“Then,” replied he, “it must go out.” “But,” added he, as if half in thought, placing at the same time a letter-case straight on the table,—“even if the ministry should be compelled to resign from one cause or another—still it is my conviction that the present system would stand firm, and that the new ministry could not avoid carrying it out.”
The manner and the tone in which these words were spoken, convinced me that in them Cavour expressed his innermost thought. The principle for which he labored was the important thing, not his own position.
When I told him that I had not seen any statesman who appeared so easily to bear the burden of state life, he smiled, as he replied:
“Oh, it only appears so; but behind in the depth are many cares, and it is not easy to preserve alight the sacred fire (le feu sacré).”
And yet the appearance is not here deceptive. Cavour, according to what I heard from more than one of his friends, bears comparatively easily his post, important and difficult as it is at this time, as President of the Council of Piedmont, and as the foremost leader of its destiny. The fact is, that he is possessed of a statesman nature, and executes his business as Mozart executed his symphonies or fugues, Raphael his pictures, without racking his brains or with much difficulty of any kind. He is in his realm a genius, and an artist, as they. But I will now bring my conversation with him to a close, or rather my recollection of it.
At parting, I laid upon his heart to bring about
