Till the Captain of the Thousand appeared, the people would not move.  They knew nothing of the merits of a limited monarchy, but they could vibrate to the electric thrill of a great emotion, such as that which made their hearts rise and swell when the organ in the village church pealed forth the airs of Bellini or Donizetti on a feast day.  Garibaldi was the Mahdi of a new dispensation, which was to end earthquakes, the cholera, poverty, to heal all wounds, dry all tears.  Yes, it was worth while to rise now!  King Francis seems to have understood the situation; he sat down to wait for Destiny in a red shirt.  When the liberator was sufficiently near, he is reported to have called the commanders of the National Guard, and to have addressed them in these words:  “As your—­that is, our common friend, Don Peppe, approaches, my work ends and yours begins.  Keep the peace.  I have ordered the troops that remain to capitulate.”

The British Government had all along recommended Cavour to leave Garibaldi alone to finish the task he had so well begun; he did not take the advice, but in the end he must have recognised its wisdom.  At the very last moment it might have been possible to get Victor Emmanuel’s authority proclaimed at Naples before Garibaldi entered the city, or, at any rate, Cavour thought so; but the attempt would have worn a graceless look at that late hour, and it was not made.  Cavour never forgot the services which Garibaldi had rendered to Italy; “the greatest,” he said, “that a man could render her.”  When the dissension between them began, he might have convoked Parliament and fought out the battle before the Chamber, but, though he would have saved his prestige, he would have lost Italy.  He preferred to risk his reputation and to save Italy.  In order to make Italy, he believed it to be of vital importance to keep the hero on good terms with the king.  Garibaldi was a great moral power, not only in Italy, but in Europe.  If Cavour entered into a struggle with him, he would have the majority of old diplomatists on his side, but European public opinion would be against him, and it would be right.  He argued thus with those who mistook his forbearance for weakness, when it was really strength.

Cavour seriously thought that among the inconvenient consequences of Garibaldi’s ascendency might be a war with Austria, forced on the Government by the victorious condottiere in the intoxication of success.  He was resolved as a statesman to do what he could to prevent so great an imprudence.  He had assured the British Government in writing that he had no present intention of attacking Austria, and in this he was perfectly sincere.  Still he did not shrink from the possibility.  He wrote to Ricasoli:  “If we were beaten by overwhelming force, the cause of Italy would not be lost; she would arise from her ruins, as Piedmont arose from the field of Novara.”  To another friend he made what was, perhaps, the only boast he ever uttered:  “I would answer for the result if I possessed the art of war as I possess the art of politics.”  For the rest, he added characteristically, When a course became the only one, what was the good of counting up its dangers?  You ought to find out the way of overcoming them.