SAVOY AND NICE
The dissolution of Parliament by Lord Derby in June led to the return
of a Liberal majority and the resumption of power by men who were open
advocates of Italian unity. Kossuth believed to his last day that this
result was due to him, an opinion which English readers are not likely
to share. The gain for Italy was inestimable. The Whigs had supported
Lord Malmesbury in his unprofitable efforts as a peacemaker; but when
the war broke out they had no further reason to restrain their natural
sympathies. Lord Palmerston especially wished the new kingdom to
be strong enough to be independent of French influences. Had the
Conservatives remained in office there is no doubt that they would
have supported the plan to constitute Venetia a separate state under
the Archduke Maximilian, which was regarded with much favour by that
Prince's father-in-law, King Leopold, and hence by the Prince Consort.
The Liberal Ministry would have nothing to do with it. Napoleon hoped,
in the first instance, to shift the onus of stopping the war from
himself to the English Government. He wished the programme of
Villafranca to emanate from England; but, as Lord Palmerston wrote to
Lord John Russell, why should they incur the opprobrium of leaving
Italy laden with Austrian chains and of having betrayed the Italians
at the moment of their brightest hopes? In the same letter (July 6),
he pointed out that if a single Austrian ruler remained in Italy,
whatever was the form of his administration, the excuse and even the
fatal necessity of Austrian interference would remain or return. They
were asked to parcel out the peoples of Italy as if they belonged
to them! The Earl of Malmesbury once remarked that "on any question
affecting Italy Lord Palmerston had no scruples." Had the Conservative
statesman continued in office six months longer, in spite of his
wish to see Italy happy, the "scruples" of which he spoke would have
probably induced him to try and force her back under the Austrian
yoke. Whether Cavour's life-work was to succeed or fail depended
henceforth largely on England. "Now it is England's turn," he said
frequently to his relations in Switzerland, where he went to recover
his health and spirits. Soon all traces of depression disappeared.
While Europe thought that it had assisted at his political funeral, he
was engaged not in thinking how things might be remedied, but how he
was going to remedy them. It was not the king, Piedmont, Italy, that
would prevent the treaty from being carried out; it was "I." The road
was cut; he would take another. He would occupy himself with Naples.
People might call him a revolutionist or what they pleased, but they
must go on, and they would go on.
There exists proof that after Villafranca, Cavour expected Napoleon to
demand Savoy and Nice, or at least Savoy, notwithstanding that Venetia
was not freed. The Emperor considered it necessary, however, to go
through the form of renouncing the two provinces. He is reported
to have said to Victor Emmanuel before leaving for Paris, "Your
government will pay me the cost of the war, and we shall think no more
about Nice and Savoy. Now we shall see what the Italians can do by
themselves." Walewski confirmed this by stating that the simple
annexation of Lombardy was not a sufficient motive "for demanding a
sacrifice on the part of our ally in the interest of the safety of our
frontiers," and in August he formally repeated to Rattazzi that they
did not dream of annexing Savoy. Sincere or not, these disclaimers
released Victor Emmanuel from the secret bond into which Cavour had
persuaded him to enter. The contract was recognised as null. Rattazzi
was notoriously opposed to any cession of territory, and had he known
how to play his game it is at least open to argument that the House of
Savoy might have been spared losing its birthright as the Houses
of Orange and Lorraine had lost theirs. But his weak policy landed
Italian affairs in a chaos which made Napoleon once more master of the
situation.
The populations of Central Italy desired Victor Emmanuel for their
king--Was he to accept or refuse? Rattazzi tried to steer between
acceptance and refusal. A great many people thought then that
acceptance outright would have brought the armed intervention of
France or of Austria, or of both combined. The sagacious historian
ought not lightly to set aside the current conviction of
contemporaries. Those who come after are much better informed as
to data, but they fail to catch the atmospheric tendency, the
beginning-to-drift, of which witnesses are sensible. The scare was
universal. The British Government sent a formal note to France and
Austria stating that the employment of Austrian or French forces to
repress the clearly expressed will of the people of Central Italy
"would not be justifiable towards the government of the Queen." Lord
Palmerston made the remark that the French formula of "Italy given to
herself" had been transformed into "Italy sold to Austria." He grew
every day more distrustful of Napoleon, and more regretful that the
only man whom he believed able to cope with him was out of office.
"They talk a great deal in Paris of Cavour's intrigues," he wrote to
Lord Cowley. "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. The annexation of the Duchies to Piedmont
will be an unfathomable good for Italy at the same time as for France
and for Europe. I hope Walewski will not urge the Emperor to make the
slavery of Italy the _dénoûment_ of a drama which had for its first
scene the declaration that Italy should be free from Alps to Adriatic.
