CHAPTER XI: ROME, 1915-1916: Difference between revisions
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A British Military Mission under Brigadier-General Delmé | |||
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had a disconcerting effect on the Allies. | had a disconcerting effect on the Allies. | ||
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Revision as of 20:12, 17 October 2008
A British Military Mission under Brigadier-General Delmé Radcliffe, the former military attaché at Rome, was sent to the Italian headquarters with an intelligence section under Colonel Vivian Gabriel. The other Allies were represented by their actual military attachés in Italy. I received through the Foreign Office a memorandum drawn up by the War Office, defining the functions of the Military Mission and the correlative position of the military attaché. Its terms seemed quite satisfactory, and if properly observed they should have ensured general co-ordination with the Embassy at Rome. Unfortunately during the war there seems to have been a disposition in departments at home to shut themselves up like watertight compartments, and not always to remember that in a national cause all were members one of the other. This disposition was in certain cases reflected in their agents abroad. It is perhaps unnecessary to elaborate this point further, but I cannot do otherwise than insist that a tendency, which was, I gather, not peculiar to my experience, on the part of the Military Missions to act rather in rivalry and competition than in co-operation with the diplomatic establishment was much to be regretted, not only on the grounds of expediency but on account of the impression it produced in the country where they were stationed.
The Italian campaign opened successfully, and the first few
weeks showed steady advances along a very extended line. Unfortunately,
it seemed to be destined that advantages gained by the Allies
in one sector should always be counterbalanced by unsuccess in
another. The Italians had reckoned on a considerable proportion
of the Austro-Hungarian Army being permanently engaged in stemming
the Russian advance. But they had not long taken the field when
that demoralizing deficiency of armament and ammunition became
apparent, which rendered inevitable the Russian withdrawal from
Galicia. Serbia also, after her magnificent resistance and counteroffensive,
had become immobilized. The relaxation of effort on the South-eastern
front put an unexpected strain on Italian resources, and gave
direct encouragement to the anti-war party.
1 was asked about this time by an ex-deputy of my acquaintance
whether I would receive a gentleman who had a communication to
make to me on behalf of the dispossessed Khedive, Abbas Hilmi.
The individual in question, who was also a former member of the
Italian Parliament, had, as I afterwards learned, been the subject
of criticism for his connection with certain unsuccessful business
affairs before my arrival in Italy. But his name, Cavallini, did
not then arouse my suspicions, and there appeared to be no reason
for declining to see an individual who was described to me as
the ex-Khedive's man of business. The story which was unfolded
to me was that Abbas Hilmi, whose life had been attempted in Constantinople,
was unnerved and thoroughly tired of his association with the
Young Turks. He was anxious to escape from the meshes in which
he was entangled, recognizing the mistakes which he had made,
and desired to lead a retired life, his only interest being now
the education of his son. He sought permission to live in the
country in England, under such supervision as the authorities
might impose, and to send his son to school there. As our personal
relations in Egypt had always been friendly, he addressed himself
thus vicariously to me in the hope that I would obtain the sanction
of the Government. I could of course do no more than refer the
proposal to the proper quarter. Kitchener, whose connection with
Egypt was regarded as only temporarily severed while he held the
post of War Minister, was of opinion that the presence of the
ex-Khedive in England during the war would not be advisable, and
might be misunderstood by the new régime which had been
established at Cairo. So the matter went no further. I took occasion
to mention the visit of Cavallini and its ostensible object to
the Italian Foreign Department. Personally I then rather inclined
to the opinion that it might have been wise to eliminate a possible
focus of intrigue by acceding to the proposal. Some two years
later, when Cavallini was placed under arrest on a charge of intriguing
with the enemy, and his alleged relations with Caillaux were engaging
public attention, I began to wonder whether he had had any object
in view in making contact with me, ostensibly as an emissary of
the ex-Khedive. He was certainly not acting from pure philanthropy.
But probably his mission was simply a business affair. In the
course of the trial which, like several others initiated about
the same time, terminated inconclusively, I was invited to give
evidence as to what I knew about Cavallini. I declined to appear
in court, but furnished the Bench through the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs with a statement regarding the occasion of his visit.
As soon as Italy became our ally, Sonnino returned with insistence
to the urgency of dealing with the Balkan situation and of preventing
the gravitation of Bulgaria to the enemy. The typical Macedonian
partisan who had represented that country in Rome and who latterly
had seemed to live in Bülow's pocket, had been appropriately
transferred to Berlin, and a more frank exchange of views was
facilitated by the arrival soon afterwards of the sympathetic
M. Stancioff. Meanwhile the illusive Ghenadieff, who was playing
an independent hand, had also been to see me, and had given me
some idea of the terms which his followers would consider acceptable,
or sufficiently tempting. The sympathies of the contriving Coburg
Prince, whose astuteness had enabled him to weather many internal
crises, were obviously not with the Allies. During the second
phase of the Balkan War he seems to have entered into a secret
understanding with Vienna, and though there was some suspicion
that he had already made advances to Berlin and Vienna, I had
no definite information on the subject. In any case, it did not
follow that he would carry the country with him, and his previous
record justified a presumption that he would not have committed
himself irretrievably so long as any doubt remained with which
side it would best serve his ambition to be identified. Bulgaria
naturally saw in the actual situation her opportunity to redress
the heavy adverse balance of the Balkan War. Co-operation with
the Allies in an attack on the Turkish Empire offered a prospect
of recovering her commanding position in the peninsula. On the
other hand, the value of Bulgarian support to the Allies was so
obvious that her demands were not likely to be modest. Her principal
object was to secure the reversion of what was represented to
be Bulgarian Macedonia. A more extended seaboard on the Aegean
was also contemplated, and Kavalla with the rich tobacco-producing
areas in the hinterland was a coveted aim. Such advantages could
only be realized by ample concessions from the rival states which
were in actual possession. A mere promise of sympathetic consideration
for such claims in an eventual settlement had no value for the
practical Balkan mind. A definite guarantee from the Allies regarding
Macedonia might up to a certain date have had its effect in Bulgaria.
But none of her neighbours were going to offer her any concessions
spontaneously, and, even though it might present the only road
of safety, it was difficult to urge upon Serbia when, after bearing
the brunt of the attack, she was in an isolated and critical position,
any surrender which appeared to her to involve the national honour.
Sonnino throughout adopted a practical and unsentimental line.
