Count Camillo Benso di Cavour (1810–1861), the architect of Italian unification, was no friend of revolution. While committed to liberal economic policies, secularization of public life, and civil liberties, Cavour was also determined that Italy should be a constitutional monarchy. For Cavour, monarchy was the “strength and glory” of Italy, and his paramount goal as he pushed for Italian unification was that his king, Victor Emmanuel II of Piedmont, should lead the new nation. Given this, it is not surprising that more radical Italian nationalists tended to see Cavour as a traitor to their cause. In this diary entry, a Sardinian official, Giorgio Asproni, reacted to what would prove to be a false rumor that Cavour had died. As you read it, think about the sources of Asproni’s antipathy to Cavour. How did Cavour’s Italy differ from the one Asproni had hoped to see created?
It is cowardice to rejoice at the fate that awaits all mortals, and for my part I am indifferent to the loss of this statesman. His death, however, is providential for Italy. It will be extremely difficult, I should say impossible, for the moderate party to find anyone with the same combination of qualities to succeed him. He was from an aristocratic family, very rich, versatile, full of imagination, cunning and practised in the affairs of this world, quite unscrupulous, with no moral restraint, relaxed and courteous in his manner, but greedy and insatiable when it came to money or power. Wide-ranging in ideas, incomparable in intrigue, quick to grasp the point, blindly stubborn in his anger, he was determined to take any step, however dangerous, to defeat his opponents and maintain himself in office. He was lavish with banquets, jobs, decorations, handshakes, kind words, and secret service funds; he corrupted the electorate and the press, deceived public opinion and for ten years was complete master of the country. He has died now that his star looked like waning, and quite certainly he would have fallen in less than a year, but God knows what new evils he would have brought about in that period of omnipotence. He was small in stature, with a round face rather like Napoleon’s, and reddish-white in complexion; fair hair, almost red, turning half-white in recent years; very large head, wide forehead, lively blue eyes, firm regular nose; his hair was becoming thinner and he was becoming half-bald. When he was still hoping to win me over politically, he was friendly and promised all kinds of good things for Sardinia. Once he found that I was firm in my principles, that I could be neither bought nor threatened and that my needs were few, he opposed me obstinately. He treated Sardinia as badly as he possible could, and made a secret commitment to Louis Napoleon to cede it to France. Now he is no more; but the consequences of his stubborn war against revolution, which alone can bring independence, greatness and liberty to Italy, live on. The priests will say that he was struck down by the hand of God; perhaps they poisoned him. I say that he was a fortunate man both in life and in death, for a sudden end to life is a truly enviable stroke of good luck.
Source: Martin Clark, The Italian Risorgimento, 2d ed. (London: Pearson, 2009), pp. 122–123. © Pearson Education Limited 2009. Reproduced by permission of Taylor & Francis Books UK.