believed, however, that everything depended on gratifying the Emperor’s wish, and he strongly urged the king to yield a point which seemed to him of no great importance.  Since most princesses made unhappy marriages, what did it matter if Prince Napoleon was a promising bridegroom or not?  Victor Emmanuel was persuaded by the “reason of State”; but the sacrifice of his daughter cost him more than Cavour could ever conceive.

Napoleon told his visitor that he felt sure of the benevolent attitude of Russia, and of the neutrality of England and Prussia, but he had no illusions as to the difficulty of the task.  The Austrians would be hard to crush, and unless thoroughly crushed they would not relax their hold on Italy.  Peace must be imposed at Vienna.  To this end at least 200,000 Frenchmen and 100,000 Italians would be necessary.  Cavour has been criticised for acquiescing in the crippled programme of a kingdom of Upper Italy.  What was he to do?  Victor Amadeus II, in his instructions to the Marquis del Borgo, his minister at the Congress of Utrecht, laid down the rule:  “Aller au solide et au present et parler ensuite des chimeres agreables.”  This was the only rule which Victor Emmanuel’s minister could observe with any profit to his country at Plombieres.  As he wrote himself, “In politics one can only do one thing at a time, and the only thing we have to think of is how to get the Austrians out of Italy.”

The period from the meeting with the Emperor of the French to the outbreak of the war was, in the opinion of the present writer, the greatest period in Cavour’s life.  Patience, temper, forethought, resource, resolution—­every quality of a great statesman he exhibited in turn, and above all the supreme gift of making no mistakes.  He did not trust in chance or in fate; he trusted entirely in himself.  He showed extraordinary ability in compelling the most various and opposing elements to combine in the service of his ends.  In spite of Napoleon’s promises and of the current of personal sentiment which lay beneath them, he soon foresaw that the unwillingness of France and the constitutional vacillation of the Emperor would render them barren of results, unless Austria attacked—­an eventuality which was considered impossible on all sides.  Mazzini, who was generally not only clear-sighted, but also furnished with secret information, the origin of which is even now a mystery, asserted positively that “even if provoked Austria would not attack.”  The same belief prevailed in the inner circle of diplomacy.  When Mr. Odo Russell called on Cavour in December 1858, he remarked that Austria had only to play a waiting game to wear out the financial resources of Piedmont, while, on the other hand, Piedmont would forfeit the sympathies of Europe if it precipitated matters by a declaration of war.  The only solution would be if the declaration of war came from Austria; but she would never commit so enormous a blunder.  “But I shall force her to declare war against us,” Cavour tranquilly replied, and when the incredulous Englishman inquired at what time he expected to bring about this consummation, he answered, “About the first week in May.”  Mr. Odo Russell wrote down the date in his notebook, and boundless was his surprise when Austria actually declared war a few days in advance of the time prescribed.  This is statesmancraft!