He was convinced that we ought to concentrate all our efforts
on attracting Bulgaria, even at the risk of alienating other Balkan
states. The presumption that he anticipated an eventual conflict
of claims between Italy and the southern Slavs does not impugn
the logical force of his argument. It was clear that we could
not satisfy every one. He held that a huckstering policy of offering
a little here and a little there was a mistake. You would never
get to the end of certain appetites. In seeking to preserve the
goodwill of all you would succeed with none, while you would meanwhile
have given a prescriptive recognition to titles which it would
be more valuable to keep in hand for future negotiations. Ministers
whose position made it impossible for them to make any advances
to Bulgaria might, he argued, nevertheless not be unprepared to
have their hands forced. In any case, he held that Italy had pledged
herself to the maintenance of a Mussulman State in Albania, and
could not go back on that engagement.
In all these negotiations the Allies laboured under a great
disadvantage, because it was necessary to bring into line four
great Powers, each of which had its own prejudices and predispositions,
whereas the enemy, after the entry of Italy into the war, seemed
to act under a single direction and initiative. Looking back on
the discussions which continued throughout the summer and into
the autumn, I cannot but think that had the Allies rejected all
sentimental considerations, the chance was at one time open to
them of securing the co-operation of Bulgaria. But we left her
far too long without any definite decision, and in the meantime
Roumania, who was not likely to move until the Russian offensive
had been resumed, obtained the promise, conditionally on her joining
the Allies, of practically all she demanded. Of course in the
main it is success in arms which tells at such a moment, and we
were not able, with the suspense of Russian activity and the deadlock
in the Dardanelles, to show a credit balance. In the end the inevitable
took place: while we were still striving to reconcile the irreconcilable,
the Bulgarians, whose uncertain attitude had kept a considerable
portion of the Serbian Army in observation, overran Macedonia,
and the enemy then delivered a crushing blow to a country no longer
able to resist.
Even after we had bombarded Dedeagach and punished the treachery
of stabbing Serbia in the back, Sonnino expressed the opinion
that it might still be possible to come to terms with the Bulgarians,
who had achieved one of their principal objects, and thus to redress
the balance so hopelessly against us in the Balkans. There were,
he claimed, indications that they would even then have been ready
to come to terms. Sentimental reasons were obviously opposed to
such an idea. But Russia was inclined to make the King rather
than the Bulgarian people responsible for what had taken place,
and experience had shown that the latter found no difficulty in
fighting against their friends of yesterday and allying themselves
with their enemies of the day before. If Bulgaria could still
at that late hour be drawn away from the enemy camp, it would
liberate us from any future anxiety for Salonika, which the Allies
had impulsively occupied in the hope of saving Serbia: it would
relieve the position at the Dardanelles, and produce a considerable
effect in Greece and Roumania. Sonnino's diplomacy was in any
case logical and consistent. But in putting these views before
me he said he should refrain from raising the question himself.
He had received the impression that his motives, in insisting
on the necessity for conciliating Bulgaria, were arousing suspicion
elsewhere.
Such a brief retrospective glance at the Balkan imbroglio in
1915 conveys little idea of the immense correspondence
for which it was responsible. Another matter which tended to complicate
the inter-allied position was the fact that Italy had not declared
war upon Germany or Turkey. She had indeed, on joining the Entente,
acceded to the declaration of September 1914. But for
reasons of internal policy her accession had at the time been
kept secret. The explanation of much which seemed to our people
difficult at the time to understand lay in the false Parliamentary
situation prevailing in the country. Had it been possible immediately
after May 1915 to have had a dissolution and an appeal
to the country, the course of the Ministry would no doubt have
been smoother. But in spite of the almost unanimous support they
had received under the exceptional conditions accompanying Salandra's
recall to office, they were conscious that they had not a really
secure majority in a Chamber where a latent opposition might always
raise its head again. There were, moreover, those influential
social and financial elements to which I have already referred,
who were more disposed to dwell upon the inducements which might
be offered for abandoning the war, than to make sacrifices for
maintaining it. After the ultimate triumph of the Allies many
who made little secret of their sentiments at the time have been
anxious to draw a veil over the part they then played. But those
who remember the contrast which it offered to the fine spirit
of the Italian people as a whole are not so likely to forget.
Having in mind the gravity of the crisis which had been surmounted
in May, I was less anxious than my French colleague to press for
the declaration of war on Germany at this moment. Sonnino, who
was I believe from the first in favour of it, had difficulty with
some of his colleagues, who were perhaps unduly apprehensive of
the attitude of Parliament, and who held that until they could
break their way through the defences of the Isonzo, it was to
their advantage not to incite the Germans to concentrate special
attention on Italy. I had every confidence that Sonnino would
carry his point in time, but for the moment he argued that they
were actually fighting against Germans in the Trentino, that all
relations between the countries had long ceased, and that there
was more to be gained by consolidating the position of the Government,
which a strong faction was trying to upset, than by a formal declaration
of war which would not really alter the situation. He thought
it much more urgent to break definitively with Turkey, and took
his measures to prepare public opinion, so that he was enabled
in September to declare war against the Ottoman Empire without
arousing any particular comment. Though I did not seek to force
Sonnino's hand so long as I understood that he had difficulties
with his colleagues, I warmly supported the French Ambassador
in urging more active co-operation in the Balkans when Serbia
was very hard pressed. It would, I represented, help to dissipate
misunderstandings which the undefined position with Germany made
inevitable. Sonnino agreed, but said he would be perfectly candid
with me. If Germany would take the initiative, no one would welcome
more cordially than he this way of terminating the abnormal position.
But there were too many people in Italy disposed to be---he used
an English word though speaking in Italian---hysterical, and it
was useless to scare them unnecessarily. When you were substantially
at war it made little difference whether you were technically
so.
The chief disadvantage arising from this condition of affairs
was a certain withholding of confidence, due to a feeling among
some of the Powers that Italy was as yet only half-involved in
the European struggle and was fighting her own battle rather in
association than in complete co-operation with the Allies. I could
realize that this attitude was a consequence of the internal situation,
and would be remedied as soon as Sonnino could convince his colleagues.
In the meantime it seemed to me both politic and just to have
due consideration for statesmen who, in spite of so many adverse
conditions, had taken the great decision, and who had their own
difficulties to overcome at home. On the other hand, discussions
had been initiated between London, Paris and St. Petersburg with
regard to the ultimate fate of the Turkish Empire, with which
the rest of the Allies had been fighting for nearly a year before
Italy entered into the war, and a general understanding was reached
without the new ally having been consulted. Sight was not lost
of the eventual claims which Italy would be entitled to advance
under the Pact of London. But the disposition prevailed to reserve
complete confidence until a somewhat anomalous position had been
cleared up. This was unfortunate, as the conditions contemplated
were bound to become known sooner or later. Sonnino had indeed
assumed that these problems were engaging attention, and had addressed
a question on the subject to Paris which received a negative answer.
