CAVOUR1

By P. W. WILSON

THE EARLY LIFE AND LETTERS OF CAVOUR, 1810-1848. By A. J. Whyte. Oxford University Press,

I

New York.

N THE minds of most of us there is a pigeonhole for Camillo Cavour. We schedule him as the

Bismarck of Italy, the admirable Macchiavelli who lured the third Napoleon to the victories of Magenta and Solferino, and wove the red shirts of Garibaldi into the texture of Italian unity. At his appointed cue he walked to the center of the stage, the inevitable actor, perfect already in his part. He devoted ten thrilling years to restoring a long-shattered nation. And then, his work done, he died. On the flame of a genius that was consumed by its own intensity, the curtain fell.

In skimming thus the mere surface of biography we are apt too often to skip the juvenilia. It is the career itself, external and objective, which supplies the historian with his melodrama; the character, evolved from youth, is mere psychology. Yet in the miracle that was Cavour there must have been a method. It was during the '30s and '40s that somehow there developed the diplomat of the '50s. To unveil this hidden period has been the aim of a

1 From The New York Times Book Review, July 12, 1925.

historical commission in Italy. Many hundreds of letters and other documents have been collected and arranged, and these are the documents which Mr. Whyte introduces to the English-speaking world. His narrative deals only with the prelude to the play. But it is so fascinating that it reduces the play itself to a mere sequel. The Cavour of obscurity overshadows the Cavour of fame. The man proves to be no more than the son of the boy.

In what sense, then, was Cavour the Bismarck of Italy? Both men were born of ancient families, feudal or Junker, with estates and a dependent tenantry. And both men were educated by the army, emerging therefrom at an early age. Both men studied agriculture and both men set themselves the task of achieving the national unity of their respective and divided countries. Indeed, both men believed in war. When Cavour was forming his opinions men talked, as they talk today, of "universal peace." He admitted that it would be "an immense blessing." But, said he, if you would be "delivered from this scourge of war," you must "civilize, educate." Ignorant nations would never coöperate. And as for arbitration, he asked the searching question: "Do you count much on the morality of Metternich if he had to decide whether the claims of Don Pedro or his brother were legitimate?"

Thus far, there was then a certain similarity between the two nation-builders. But, in all else, the contrast was complete. Behind Bismarck lay Prussia; Cavour could only rely on Piedmont, a province

no more powerful than a single New England State, minus railways and commerce. What the German achieved with the big stick, the Italian had to win by his sole rapier. Nor did the difference end there. Bismarck was a Tory who upheld the divine right of Kings. It is to the everlasting renown of Cavour that he believed in liberty. An Italy united must be also an Italy of free citizens. "There is no great man," he declared, "who is not a Liberal." In his democratic faith, Cavour was thus poles asunder from the Prussian autocrat.

It meant that against Cavour, as patriot, were ranged not only Austria and Metternich, but Cavour's own family, his King, the Pope, and every other constituted authority within Italy herself. By the Royal family of Savoy, for whose court he was paving the path from Turin to Rome, he was regarded as little better than a traitor to the throne. The army records contain, among other items, the order that "the Signor Cavour will immediately be placed under close arrest for having books in his possession without leave from his superiors." For "grave disobedience in refusing to obey the general orders of the school" he was "confined with bread and water for three days, with the addition of a nota rossa (or bad mark) from the professor." The army was no place for him.

At court he was for a time a page, on which experience he remarked: "How do you think that we were dressed except as the lackeys that we were? I blush with shame at it." As a younger son, he was

dependent on his father for an income and in any event did not come of age until his twenty-fifth year. "The poor child," wrote his aunt, "is entirely absorbed in revolutions. . . . He is wildly enthusiastic about political economy, this erroneous science which warps the mind and is of no use." Why could he not "become a great mathematician like La Grange"?-so asked a friend, Major Carlo Cappai. "This is no time for mathematics," replied Cavour. "It is necessary to study political economy; the world progresses. I hope to see the day when our country is governed by a constitution, and who knows but I may be a Minister in it!" Not bad for a boy of thirteen years! And the "erroneous science" of political economy, which included a firm belief in free trade, began to be respected, even by aunts, when its application to live stock rehabilitated the family estates.

Piedmont, then, was the cage where was hatched this soaring eagle. The political reaction of that small province was incredible in its folly. In May, 1814, the Napoleonic nightmare, as it was regarded, came to an end. The King returned in triumph to Turin, his capital, which city became once more "half barracks and half monastery." On the morrow of his restoration, this earlier Victor Emmanuel issued an astonishing proclamation:

We recognize the validity of no law whatsoever between this our present edict and those of the Royal constitutions of 1770.

By one sweep of the scepter the clock was put back forty-four years. The civil service, being French, was disbanded. Education was suspended. Abuses were again legalized. And, "calling for the court almanac of 1798," writes Dr. Whyte, "the King proceeded to reinstate every official still living in the position which he had then occupied." Men, sixteen years older, resumed jobs that for sixteen years had been in abeyance.

The atmosphere so created was, in Cavour's word, "suffocating." The one daily journal, called the Gazetta Piemontese, was issued by the Foreign Office, and "the news which appeared of most interest to the editors of this production concerned China and Japan, European affairs and news from the United States being too dangerous for publication." Otherwise:

The only newspaper of any importance was Brofferio's weekly sheet, the Messaggiere Torinese. In this, by dint of clever editing and a kind of parabolic use of ancient history and the suggestive adaptation of non-political modern controversies, such as that between the Classicists and the Romanticists, he contrived in spite of the censorship to give the paper a liberal flavor, though it was more by implication. than expression that its true opinions were to be discovered. Journalistic efforts of a more pronounced kind, like Mazzini's Indicatore Genovese, had a short life, and the severity of the Government effectually restrained the literaryminded from indulging too readily in the risky business of Piedmontese journalism.

When Cavour started his famous journal, Il