ake General Garibaldi under my arm and say: "Let's go and see
what they are about inside Verona!"'

Cialdini tried to stir up the quarrel anew by a letter full of foolish
personalities; but to this sort of attack Garibaldi was impervious. It
mattered nothing to him that a man should make rude remarks about his
wearing a red shirt. He admired the victor of Castelfidardo as one of
Italy's best soldiers. He was, therefore, perfectly ready to embrace
Cialdini at the King's request before he left Turin for Caprera. It
cost him more to consent to an interview of reconciliation with the
Prime Minister in the royal presence, because his disagreement with
Cavour was purely political and impersonal, and was rooted more deeply
in his heart than any private irritation could be; but he did consent,
and the interview took place on the 23rd of April. Probably Victor
Emmanuel in after days was never gladder of anything he had done than
of having caused his two great subjects--both his subjects born--to
part for the last time in this mortal life in peace.

On one other memorable occasion the man who, at twenty-two, said that
he meant to be Prime Minister of Italy, and who now, at fifty-one, was
keeping his word, filled with his presence the Chamber of which he
seemed to incarnate the life and history--which may be said to have
been his only home, for Cavour hardly had a private life. Very soon
the familiar figure was to vacate the accustomed place for ever.

An obscure deputy put a question on the 25th of May, which gave Cavour
the opportunity of expounding his views about Rome still more
explicitly than in the previous autumn. It was impossible, he said, to
conceive Italian unity without Rome as capital. Were there any other
solution to the problem he would be willing to give it due
consideration, but there was not. The position of a capital was not
decided by climatic or topographical reasons: a glance at capitals of
Europe was sufficient to certify the fact; it was decided by moral
reasons. Now Rome, alone out of the Italian cities, had an undisputed
moral claim to primacy. 'As far as I am personally concerned,' he
said, 'I shall go to Rome with sorrow; not caring for art, I am sure
that among the most splendid monuments of ancient and modern Rome I
shall regret the sedate and unpoetic streets of my native town.' It
grieved him to think that Turin must resign her most cherished
privilege, but he knew his fellow-citizens, and he kne