The situation thus created presented one of the most troublesome
problems with which I had to deal, and it led to graver complications
later on when the claims of Italy came to be discussed. Sonnino
argued that he had allowed himself to be persuaded only to raise
the matter generally at the time when Italy threw over the Triple
Alliance and joined us, but that he did so in perfect confidence
that there would be no settlement of these issues without due
consultation.
As regards dispatching troops to other sectors, the difficulty
for the Italians was that while they had plenty of men in training
they had as yet no complete military formations available to send
abroad, beyond the contingent in Albania. Owing to the geographical
conditions on the Alpine frontier with its long diverging valleys
separated by impassable ridges, each of which required its own
service of communications and supplies, the line which had to
be occupied was far longer than a cursory glance at the map would
suggest. It extended over more than 600 kilometres (375 miles)
or 800 if some vigilance were also to be maintained on the Swiss
frontier. The King of Italy told me that owing to the length of
this line, of which only about 100 kilometres were really impenetrable,
it had been necessary in the summer of 1916 to keep men in the
front line trenches for 114 days on end, because there were no
others available to relieve them. Men were, however, found for
Salonika, where the contingent was kept up to its full strength.
The Italian force, moreover, which eventually fought on the Western
front almost counterbalanced numerically the British and French
divisions sent to Italy after the disaster of Caporetto.
Looking back on my constant discussions during some four years
with Sonnino, to whom I was personally sincerely attached, I have
often wondered how the old-fashioned diplomatist, full of amour
propre and punctilious about the rules of the game, would have
got on with him. We generally began to talk in English. But after
a short time he would relapse into Italian, only occasionally
using a particular English phrase which had no precise Italian
equivalent: "It is not fair," was one which continually
recurred. He had a congenital habit of saying no in the first
instance to most propositions submitted to him, and that on occasions
with considerable emphasis. But with time and patience he generally
came round to any proposal which was really reasonable. By nature
the most courteous of men, he suffered from a certain temperamental
irritability which he did his best to suppress, but which would
at times break out. Occasionally, when he had something much at
heart he would talk himself into a state of excitement which betrayed
itself physically. Such outbursts were not directed against me
personally, nor appreciably against my Government. But any suspicion,
even if aroused by a process of autosuggestion, that Italy was
not being treated exactly as were the other Allies, that she was
being pressed to do what he regarded as beyond her powers, or
that her point of view was not receiving due consideration at
once affected his susceptibilities. From experience I learned
to know when a storm was brewing. His face became very red under
its white hair, and he would nervously pick up documents from
his table and throw them down again. Then at last he would rise
from his seat and walk once or twice agitatedly up and down the
room. After the first manifestation of these symptoms, I always
remained perfectly silent, and in a minute or two Sonnino would
come back to his chair, saying in English: "I beg your pardon."
Then we would resume the matter in hand. I liked him all the better
for these outbursts, unusual in a ministerial study, which showed
that he felt he knew me well enough to let himself go. They might
have startled anyone less familiar with his moods.
In July, George Trevelyan, the historian, was in Rome with
proposals for the organization of a British Ambulance unit at
the Italian front. Precluded himself by age and medical unsoundness
from more active military functions, he had decided that he could
undertake no more useful service than cooperation of this nature
in the Allied country, where he was already well known as an eminent
historical authority on the Garibaldian epoch. The requirements
of the Allies on the Western front in respect of ambulance and
Red Cross service were now amply provided for. It was understood
that in Italy there was as yet a lack of motor ambulances, and
indeed the Minister for War, to whom I was requested to submit
the proposal, received it most cordially. Mr. (now Sir) Walter
Becker of Turin also offered to provide some cars at his own charges.
A British Committee in aid of the Italian wounded had been instituted
in London under the chairmanship of Mr. E. H. Gilpin, who was
ready to devote the funds actually at his disposal to the same
purpose. It was therefore not difficult to co-ordinate these several
volunteer activities which were eventually associated under the
aegis of the British Red Cross in equipping and maintaining the
First British Red Cross Unit in Italy, to which a field hospital
was also attached. George Trevelyan was placed in command of the
capable personnel which had been recruited. It included several
members of the Society of Friends, whose scruples against themselves
engaging actively in warfare did not diminish their readiness
to expose their own persons to all the perils of war. They had
already done noble service at Ypres. Mr. Becker continued generously
to contribute to the support of this British initiative throughout
the campaign, and Lord Monson, the British Red Cross Commissioner
for Italy, before long organized two additional units.
The first British cars, twenty-six in number, arrived in Italy
in September, and were received with the warmest welcome. My old
friend, Ernesto Nathan, formerly Syndic of Rome, the kindest and
most genial of patriots, had, notwithstanding his seventy years,
joined the Alpine troops as a sub-lieutenant. His strength was
really not equal to military duties, and he was, appropriately
enough in view of his long residence in England, delegated to
look after the British visitors. From the time they settled down
to their work until the end of the campaign, they remained continually
with the front fighting line, where they paid their due toll in
casualties to the ruthlessness of war. They earned enthusiastic
commendation from the military authorities, whose reports I was
allowed to see, and did excellent service to their own country
by establishing relations of cordial sympathy with our Allies.
The field hospital which found quarters in an old villa not
far from the fighting line was directed by Dr. Brook, who in younger
days in South Africa had looked after the health of the Kruger
family. He had been some twenty years in Rome, and if we were
now deprived of his advice there his absence was a contribution
to the common cause. The surgical section was in the capable hands
of Sir Alexander Ogston and Dr. W. E. Thompson, who represented
Canadian science. The Director of the British School in Rome,
Dr. Thomas Ashby, suspended his archaeological activities in the
capital to serve with the unit in an administrative capacity.
In the succeeding years other volunteer services were organized
by British friends of Italy. Countess Helena Gleichen and Mrs.
Hollings brought out and drove a radiographic car which circulated
among the field hospitals and proved most valuable to the surgeons.
Mrs. Watkins, with a devoted following of younger ladies, organized
canteens at the rail heads near the Front, and earned the undying
gratitude of many warm-hearted simple fellows who have carried
back to their scattered homes a pleasant memory of helpful hands
and kind English faces.
Our younger children found their way out to us for the summer
holidays, but they could not remain in Rome, and went on to Naples,
so that I saw very little of them. Towards the end of their holidays
we were profoundly saddened by the announcement of the death of
Charles Lister after he had been for the third time wounded at
Gallipoli. Rome had been his first diplomatic post, and in the
intimate summer life of Posillipo he had become like a member
of the family. He was moreover the son of some of my oldest friends.