If the Italians are left to themselves all will go well; and when
they say that if the French garrison were recalled from Rome all the
priests would be assassinated, one can cite the case of Bologna,
where the priests have not been molested and where perfect order is
maintained." However much Austria might dislike the turn which events
had taken in the Centre, it was generally admitted that she would not
or could not intervene, even single-handed, without the tacit consent
of France, which had still five divisions in Lombardy. The issue,
therefore, hung on France. There is no doubt that Napoleon told all
the Italians, or presumably Italian sympathisers who came near him,
that he "would not allow" the union of Tuscany with Piedmont. He said
to Lord Cowley, "The annexation of Tuscany is a real impossibility."
He told the Marquis Pepoli that if the annexations crossed the
Apennines, unity would be achieved; and he did not want unity: he
wanted only independence. Walewski echoed these sentiments, and in his
case it is certain that he meant what he said. But did Napoleon mean
what he said? Evidence has come to light that all this time he was
speaking in an entirely different key whenever his visitor was a
reactionist or a clerical. To these he invariably said that he was
obliged to let events take their course, though contrary to his
interests; because, having given the blood of his soldiers for Italian
independence, he could not fire a shot against it. To M. de Falloux he
said that he had always been bound to the cause of Italy, and it was
impossible for him to turn his guns against her. What becomes, then,
of his threats? Might not an Italian minister, relying on the support
of England, have ignored them and passed on his way?
Though Rattazzi's timidity prevented Victor Emmanuel from accepting
the preferred crowns, the king declared on his own account that if
these people who trusted in him were attached, he would break his
sword and go into exile rather than leave them to their fate. He
wrote to Napoleon that misfortune might turn to fortune, but that the
apostasies of princes were irreparable. The Peace of Zurich, signed on
November 10, did nothing to relax the strain. It merely referred the
settlement of Italy to the usual Napoleonic panacea--a Congress not
intended to meet. A Congress would have done nothing for Italy, but
neither would it have given Napoleon Savoy and Nice. But the proposal
had one important result: it brought Cavour back on the scene. A duel
was going on between him and Rattazzi. He was accused, perhaps truly,
of moving heaven and earth to upset the ministry, while Rattazzi's
friends were spreading abroad every form of abuse and calumny to keep
him out of office. When the Congress was announced, the popular demand
for the appointment of Cavour as Sardinian plenipotentiary was too
strong to be resisted. Rattazzi yielded, and the king, though still
remembering with bitter feelings the scene at Villafranca, sacrificed
his pride to his patriotism. Cavour did not like the idea of serving
under Rattazzi, but he agreed to accept the post in order to prevent
an antagonism which would have proved fatal to Italy. Napoleon
astutely uttered no word of protest.
The Congress hung fire, and Cavour remained at Leri occupied with his
cows and his fields, but secretly chafing at the sight of Italy in a
perilous crisis abandoned to men whom he believed incapable. From the
moment that he had been called back to the public service, his own
return to the premiership could only be a question of time, and he
wished that time to be short. The fall of the ministry was inevitable,
for it was unpopular on all sides, but no one had foreseen how it
would fall. La Marmora, who was the nominal president of the Council
(Rattazzi having taken his old post of Home Minister), somehow
discovered that a draft of Cavour's letter of acceptance of the
appointment of plenipotentiary existed in Sir James Hudson's
handwriting. Though it was true that the British Government was most
anxious that Cavour should figure in the Congress, if there was one,
the fact that Sir James Hudson had written down a copy of the letter
as it was composed was only an accident which happened through the
intimate relations between them. La Marmora saw it in a different
light, and angrily declaring that he would not put up with foreign
pressure, he sent in his resignation, which was accepted. Thus
in January 1860 Cavour became once more the helmsman of Italian
destinies. The new ministry consisted principally of himself, as he
held the home and foreign offices, as well as the presidency of the
Council.
He was resolved to put an end to the block at all costs, except the
reconsignment of populations already free to Austria or Austrians.
"Let the people of Central Italy declare themselves what they want,
and we will stand by their decisions come what may." This was the rule
which he proposed to follow, and which he would have followed even
if war had been the consequence. Personally he would have accepted a
provisional union of the Central States, such as Farini advocated;
but Ricasoli discerned in any temporary division a danger to Italian
unity, and induced or rather forced Cavour to renounce the idea. He
called Ricasoli an "obstinate mule," but he had the rare gift of
seeing that the strong man who opposed him in details was to be
preferred to a weak man who was only a puppet.
