The little Kingdom of Sardinia, as the nucleus of the new Italy was called, had also joined the allies in this war; and thus a slender tie had been created between her and France at a time when Austria was savagely attacking her possessions in the north of Italy.

When Napoleon was privately sounded by Count Cavour, he named as his price for intervention in Italy two things:  the cession to France of the Duchy of Savoy, and the marriage of his cousin, Jerome Bonaparte, with Clotilde, the young daughter of Victor Emmanuel.  Savoy was the ancestral home of the king, and the only thing he loved more than Savoy was his daughter Clotilde, just fifteen years old.  The terms were hard, but they were accepted.

When Louis Napoleon entered Italy with his army in 1859, it was as a liberator—­dramatically declaring that he came to “give Italy to herself”; that she was to be “free, from the Alps to the Adriatic”!  The victory at Magenta was the first step toward the realization of this glorious promise; quickly followed by another at Solferino.  Milan was restored, Lombardy was free, and as the news sped toward the south the Austrian dukes of Tuscany, Modena, and Parma fled in dismay, and these rejoicing states offered their allegiance, not to the King of Sardinia, now, but to the King of Italy.  There were only two more states to be freed, only Venetia and the papal state of Rome, and a “United Italy” would indeed be “free from the Alps to the Adriatic.”

Then the unexpected happened.  The dramatic pledge was not to be kept.  Venetia was not to be liberated.  The Peace of Villafranca was signed.  Austria relinquished Lombardy, but was permitted to retain Venice.  Cavour, white with rage, said, “Cut loose from the traitor!  Refuse Lombardy!” But Victor Emmanuel saw more clearly the path of wisdom; and so, after only two months of warfare, Napoleon was taking back to France Savoy and Nice as trophies of his brilliant expedition.

This liberator of an Italy which was not liberated, would have liked to restore the fleeing Austrian dukes to their respective thrones in Florence, Modena, and Parma; but he did what was more effectual and pleasing to the enemies of a united Italy:  he garrisoned Rome with French troops, and promised Pius IX. any needed protection for the papal throne.

One can imagine how Garibaldi’s heart was wrung when he exclaimed, “That man has made me a foreigner in my own city!” And so might have said the king himself.

The emperor and the empire had been immensely strengthened by the Italian campaign.  France was rejoicing in a phenomenal prosperity, reaching every part of the land.  There was a new France and a new Paris; new boulevards were made, gardens and walks and drives laid out, and a renewed and magnificent city extended from the Bois de Vincennes on one side to the Bois de Boulogne on the other.  With the building of public works there was occupation for all, resulting in the repose for which France had longed.