Charles Lister struck me as probably the most remarkable of the
younger generation with whom I had been in contact, and of the
many who served on my staff none established stronger claim to
my affection and regard. At Balliol his humanitarian instincts
and a "passion for reforming the world" had made him
a convinced Socialist. But he became before long equally convinced
that the Socialists with whom he had had to do were moving on
wrong lines. He was a keen scholar with a natural disposition
to research, but at the same time an original thinker, conscientious
in the performance of all duties and generous in every fibre.
With a clumsy seat on a horse he was a fearless rider, who confessed
to a divided mind as to whether the life of a fox-hunting squire
or that of a college don attracted him most. Putting neither to
the test, he became a diplomatist. I never quite understood how
he had succeeded on the outbreak of war in cutting himself free
from the liens of the public service when the spirit of the crusader
moved him, like Rupert Brook, Patrick Shaw Stewart, and other
brilliant contemporaries, to devote, their lives to the great
adventure which cut them off in the flower of their youth. His
elder brother, Tommy, less gifted no doubt but equally attractive
in a different way, had fallen some ten years earlier, intercepted
when carrying dispatches by the Mad Mullah's tribesmen in the
Somali bush.
This was an intimate grief. When a month or so later we learned
of the execution of Edith Cavell at Brussels, its tragic circumstance
seemed once more almost to convey a sense of personal loss. It
had been impossible to believe in the twentieth century in Europe
that a death sentence even if passed would be carried out on a
woman so eminently gentle, good, and kind, whose life had been
devoted to alleviating suffering. The impression on the world
was profound. I was crossing the Palatine, during the brief walk
which I still endeavoured to make a daily habit, when one of the
old guardians known to me for years came up and expressed his
abhorrence of the deed. He conveyed the prevailing feelings of
his class when he said: "We will avenge her."
I had been rather perplexed by the arrival in Rome, provided
in some cases with letters from well-known people, of certain
fellow-countrymen who were anxious to make wholesale purchases
of rifles said to be in the market in Italy. There were, if I
remember rightly, also one or two Americans interested in this
affair. Those who called at the Embassy were emphatic in maintaining
that there was no danger of these rifles passing to the enemy
or to States of doubtful gravitation, and that their destination
was a perfectly legitimate one. But what the precise destination
was to be, these individuals, who appeared to be agents, were
unable or unprepared to say. Discreet enquiries elicited the information
that when the Italian Army rifle had been changed, certain speculators
had obtained an option for the disposal of the discarded stocks.
The Italian Government, however, intervened, and quashed any such
option, after which the would-be purchasers withdrew. The rifles
in question were in excellent condition, and though requiring
a different cartridge to that used in the newer service rifle,
would be valuable for the training of second-line troops. Nevertheless,
in view of the urgent demand for rifles in Russia, the Italian
Government agreed to transfer a certain number to the Allied Government,
and we made ourselves responsible for conveying them to their
destination. The strictest secrecy had of course to be maintained,
and every hour of time gained was of importance. Our military
representative at the Front showed characteristic energy in accelerating
the packing and consignment, and the rapidity with which the work
was carried out merited and received commendation. When it was
already well in hand and some consignments were actually ready,
a British Rear-Admiral, accompanied by an interpreter, arrived
on the scene with instructions to superintend the packing of these
rifles. He had, I hope, a pleasant visit to the most interesting
of all cities. But had I had any warning of his visit, I could
have saved him an unnecessary journey.
Many other instances came under my experience of the curious
lack of inter-departmental co-ordination thus revealed. One morning
in the autumn a military commission of medical officers under
a major-general, who happened to be an old friend of mine, appeared
at the Embassy and informed me that they were leaving again by
an afternoon train for Sicily, where they proposed to establish
a military hospital on a large scale for the wounded evacuated
from the Dardanelles, as the resources of Malta no longer sufficed
to take the large number of cases. They wanted facilities and
accommodation in the train. But, I enquired---this being the first
I had heard of the project---had the Italian Government agreed
to the establishment of a British Military Hospital in Sicily?
and through whom had they been approached? It then appeared that
the Italian authorities had not been consulted at all. I explained
that we were not in military occupation of the country, as we
were of certain sectors in France and Belgium, and could only
act in such matters by agreement and sanction. I was able to persuade
them somewhat reluctantly to postpone their departure till the
following day, which gave me time to place the proposal before
the many hierarchies concerned, civil, military, and sanitary.
As always on such occasions, the Italian Government were most
liberal and expeditious in meeting our views, and instructions
were at once sent to Palermo, where every assistance was given
both in finding a site and in obtaining labour and material. Not
twenty-four hours were lost, and everything was then placed upon
a normal and friendly basis. With cordial co-operation from the
Sicilian authorities the construction of hospital buildings on
a large scale was carried out with great promptitude. Hotels which
had no tourists to fill them were hired as convalescent stations,
and all was on the point of readiness when the decision to withdraw
from Gallipoli rendered vain this great expenditure of money,
energy, and goodwill. The only consolation to be derived from
the abandoned enterprise was that it had offered welcome employment
to labour in an island which was feeling severely the loss of
some of its best markets.
In October, O'Beirne, who had but recently gone to Sofia as
Minister, passed through Rome travelling homeward again. If any
personal influence could have retrieved a hopeless situation,
no better representative to exercise it could have been found
than poor O'Beirne, who was to lose his life with Kitchener a
few months later. But it was too late. Sir Roger Keyes also arrived
from the Dardanelles, and from him and from Admiral Hayes-Sadler,
who came from Mudros, I heard the latest news of our position
there.
Towards the end of that month it became evident that unless
large supporting forces could be made available the resisting
power of Serbia would shortly be at an end, and France was urging
the dispatch of more troops to Salonika as a base for active operations.
I have always carefully refrained in my profession from advancing
opinions on matters not strictly arising out of my own immediate
duties. But at this time I felt so strongly that there was only
one sound course open to us if we were to save a situation which
was rapidly becoming dangerous in the Near East, that I ventured
in a private letter to the Secretary of State to express my convictions.
At the end of October 1915 everything pointed to a deadlock,
except in one quarter. On the Western front it was established.
Russia might develop new resources and come again, but not for
some time. Probability pointed to the Germans settling down on
lines in Russia or Russian Poland beyond which they would not
endeavour to push. Italy had made good progress, especially in
the Trentino, but the rugged nature of the country defied rapid
advances, and winter was now not far away. We controlled the seas.
