To
preserve the individuality of his state, or to merge it in the vision of
a United Italy, seemed to him the only alternatives worth fighting for.
The former was a futile dream, the latter seemed for a brief moment
possible. Piedmont, ever loyal to the monarchical principle, was calling
on her sister states to arm themselves against the French invasion. But
the response was reluctant and uncertain. Private ambitions and petty
jealousies hampered every attempt at union. Austria, the Bourbons and
the Holy See held the Italian principalities in a network of conflicting
interests and obligations that rendered free action impossible. Sadly
Victor Amadeus armed himself alone against the enemy.
Under such conditions Odo could do little to direct the course of
events. They had passed into more powerful hands than his. But he could
at least declare himself for or against the mighty impulse which was
behind them. The ideas he had striven for had triumphed at last, and his
surest hold on authority was to share openly in their triumph. A
profound horror dragged him back. The new principles were not those for
which he had striven. The goddess of the new worship was but a bloody
Maenad who had borrowed the attributes of freedom. He could not bow the
knee in such a charnel-house. Tranquilly, resolutely, he took up the
policy of repression. He knew the attempt was foredoomed to failure, but
that made no difference now: he was simply acting out the inevitable.
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