

understand the stern necessities of practical politics. They regretted bitterly the acceptance of the truce of Villafranca, and in these circumstances the government could not overcome the latent antipathy of the South for an alien dynasty. Being less able to do so because it was obliged to burden the people with heavy taxation for the maintenance of the armaments required in order to keep Italy free from the too pressing attention of her friend, the Emperor of the

French. As a matter of fact, though without French aid the accomplishment of Italian unity would certainly have been postponed, it may be questioned whether such postponement would not have been ultimately beneficial to the Italian cause. It would in any case have saved the new kingdom from beginning its political life as the debtor of Napoleon III. For Napoleon III regarded Italy as his own creation, and was regarded in Europe as the liberator of that peninsula,

so that the end of the Austrian war marks the zenith of his power. To all seeming, he was supreme in France, the effectual champion of the oppressed and the most potent factor in continental politics. His every motion was watched with eager expectancy, the chancelleries of the powers yet thrilled at his lightest word. Triumphant over republicanism at home and over Russia and Austria abroad, the savior of the port and the guardian of the pope, the generous protector of

nascent Italian liberty, he had indeed risen far above the lowly plane of comic adventurer upon on which he had stood some ten years before. But in reality, his downfall was already approaching. Men were beginning to appreciate him at his true worth, and anything in the nature of truth was most detrimental to the emperor of the French. At home, the clerical party, formerly his firmest supporters, were offended by his Italian policy and by a disregard for the interests of the

vicar of Christ impossible in a sincere Catholic, nor had Napoleon found compensation in the affection of liberals. He had recalled the exiles only to discover that they remembered past injuries rather than present benefits, that they paid more regard to the General Security Act by which their friends had been imprisoned without trial than to imperial professions, that they refused to be deceived by the reiteration of their pet catchwords, and that they were by no

means reconciled to the disguised autocracy. And abroad, his position was almost more unsatisfactory. The Crimean War had not afforded that convenient and glorious military parade which it had been intended to provide. The Austrian War had produced a situation from which the emperor was only able partially to escape by sacrificing his reputation for common honesty. He had cooled the ardor of England by his conduct at the Congress of Paris. He had lost his chance of winning the undying

devotion of the Italian people. But he had gained suspicion and distrust. He had exposed his infirmity of purpose and raised doubts as to the substantiality of the golden image which he had so laboriously erected. In fact, it only needed a man, not obsessed by the magic of that name, which the emperor bore, to tear away the garb of fraudulent greatness in which Napoleon III had clothed himself, and to expose in all its puny nakedness the figure of the fictitious man of destiny.

End of Section 19