The central empires were almost enclosed in the iron circle. Only
in the south-east there was a break in the ring. It was now too
late to save Serbia, and in view of the geographical position
and practical isolation of Salonika, the force there was bound
to be immobilized for a very long period. The dispatch of additional
troops meant courting risks not commensurate with any advantages
we were likely to secure. The Balkans would always remain a quicksand
in which our energies would be engulfed. There was at that time
nothing to be hoped from Greece or Bulgaria. Germany would inevitably
make contact with Constantinople. The ring would be indefinitely
enlarged. Turkey would obtain all the arms of which she stood
in need, and the road would be open to Egypt and Asia. At some
point we had now to close the ring. To me there seemed no doubt
that point should be in Syria, probably at Alexandretta; precisely
where was a question for the naval and military experts to decide.
We were bound to hold Egypt, and the security of Egypt could best
be guaranteed in Syria. There we should operate in a friendly
country where there were apparently only two Turkish divisions.
Any actual movement at that time of Allied forces would have been
assumed to have Egypt or the Dardanelles for their destination,
so that a landing in Syria might be effected as a surprise. The
ring would of course be considerably enlarged ; but it would be
effectively closed, and our prestige in the Mussulman world would
have revived.
About a month later I heard from Kitchener's own lips that
he held and had advocated precisely the same view. He regarded
it as an alternative, and the right one to our immobilizing forces
at Salonika.
On the evening of my fifty-seventh birthday, the 9th November,
I was called to London to discuss certain matters. I started on
the 10th, being anxious to lose no time, as I knew that my son,
whom I had not seen for nearly two years, was at home on a week's
leave which would expire on the 14th. I reached the Lyons station
at Paris on the morning of the 12th with three-quarters of an
hour in hand to catch the Boulogne train at the Nord. Bertie had
sent his car, and fifteen minutes sufficed to cross Paris, so
prospects looked bright. But on reaching Boulogne I found two
steamers had just been sunk by mines off the entrance to the harbour.
A gale was blowing and the mine-sweepers could not go out. There
would therefore be no boat. The Commandant considered Calais offered
the only chance. The next morning a messenger from Abbeville picked
me up in his car and we went on to Calais. But no boat had come
in there, and the state of the sea made it improbable that one
would arrive. I waited till 4.30 in the afternoon, and then telephoned
to the Foreign Office that I was detained in Calais, where three
messengers from the Front were also held up. By eight o'clock
the destroyer Cossack arrived to fetch us. There were thirty-five
officers waiting for a last chance of leave, and Lieutenant McGee,
who was in command, was ready to give them a lift if I would agree,
which of course I was delighted to do. In forty-five minutes we
were at Dover, and I reached London at midnight. My son was still
at Cavendish Square, but had to leave the following afternoon.
Four busy days in London were soon over. I lunched with the
Prime Minister, discussed my business with Grey and Nicholson
at the Foreign Office, and was received by the King, who was recovering
from his accident at the French front. A good deal of my time
was spent with Robin Benson and some of his friends in the city,
whose interest he was enlisting in a banking scheme which I had
much at heart for the facilitation of British enterprise and investment
in Italy, where a sound and independent economic intermediary
was much needed. After much energetic pioneer work, Benson and
his friends succeeded in establishing a very strong combination
between most of the leading banks of the United Kingdom. But the
directors demanded a guarantee over a limited number of years,
and this appeared for a time to present an insurmountable obstacle.
Thanks, however, to the warm support given to the scheme by Mr.
Runciman at the Board of Trade, the Treasury was, mirabile
dictu, induced to guarantee for five years a return of 5 per
cent on the capital. And thus the British-Italian Corporation
was inaugurated. After the conclusion of peace it was found desirable
to modify the character of the Corporation, which ceased to contemplate
commercial enterprise, and has restricted its operations to pure
banking business. Independent now of any guarantee, it has found
a wide and ever-increasing field of activity. Sound methods of
business and a very powerful financial backing have inspired general
confidence in Italy in an institution which remains one of the
permanent assets of the war.
This brief visit to London, where I had not been for nearly
two years, was I think rather depressing than encouraging to me.
That wonderful national solidarity in concerted effort and sacrifice
which inspired the whole British nation when once they realized
the real gravity of the crisis had not yet fully manifested itself,
and people seemed to me not to have emancipated themselves from
old habits of thought or to have risen above political animosities
to the greatness of the times. In political quarters I heard much
criticism of Kitchener, whose position seemed to be quite undermined.
The thought of that solitary self-concentrated figure in his isolation
depressed me. It may well have been that his work was done, and
that the old habit of reserve and long reflection and reluctance
to delegate authority were not compatible with the urgency of
new conditions. But for me he still remained the man of vision,
whose call to his countrymen on the outbreak of war found a response
which no other voice could have evoked. I have heard it said since
that had he not made the appeal some one else would no doubt have
done so. That may be true. But at that time, so far as I am aware,
no other public man had dared to think in millions and predict
a war of years, and I always look to his bold pronouncement with
a certain exaltation of spirit. He had started for the Near East,
and would pass through Rome on his homeward way, so that I should
hear the other side from himself.
My wife who had gone to England with our children started back
with me on the 18th of November. The previous day the hospital
ship Anglia and another vessel which went to her assistance had
been sunk by mines in the Channel. We passed through some of the
floating wreckage on our way to Boulogne, whence we travelled
directly to Rome.
Thirty-six hours in the train, away from telegrams and visitors,
seemed a real holiday. At least one had time to think. We had
evidently a very bad period before us, and the retrospect over
what might have been was disheartening. Had we had twenty thousand
men to land at the time of the first naval attack on the Dardanelles,
Constantinople would have been open to us. Could we have offered
them something tangible we might have had the Bulgarians on our
side. Roumania would ere then have been our ally if Russia had
not run short of ammunition. The Greeks could in that case hardly
have remained isolated, and something like the old Balkan League
might have been reconstituted. As it was, the situation in the
Near East had passed completely out of our control, and the fate
of Serbia was sealed. The approach of winter in the mountains
would arrest the Italian offensive, and unless they could carry
the rest of the formidable positions which were still before them,
their position with torrents swollen by rain and snow in their
rear, might not be too secure. There was little to show on the
credit side, and yet I felt perfect confidence in the future.
A remarkable document which came under my notice about this
time illustrated the difficulties which Austria had to encounter
in maintaining any corporate spirit among her heterogeneous forces.
It was part of an officer's diary found on the battlefield, covering
the period of a month in 1915. The diarist, who wrote in not impeccable
German, was a Slovak.
