were nobles.  If Italy owes the final success to the superior capabilities of Victor Emmanuel and Cavour, and to the agitating power of the General of the Thousand, it is well not to forget the struggles sustained for years by gentlemen whose example did so much to raise partisans among the humble.  These aristocrats, passionate for liberty, have (like our own of the eighteenth century) done more for the people than the people itself.  The veritable history of this Risorgimento would be in great part that of the Italian nobility in which the heroic blood of feudal chiefs revolted against the oppressions and, above all, the perpetual humiliation, born of the presence of the stranger.’

When Prince Metternich looked beyond the borders of those provinces which he said that his Sovereign did not intend to lose, he saw sooner than most people that a ball was set rolling which would not stop half way down the hill.  The one element in the situation which came as a surprise to him, was that introduced by Pius IX.  ’A liberal Pope is an impossible being!’ he exclaimed.  Nevertheless this impossible being was a reality which had to be dealt with.  He hoped all along, however, that Pius would fall a victim to the Frankenstein he had called into existence, and his only real anxiety lay where it had always lain—­on the side of Piedmont.  ‘Charles Albert ought to let us know,’ he wrote to the Austrian Minister at Turin, ’whether his reign has been only a mask under which was hidden the Prince of Carignano, who ascended the throne through the order of succession re-established in his favour by the Emperor Francis.’  Considering all things, the endeavour to make it appear that the King was indebted for his crown to Austria was somewhat venturesome.  Charles Albert, Metternich went on to say, had to choose between two systems, the system now in force, or ’the crassest revolution.’  He wrote again:  ’The King is sliding back upon the path which he enters for the second time in his life, and which he will never really quit.’  Words of a bitter enemy, but juster than the ‘Esecrato o Carignano,’ hurled for a quarter of a century at Charles Albert by those who only saw in him a traitor.

The constant invocation of the revolutionary spectre by the Austrian statesman convinced the King that the wish was father to the thought, and, afraid of introducing the thin end of the wedge, he showed himself more than ever averse to reforming the antiquated machinery of the Sardinian Government.  Instead of being the first of Italian princes to yield to popular demands, he was almost the last.  He believed that the question of nationality, of independence, could be separated from the question of free institutions.  Of all the chimerical ideas then afloat, this was the most chimerical.  Even the example of the Pope, for whom Charles Albert felt a romantic devotion, was not enough to induce him to open the road to reforms.  The person who seems first to have impressed him with