The substitution of Walewski by Thouvenel at the French Foreign
Office, and the Emperor's letter to the Pope advising him to give up
the revolted Legations of his own accord, raised many hopes, but those
who took these to be the signs of a decided change of policy were
mistaken. Napoleon would not yield about Tuscany, and it grew plainer
every day that the reason why he held out was in order to sell his
consent. M. Thouvenel has distinctly stated that at this period the
English ministry were informed of the Emperor's intention to claim
Savoy and Nice if Piedmont annexed any more territory. Even before he
resumed office, Cavour was convinced that the only way to a settlement
was to strike a direct bargain with Napoleon. He viewed the
contemplated sacrifice not with less but with more repulsion than he
had viewed it at Plombières. The constant harassing of the last six
months, which provoked him to say that never would he be again an
accessory to bringing a French army into Italy, left an ineffaceable
impression on his mind. The cession of the two provinces seemed to him
now much less like obliging a friend than satisfying a highwayman. But
he was convinced that it was an act of necessity.
As the "might-have-beens" of history can never be determined, it will
never be possible to decide with certainty whether Cavour's conviction
was right or wrong. Half a year of temporising had prejudiced the
position of affairs; it was more difficult to defy Napoleon now
than when he broke off the war without fulfilling his promises. A
clear-sighted diplomatist, Count Vitzthum, has given it as his opinion
that if Cavour had divulged the Secret Treaty of January 1859, by
which Savoy and Nice were promised in return for the French alliance,
Napoleon would have been so deeply embarrassed that he would have
relinquished his claims at once. But such a course would have mortally
offended France as well as the Emperor. Cavour did not share the
illusion of the Italian democracy that the "great heart" of the French
nation was with them. He once said that, if France became a republic,
Italy would gain nothing by it--quite the contrary. With so many
questions still open, and, above all, the difficult problem of Rome,
he feared to turn the smothered animosity of the French people into
violent and declared antagonism.
The king offered no fresh opposition; he said sadly that, as the child
was gone, the cradle might go too. When the exchange of Savoy for a
French alliance was proposed to Charles Albert he wrathfully rejected
the idea; and if Victor Emmanuel yielded, it was not that he loved
Savoy less but Italy more. It has to be noticed, however, that, though
always loyal to their king, the Savoyards had for ten years shown an
implacable hostility to Italian aspirations. The case against the
cession of Nice was far stronger. General Fanti, the minister of war,
threatened to resign, so essential did he hold Nice to the defence of
the future kingdom of Italy. The British Government also insisted on
its military importance. Nice was a thoroughly Italian town in race
and feeling, as no one knew better than Cavour, though he was forced
to deny it. According to an account published in the _Life of the
Prince Consort_, and seemingly derived from Sir James Hudson, it would
appear that he was still hoping to save Nice, when Count Benedetti
arrived from Paris with the announcement that, if the Secret Treaty
were not signed in its entirety, the Emperor would withdraw his troops
from Lonabardy. Cavour is said to have answered, "The sooner they
go the better"--on which Benedetti took from his pocket a letter
containing the Emperor's private instructions, and proceeded to say,
"Well, I have orders to withdraw the troops, but not to France; they
will occupy Bologna and Florence."[1]
[Footnote 1: In 1896 Count Benedetti contributed two articles to the
_Revue des deux mondes_ on "Cavour and Bismarck." His only mention of
the affair of Savoy and Nice is the casuistical remark that "Cavour
kept the _engagement concluded at Plombières_" (sic).]
On March 24, depressed and bowed, Cavour walked up and down the room
where the French negotiators sat. At last, taking up the pen, he
signed the Secret Treaty. Then suddenly he seemed to recover his
spirits, as, turning to M. de Talleyrand, he said, "Maintenant nous
sommes complices, n'est ce pas vrai?"
The secrecy was none of his seeking; he had tried hard to induce
Napoleon to let the treaty be submitted to Parliament before it was
signed, as constitutional usage demanded, but the Emperor was resolved
that the Chambers and Europe should know of it only when it was an
accomplished fact. He had good reason for the precaution. He knew that
there would be an outburst of indignation in England, though he little
imagined the after consequences of this to himself. His one idea just
then was to make sure of his bargain, not because he cared to enlarge
his frontiers, for he was not constitutionally ambitious, but because
he hoped, by doing so, to win the gratitude of France. It is useful as
a lesson to note that he won nothing of the kind. Nor did Cavour win
the goodwill of the French masses as he had hoped. France might have
been angry had she not received the two provinces, but she showed real
or affected ignorance of their value. For many years the French papers
described the county of Nice as a poor, miserable strip of shore, and
the duchy of Savoy as a few bare rocks. French people then travelled
so little that they may have thought it was true.