He was evidently a man of a certain culture, a sceptic with
acute sensibilities and a remarkable gift of expression. For sheer
brutal crudity of realism in depicting life and death in the trenches
on the grim plateau of the Carso, where the Italians were then
pressing their attack, I have never read anything surpassing the
graphic horror of those pages. The most striking phrases reek
too coarsely to reproduce, and one personal experience which so
affected him that his health gave way so that he was on the point
of being invalided when the diary came to an end, is too horrible
to quote. He was probably killed after the concluding lines had
been written. It is curious that already in 1915 he should speak
of the superiority of the Italian Deport gun over their own superannuated
pieces, and should scoff at the Landsturm regiments armed with
antiquated Werndl rifles and ridiculous bayonets. Their presence
in the front lines during the first weeks of the war seems to
corroborate the opinion which I have expressed, that the Austrians
had remained until the last moment convinced that Italy would
not enter into the war, and had in the initial stages relatively
few good divisions available to oppose them.
On the anniversary of Lissa (20th of July), when every one
was carousing and making speeches and his Major was abominably
drunk, he wrote : "And they abuse me for not being a patriot.
Pardon! I was born a Slovak. I passed my infancy in Vienna, my
early youth in Bohemia, two years at Budapest, three years in
Switzerland and then Paris---and after that a poor devil is expected
to know what he really is and actually to be an Austrian patriot."
Farther on the following entry occurred: "I have not yet
been able to make up my mind whether Ensign ---- is Austrian or
Italian in his sentiments. He does not talk politics. I have heard
it said that he fights without enthusiasm. And I myself 'Moi
aussi, je m'en fous!' " Of a comrade reported missing
and believed to be killed he wrote with a real touch of regret:
"He was a brave officer and a man of heart. One would never
have taken him for a Hungarian and a professional soldier to boot."
Such entries are suggestive of how hard it must have been to keep
the old empire of the Habsburgs together. An able and not over-scrupulous
bureaucracy and the most rigid military discipline had succeeded
in maintaining its galvanized life, but "its heart was dead,
and so it could not thrive."
Kitchener landed in Naples on the evening of the 25th of November,
and came on to Rome by the night train. All movements had to be
kept secret, and I only learned that he was due three hours before
the ship came in. But thanks to the telephone and an efficient
Consul-General, the necessary arrangements were made for his further
journey. Fitzgerald was with him, and it was a pleasure to see
Basil Buckley. After breakfast in a small ground-floor dining-room
at the Embassy I saw Kitchener making for the next room, and told
him he must not go there. "Why not? " said Kitchener.
"Because," I replied, knowing his passion for such things,
"I have a rare Rhodian plate on the end wall, and I know
if you see it that I shall never have any peace till you have
extracted it from me." He nevertheless brushed past me, and
with the smile of the genial Kitchener said : "You need not
be anxious. I have already got a specimen of that type."
Then we had a long talk.
Kitchener took a big view of the situation in the East, and
as was his way, looked ahead. He had formed a very gloomy estimate
of the position at Gallipoli, where he had found things even worse
than he had expected. His reflections on the problem of withdrawal
and whether it would be possible left me in little doubt what
his advice to the Government would be. The only sound policy now
for us was to arrest German penetration, where it was still practicable
to do so, namely in Syria, and so to cover Egypt. The Salonika
expedition he regarded as a hopeless adventure. The French in
a spirit of chivalry had rushed into it without studying the conditions,
and they had forced us also to co-operate almost at the point
of the-alliance. It was too late to save Serbia, and we were only
wasting strength there. The single line north from Salonika could
only carry material for a very limited number of men. There were
no roads, and we had neither suitable transport nor mountain guns.
An advance from Salonika was therefore in his opinion at that
time a mathematical impossibility. The same arguments held good
for the Italian force in Albania, where movements on a large scale
were impracticable. It was in their power to hold the ports. But
they should concentrate their main effort on the Isonzo. Salonika
and Gallipoli had made the occupation of Syria impossible. But
it was the right policy.
His own position at home was, he admitted, very difficult.
He had sought to do his best for his country, and therefore he
was ready to go a long way with the Government. But it was hard
for him to associate himself with policies with which he did not
agree. He spoke of the political leaders, as men of action are
wont to do, with a sort of patient intolerance. I said to him
that if he contemplated provoking a trial of strength, even though
he enjoyed a large measure of popular confidence, he would be
beaten. He foresaw this, and said he should again press his views
on the Government, and if they were not adopted he would have
to go. He struck me rather as perplexed and conscious of his isolation,
but as regards the Eastern situation I found in him a man who
knew definitely what he wanted, and his clear conception of what
our policy should be, which happened to coincide exactly with
my own opinion, seemed to belie the suggestions I had heard advanced
in England that he had become like a man out of his depth who
found difficulty in coming to any decision. He repeated to me
the substance of a long conversation which he had had in Athens
with King Constantine, with whom resentment against Venezelos
seemed to outweigh all other considerations.
I took Kitchener to see the Prime Minister and the Minister
for Foreign Affairs. The War Minister and Ferdinando Martini came
to meet him at lunch. In the afternoon he indulged his ruling
passion in visiting some antiquarians with my wife. He selected
an old bench and a chair, the latter I fear a fake. He asked me
to keep them for him and, having in due course paid for them,
I keep them still in memory of his visit. At six in the afternoon
he started for the Italian front. This was the last time I saw
my old friend of twenty years, and I like to think that in our
long acquaintance and official association, I never felt more
strongly drawn to him than on that day we spent together at Rome
during one of the most critical moments of the war.
The meeting of the Italian Parliament on the 1st of December
proved that certain members of the Government had been unnecessarily
nervous regarding the spirit of the chamber. The announcement
now publicly made that Italy had signed the inter-allied declaration
of September 1914, was greeted with demonstrations of approval,
and the Ministerial exposition was enthusiastically received by
all except the irreconcilable Socialists.
Just after Christmas my son was wounded by a fragment of shell.
He had fortunately thrown himself on the ground, and the wound
was only a slight one. About a week later I learned that he was
to join the Intelligence Mission under Colonel Gabriel at the
Italian front, where his knowledge of the language would be useful.
His familiarity with French had already stood him in good stead,
and no doubt accounted for his having been selected as adjutant
of his brigade.
Meanwhile disaster had overtaken Serbia, and the Allies had
been unable to relieve her. But little opposition was offered
to the Austrian Army, which continued to advance into Montenegro
and occupied the Lovcen, thus commanding the Cattaro fiord. The
King, who had so long figured as the last prince of romance in
Europe, appears to have entered into a composition which enabled
him to get away and leave his country to its fate. He landed in
Italy, where no one was very anxious for him to remain, and went
on to France, where he became a pensioner on a liberal scale of
the Allies. The bulk of the Serbian Army with little transport
or food was meantime streaming down the mountain paths into Albania.
The Austrian prisoners in their hands were also marched down to
the coast. The horrors of that Katabasis were grim to contemplate.
