years.  With regard to the sense, the sequel proved that Lord Clarendon did not attach the official value to what he said which, for a moment, Cavour hoped to find in it.  Lord Clarendon’s speech before the Congress gives evidence of a state of mind wrought to the utmost excitement by the tale of Italy’s sufferings, and it is not surprising if, speaking as a private individual, he used still stronger expressions of sympathy.  Nor is it surprising that Cavour attributed more weight to these expressions than they merited.  Up till now, he had never counted on more than moral support from England; he admitted to himself that the English alliance, which he would have infinitely preferred to any other, was a dream.  But the thought now flashed on him that it might become a reality.  He decided to pay a short visit to England, which was useful, because it dispelled illusions, always dangerous in politics.  In the damp air of the Thames, Lord Clarendon seemed no longer the same enthusiast, and Lord Palmerston pleaded the excuse of a domestic affliction for seeing very little of Cavour.  The Queen was kind as ever, but the momentary hope conceived in Paris vanished.  One after-consequence of this visit was Lord Lyndhurst’s motion, which nearly caused an estrangement between the British and Sardinian Governments.  Cavour had taken too literally the assurance that on the subject of Italy there was no division of parties.  The warmly Italian speech of the veteran conservative statesman which had been inspired by him was not meant to embarrass the ministry, but that was its effect, and it was natural that they should feel some resentment.  Fortunately the cloud soon passed away, and if Cavour imagined to gain anything from flirtations with the Tory party he was undeceived by the violently pro-Austrian speech delivered by Mr. Disraeli in July.  The sincere goodwill of individuals such as Lord Lyndhurst and Lord Stanhope (who invented the phrase “Italy for the Italians,” so often repeated later) did not represent the then prevailing sentiment of the party as a whole.

Cavour returned to Turin without bringing, as Massimo d’Azeglio expressed it, “even the smallest duchy in his pocket”; yet satisfied with his work, for he rightly judged that, though there was no material gain, the moral victory was complete.  The recalcitration of Austria, which had reached the point of threatening war if Parma were joined to Piedmont, contained the germs of her dissolution as an Italian power.  The temporal power of the Pope had been called in question for the first time, not in the lodge of a secret society, but in the council chamber of Europe.  Beaten on the lower plane, Cavour had won on the higher; checked as a Piedmontese, he was triumphant as an Italian.  In spite of the approval voted by both Houses of Parliament, some shade of disappointment existed in Piedmont, but throughout Italy there was exultation.  The Tuscan patriots sent the statesman a bust of himself, with the happily chosen inscription:  “Colui che la difese a viso aperto."[1]