whatever else he was, was not independent) by laughing
at the entreaties of France to relieve that advanced
nation from the annoyance of having set up a government
fit for the Middle Ages. He rated at its correct
value the support of Napoleon, and believing it to
be purely interested, he believed in its permanence.
The President had thought of nothing in the world
but votes, and he thought of them still. The
Roman Expedition secured him the services of M. de
Falloux as minister, and won over to him the entire
Clerical Party, including Montalembert and the so-called
Liberal Catholics. Thus, and thus only, was the
leap from the Presidential chair to the Imperial throne
made possible. The result was flattering, but
still there are reasons to think (apart from Prince
Jerome Napoleon’s express statement to that
effect) that Napoleon III. hated the whole business
from the bottom of his soul, and that of his not few
questionable acts, this was the only one of which
he felt lastingly ashamed. Seeing that the communications
of his ministers failed in their object, he tried the
expedient of writing a private letter to his friend
Edgar Ney, couched in the strongest terms of disapproval
of the recalcitrant attitude of the Papal Government.
This letter was published as it was intended to be,
but in the Roman States, except that its circulation
was forbidden, no notice was taken of it. Though
the incident may be regarded as a stroke of facing-both-ways
policy, the anger expressed was probably as sincere
as any of Napoleon’s sentiments could be, and
the letter had the effect of awakening the idea in
many minds that something of the former Italian conspirator
still existed in the ruler of France. The question
arose, What sort of pressure would be needed to turn
that germ to account for Italy?
In the kingdom of Naples, where the laws, to look
at them on paper, were incomparably better than those
in force in the Roman States, the administration was
such as would have disgraced a remote province of
the Turkish Empire. The King’s naturally
suspicious temperament was worked upon by his courtiers
and priests till he came to detect in every Liberal
a personal antagonist, whose immunity from harm was
incompatible with his own, and in Liberalism a plague
dangerous to society, which must be stamped out at
all costs. Over 800 Liberals were sent to the
galleys. The convictions were obtained, in a great
proportion of cases, by false testimony. Bribes
and secret protection in high quarters were the only
means by which an innocent man could hope to escape;
50,000 persons were under police supervision, to be
imprisoned at will. The police often refused to
set at liberty those whom the judges had acquitted.
The government had a Turkish or Russian fear of printed
matter. A wretched barber was fined 1000 ducats
for having in his possession a volume of Leopardi’s
poems, which was described as ‘contrary to religion
and morals.’