The Serbians, however, succeeded in bringing away 50 per cent
of their rifles, a certain number of small guns, and a good many
horses.
Our Ministers in Serbia and Montenegro, Sir Charles des Graz
and Count de Salis, with the Secretaries, had made their way with
difficulty to Scutari. A company of British volunteer nurses who
had been tending the Serbian sick and wounded with the utmost
devotion were also marching through the rugged country, barren
of any supplies, on their way to the sea. All our energies had
now to be directed to getting food across the Adriatic which was
swarming with mines and enemy submarines. The sorry little port
of S. Giovanni di Medua was the nearest available point of contact
with the retreating army. Larking, with such assistance as he
could collect, threw his whole soul into the work of victualling
and rescue, and started an office at Brindisi. It was immensely
difficult to find transport. The Italian Admiralty collected all
the small craft which could be made available. When the first
three vessels which attempted the passage with supplies were sunk,
and the entrance to the little harbour was reported half-blocked
by a wreck, I confess I felt very near despair. And when I learned
that those gallant British nurses had reached the sea, and were
sheltered, shoeless and hungry, but still cheerfully making the
best of it, in a shed at S. Giovanni, I passed sleepless nights
wondering how to get them across. But Fate was kind. They made
the perilous passage in safety, and were dispatched homeward overland.
Prospects, moreover, began to improve. Our steam trawlers in the
southern Adriatic which had been lent to the Italian Government
worked incessantly to keep the fairway clear, and Italian and
British and French destroyers established and held a sort of corridor
along the Albanian shore, through which the broken Serbian Army
was conveyed to Vallona and eventually on to Corfu. The Austrian
prisoners were transported to Sardinia, where they remained till
the end of the war. A few years afterwards, when many details
have been crowded out of memory, how inadequately such few brief
lines as these represent all the alternating hopes and disappointments,
the momentary misunderstandings which arose, the effort and tenacity
and patience which such an emergency called for! Happily the three
provision ships, sunk in the first week, were the only naval losses
incurred in the transport of 100,000 men from small ports or roadsteads
offering no facilities for embarkation and continually exposed
to attack by air and water.
The worst phase of the crisis was actually over, and the indispensable
food supplies which the Italian Government had dispatched were
already accumulating on the farther shore, when I learned that
a British Adriatic expedition was on its way, and in due course
a complete divisional staff, including a large medical contingent,
arrived in Rome, and made their headquarters at the Grand Hotel.
They had a great many motorcars at their disposal, and a special
messenger service to London was inaugurated. Our regular messenger
service had long been economized and the Embassy was dependent
on the military messengers passing through to and from Mudros,
Salonika, or Egypt. I gathered that this expeditionary force had
been organized in order to make touch with the Serbian Army through
Albania and if possible re-organize resistance. But for any such
purpose it was far too late. All that could now be done was to
co-operate in the transport and re-organization of the Serbian
Army. The engineers attached to the Expedition certainly did very
useful service in constructing a pier and a landing-stage at Vallona.
Having heard incidentally that several hundred motor-lorries were
being embarked for conveyance to the Adriatic, I ventured to remind
the responsible authorities at home that Albania was a country
without any roads, that there were no bridges over rivers and
torrents, and that motor-lorries, even if they could be landed
at all, would remain immobilized on that inhospitable shore. Their
dispatch was countermanded. In due course also the Grand Hotel
was evacuated and the staff moved on to Corfu.
Many instances have been quoted to me of energy and money wasted
on projects not dissimilar to that of transporting motor-lorries
to Albania which might have been avoided by consulting people
with some knowledge of the country, if not by the simple process
of asking a policeman. In the year following the close of the
war I saw at Kantara, where the trains for Palestine crossed the
Suez Canal, a miniature tower of Babel composed entirely of filled
sandbags. These, I was seriously informed by the commandant, had
been sent out from England for the defence of the Canal ready
filled, and it appeared, he added, that the selection of the best
sand for the purpose had received due attention from those responsible
for their dispatch. To convey sand to the desert is a proverbial
foreign equivalent for taking coals to Newcastle. That the feat
should have been undertaken over many hundreds of miles and at
a time when shipping was very scarce, seems almost unbelievable.
But the commandant at Kantara deprecated any suggestion that he
was indulging his sense of humour.
And yet one more instance. At the end of the war---it was I
think actually after the Italian armistice---a young staff officer
called at the Embassy in Rome and informed us that he had been
sent by the Council at Versailles to report on all the locomotives
and rolling-stock in Italy, how it was distributed and precisely
how many pieces were in repairing shops. How, he enquired, could
he obtain this information? He was told that though confidential
it could no doubt be supplied by the Director-General of the Railway
Department, to whom he could be given an introduction. Having
been sent to Rome he presumably spoke Italian. No, he replied,
he did not, but his wife knew a little French. Under the circumstances
the only course appeared to be to tell him to see the monuments
of Rome while we did our best for him. It was a good deal to ask
an overworked department to prepare a report involving innumerable
telegrams. But through the kindness of Commendatore de Corné
a table with every detail was in three or four days prepared for
him. When it was handed to him he appeared surprised that it should
be in Italian. Could he not have it in English? So he was advised
to go and look at some more monuments while we had it translated
at the Embassy. In due course he carried it off in triumph, and
was, I hope, commended for his zeal and industry. His journey
and residence must, however, have entailed considerable expenditure,
and, if anyone really wanted the information, which I greatly
doubt, it could have been obtained as expeditiously and more economically
by applying directly to the Embassy..
The last letter which I received from Kitchener, dated the
18th January, 1916, concerned the Serbian Army. He was anxious
that as many men as possible should be transferred without unnecessary
delay from Corfu to Salonika, where they might replace British
or French troops. An advance from there he still regarded as impracticable.
But Salonika would have to be held, and he hoped that the Serbians
would play an important part in maintaining the lines. By the
middle of February the rescue and removal of the Serbian Army
was completed, and the French General Mondésir began his
successful work of re-organization.
