Unanimity is no flower
of this earth.

This improved state of things and feelings, within so short a period of
time, reflects equal credit on the people which benefits by it and on
the men who have lately presided over its destinies. Among these last it
were invidious not to mention, with well-deserved praise, the active and
accomplished statesman who introduced free trade, caused Piedmont to
take its share in the Crimean War, and last, not least, by a bold and
skilful move, brought the Italian question before the Congress of Paris.

During the summer of 1848, I rented a couple of rooms in the Via dell'
Arcivescovado. There often fell upon my ear, wafted across the court
from the windows opposite mine, a loud and regular declamation. I
fancied it was a preacher learning by heart his sermon, or an actor his
part. I was told one day that it was Count Cavour, the owner of the
house, who, as a prelude to his parliamentary career, was addressing an
imaginary assembly. The fact struck me the more, as the Count was not a
member of Parliament at the time. He was elected a Deputy and took his
seat not long after. I was present at his _debut_. It was not brilliant.
Count Cavour was not born an orator; his delivery was far from fluent.
He had many things to say, and wanted to say them all at once. The sense
of the House was not favorable to the new member,--that of the public
galleries still less so. No man was less spoiled by popularity than he.
I have no other reason for mentioning these particulars than to put in
relief the strength of will and the perseverance which one so situated
must have brought to bear, in order to conquer his own deficiencies and
the popular prejudice, and attain, against wind and tide, the high place
he holds in the estimation of Parliament and of the country. That Count
Cavour has made himself, if not properly an orator, in the high sense of
the word, a nervous, fluent, and most agreeable speaker, is sufficiently
attested by the untiring attention with which his speeches, occupying
sometimes two whole sittings, are listened to in both Houses. He never
puts them in writing, and seldom, if ever, makes use of notes.

Life is substantial in Turin, and on a broad, homely scale. By which you
are not to understand, either that the male portion of the inhabitants
feast on whole oxen, like Homer's heroes, or that, the fair sex are
draped in tunics of homespun wool, like the Roman matrons of old. They
are not