republic was, he said, 'a sincere conviction of the necessity of a
barrier between France and Italy, which ought to be made effectual on
the side of Piedmont. The object was to commit the defence of the Alps
and of the great road leading round them by the Gulf of Genoa, between
France and Italy, to the same power to which it had formerly been
entrusted. On that principle, the question relating to Genoa had been
entertained and decided upon by the allied sovereigns. It was not
resolved upon because any particular state had unworthy or sordid
views, or from any interest or feeling in favour of the King of
Sardinia, but solely to make him, as far as was necessary, the
instrument of the general policy of Europe.'

A better defence might have been made. Piedmont was destined to serve
as a bulwark, not so much against France, which for the time was not
to be feared, as against Austria, absolute except for the subalpine
kingdom in all Italy. But this belongs to the shaping of rough-hewn
ends, which is in higher hands than those of English ministers. The
ends then looked very rough-hewn.

Piedmont was a hotbed of reaction and bigotry. True, she had a history
differing vastly from that of the other Italian states, but the facts
of the hour presented her in a most unattractive light. The Genoese
felt the keenest heart-burnings in submitting to a decision in which
they had no voice, and which came to them as a mandate of political
extinction from the same powers that confirmed the sentence of death
on Genoa's ancient and glorious rival. The seeds were laid of
disaffection, always smouldering among the Genoese, till Piedmont's
king became King of Italy. It might almost be said that the
reconciliation was not consummated till the day when the heir and
namesake of Humbert of the White Hands received the squadrons of