On the morning of the 13th of January, I heard a familiar voice
asking for me, and I was surprised to see my old friend Lord Montagu
of Beaulieu with some recent sears on his head, dressed in a suit
of clothes which had certainly not been made for him. He was one
of the survivors from the Persia, torpedoed without warning
between Egypt and Malta, which sank in four or five minutes. It
was the luncheon hour when she was struck. Four boats got away,
but he was left on board. He had on his life-saving waistcoat,
and swam to a disabled boat with broken bows which was floating
upside down but eventually righted itself. Some forty people reached
the boat, but they dropped off one by one, and when night fell
there were only twenty-three left. He sat on the gunwale with
seas washing over him, while the night went slowly by. The next
day some ships were sighted in the distance, but the boat, almost
flush with the water, failed to attract their attention. When
the sun went down again, only eleven were left alive, and inevitably
he gave up hope. But at about 9 o'clock in the evening a steamer
passed near enough for the crew to hear their shouting. They were
hauled on board, and carried to Malta, where Montagu read in the
papers the notice of his death. He was covered with cuts and bruises
from collisions with floating wreckage, and by the time he reached
Rome, some of these looked in a rather unhealthy condition. They
were roughly dressed at the Embassy. But I could not induce him
to stay and take care of himself, and he went on by the night
train to Paris. There are not many men of fifty who could surmount
the ordeal of thirty-three hours in the water without food in
the month of January. But then he had, and has as no other that
I know, the physique and temperament of eternal youth. Another
friend of old days, Bean St. Aubyn, who was travelling with despatches,
was lost in the Persia.
The King of Italy had come to Rome for a brief holiday. I found
His Majesty in excellent spirits and enthusiastic about his soldiers,
with whom he was in daily contact. As to the eventual result of
the war, his faith was unshakable. The Central Empires might achieve
successes here or there, but they now knew that the great issue
could only have one end. We had been speaking of my son's fortunate
escape from a bursting shell, and the King told me that a few
days earlier his motorcar had had to stop on the road for a moment
because the horse of a soldier in front was restive, and they
might have run into him. While they were like Balaam cursing the
horse for delaying them, a big shell landed just at the spot they
would have reached if they had not been held up.
My audience took place at the Villa Savoia outside the city
on the Via Salaria, for the Quirinal Palace, with the exception
of the apartment occupied by the Duke of Genoa as Regent, was
being converted into a hospital where difficult surgical cases
were treated. During the next years, the Queen, who has exceptional
competence in all such matters, devoted herself entirely to service
in the wards. An old friend, Arthur Stanley, who directed the
combined organization of the British Red Cross and the Order of
St. John of Jerusalem, was always most helpful in furthering any
schemes for the relief of the wounded in Italy. A pretty little
episode which was probably known to comparatively few people was
the dispatch from England of a large consignment of hospital stores
as a Christmas present to the Queen of Italy.
A little later the friendly co-operation of the British Red
Cross was systematized by the appointment of a permanent mission
under Lord Monson, which kept touch with the Italian Red Cross
to which its royal patroness, the Duchess of Aosta, devoted all
her energies. We were also directly concerned with the institution
of a Blue Cross section for Italy which was placed in charge of
Count Scheibler, the well-known owner and breeder of race-horses.
The British Blue Cross, represented so far as I was concerned
by Lady Smith-Dorrien, was most helpful in counsels and generous
in kind. Scheibler and his colleagues had their obstacles to overcome
in founding a new institution, but they were able to show a very
good record of horses saved and returned to the army. I was amused
by the plea which was occasionally raised by those who were indisposed
to contribute, against the use of the emblem of the cross in a
service instituted for the care of animals. They elected to ignore
that the cross was a symbol for the protection of the good Christians
who devoted themselves to this work.
In February M. Briand paid a visit to Rome, and his tactful
attitude in discussing current issues eliminated any apprehensions
of that tendency to friction which is so often apparent between
the Latin neighbours. One of the immediate results was that Sonnino
overcame his reluctance to attend in person a coming conference
at Paris. Earnest efforts were also made to facilitate coal freights
to Italy, which were a source of continual pre-occupation. I remember
a grim moment when the central station at Rome had only sufficient
in store to carry on the reduced train service for another twenty-four
hours, and another when Naples was deprived of gas altogether
until the arrival of the next transport.
The shortage in indispensable material was probably felt in
Italy earlier than in any other of the Allied countries. The last
coal I had an opportunity of purchasing was offered at about £12
a ton. Under the circumstances it became impossible to light the
furnace for central heating, and we were reduced to wood fires.
Even wood became very costly. The quality of the bread also soon
began to degenerate, and as transport became progressively more
restricted, we found it difficult to assimilate the unattractive
compound of flour substitutes. Sugar was very scarce, and butter
almost unobtainable. On the rare occasions, three in all, when
I crossed the frontier into France during the war, a striking
contrast was noticeable. Bread tickets were indeed introduced
there after a certain date, but the quality of the bread did not
seem to have deteriorated, and the butter and the lump sugar at
the frontier station were welcome as unfamiliar luxuries. Time
has not extinguished a grateful memory of little parcels of butter
from France or delicacies from London which made doubly welcome
the visits of my friend Sir John Ward who travelled as a messenger
on the route to Taranto and beyond.
On the eve of the meeting of the Allied conference in Paris
we were in danger of a ministerial crisis, not due this time to
the activity of the anti-war party, but rather to the dissatisfaction
of certain groups in Parliament which pressed for more drastic
action and especially for a more clearly defined attitude towards
Germany. In these movements the most conspicuous figure was the
Reformed Socialist Bissolati, a man of transparent honesty with
strong convictions and conspicuous courage in upholding them.
Bissolati, like the poet of Tarentum, might indeed have claimed
that his name of Leonidas had suffered no discredit by his having
borne it. In his struggling youth, moved by strong resentment
at the misery of the working population, he had acquired notoriety
as an agitator. In the serener atmosphere of middle age, with
greater experience of the difficulty of adjusting the human equation,
he had become almost a Conservative among Socialists. Not long
before the war the King had pressed him to enter the Ministry,
but he did not at that time feel able to accept. He was an ardent
Alpinist, a poet when the spirit moved him, and a very lovable
man. Profoundly stirred by the origins of the war, he had consistently
urged the intervention of Italy, and when her time came, he had
himself, though past military age, rejoined the Alpine division,
refusing promotion above the rank of sergeant. When invalided
after a severe wound, he became once more active in the political
world, and he was before long to be included in the Cabinet.
There had at the same time been a growing discontent with the
handling of the munitions question. Italy had from the first been
deficient in heavy artillery. After her disabling loss of guns
in the later phases of the war, the situation was largely saved
by the patriotic spirit which had animated the great firm of Ansaldo,
under the direction of the Perroni brothers who, anticipating
an insufficiency of war material for the eventuality of a long
war, had continued to produce on a scale far beyond the demands
of the military authorities.
The crisis was surmounted to my great satisfaction, because
I had reason to know that if Salandra had resigned, Sonnino would
not then have remained in office. Though he assured me that this
would entail no change of policy and need cause no anxiety, the
retirement of the man who was generally regarded as having made
the war, and his substitution by an untried minister would have
had a disconcerting effect on the Allies.