As Napoleon was bent on deceiving, Cavour was obliged to deceive too.
Sir Robert Peel's denial of the intention of Government to repeal the
Corn Laws has been defended on the ground that the _Cabinet_ had not
taken a definite resolution; if such a defence is of profit, Cavour is
entitled to the benefit of it. At any rate he had no choice. Whether
or not they had been previously warned, the English Ministry, and
especially the Foreign Secretary, now believed the professions of
innocence. The Earl of Malmesbury records a suspicion that as far back
as January 1859 Napoleon secured some sort of written promise from
Lord Palmerston that he would not make difficulties about Nice and
Savoy. Such an assurance amounts, of course, to saying, "Go and take
it," as in the more recent case of Tunis. The story is not impossible;
like Cavour, Lord Palmerston desired so much to see Italy freed that
he would have given up a good deal to arrive at the goal. The country
resented the deception, as it had every right to do, and the Queen
expressed the general feeling when she wrote to Lord John Russell, "We
have been made regular dupes." For a moment there seemed a risk of
war, but Lord Palmerston never had the slightest intention of going to
war, whatever were the inclinations of his colleague at the Foreign
Office. Lord John Russell took his revenge on Napoleon when the
Emperor wished to proceed to joint action with England on the Danish
question; by refusing this proposal he deprived him of the one and
only chance of stemming Prussian ambition.
Cavour did not extenuate the gravity of the responsibility which he
accepted when he advised the king to sign away national territory
without the sanction of Parliament. He said that it was a highly
unconstitutional act, which exposed him, were the Chamber of Deputies
to disown it, to an indictment for high treason. He counted on losing
all his popularity in Piedmont--how could he not expect to lose it
when his best hopes for getting the treaty approved rested on the
assumption that the new voters from the enfranchised parts of Italy
would drown the opposition of his own State to its dismemberment? It
has often been asked, Why did he not allow the cession to wear the
honest colour of surrender to force? Why, "against his conviction," as
he confessed in private, did he declare that Nice was not Italian? Why
go through the farce of plebiscites so "arranged" that the result was
a foregone conclusion? The answer, satisfactory or not, is easily
found: Nice was stated to be not Italian to leave intact the theory
of nationality for future use; the plebiscites were resorted to that
Napoleon might be obliged to recognise the same method of settling
questions elsewhere.
The parliament which represented Piedmont, Lombardy, Parma, Modena,
and Romagna, met on April 2, 1860. The frontier lines of six states
were effaced. The man who had so largely contributed to this great
result stood there to defend his honour, almost his life. Guerrazzi
compared him to the Earl of Clarendon--"hard towards the king,
truculent to Parliament, who thought in his pride that he could do
everything." Cavour retorted: perhaps if Clarendon had been able to
show in defence of his conduct many million Englishmen delivered from
foreign yoke, several counties added to his master's possessions,
Parliament would not have been so pitiless, or Charles II. so
ungrateful to the most faithful of his servants. The deputy Guerrazzi,
he continued, had read him a lesson in history; it should have been
given entire. And he then drew a picture, splendid in its scathing
irony, of the unscrupulous alliance of men without principle, of
all shades of opinion, only united in self-interest, demagogues,
courtiers, reactionists, papists, puritans, without traditions,
without ideas, at one in impudent egotism, and in nothing else, who
formed the cabal which ruined Clarendon. Every one understood that he
was painting his own enemies inside the Chamber and out.
In spite of protests and regrets, the treaty was sanctioned by a
larger majority than had been reckoned on. When it came to the point,
not a large number of voters was ready to take the tremendous leap in
the dark which, among other consequences, must have condemned Cavour,
if not to the fate of Stafford, at least to obscurity for the rest of
his life. But the ministry came out of the contest, to use Cavour's
own words, extraordinarily weakened. "On me and on my colleagues," he
had said, "he all the obloquy of the act!" He was to regain his power,
and even his popularity, but time itself cannot wholly obliterate
the spot upon his name. He knew it well himself. A writer in the
_Quarterly Review_, soon after his death, related that latterly people
avoided alluding to Savoy and Nice before him; the subject caused him
such evident pain. The same writer makes a very interesting statement
which, although there is no other authority for it, must be assumed to
rest on accurate information: he says that Cavour hoped, to the last,
some day to get the two provinces back.[1]
[Footnote 1: Mr. John Murray has courteously informed me that the
writer of the article was the late Sir A.H. Layard.]