View source for CHAPTER V: ROME, 1908-1910

We found London greatly excited over the disclosures of the
German Emperor published in the <I>Daily Telegraph. </I>Their
substance had already long before been made known to me by the
actual receiver of the Emperor's confidence, and I was only concerned
to know why they should have been published at that particular
moment, and still more how they had escaped the censorship of
the Wilhelmstrasse, where the officials to whom they must have
been submitted had either omitted to read the notes or had failed
to realize the effect they would produce in Germany. Public opinion
in that country was roused to fever pitch, and not least by the
admission that the majority of Germans were anti-British, a confession
which was the more resented because it was true. This climax of
indiscretion, after a series of not very discreet speeches, made
it inevitable that Ministerial responsibility and the constitutional
limits of the Sovereign's liberty of action should be discussed
with an absence of reserve unusual in Berlin. The controversy
only subsided after the Chancellor, Prince von B&uuml;low, had
announced in Parliament that the Emperor would in future impose
more reserve on himself. The official reference to an interview,
which must have been far from pleasant, was, however, rather cryptic
and ambiguous.

<br><br>Our departure for Rome was delayed by the illness of my predecessor,
and we did not arrive there till the middle of December. My first
duty, the day after my arrival, was to attend a funeral service
for the Russian Ambassador, Mouraviev, who had died suddenly of
heart failure while paying a visit in an hotel. On the 26th I
was received by the King, who made me feel that he regarded me
as an old friend, and from that moment treated me with the confidence
which such a relation connotes. Giolitti had then been Prime Minister
since 1903. It was his third premiership, and he had achieved
a sort of dictatorial position as the arbiter of Italian political
life. But the Chamber was approaching the term of its normal existence,
and it was in fact dissolved some three months later. The position
of Tittoni as Foreign Minister was not a comfortable one, inasmuch
as Italy had been no submissive supporter of the Balkan policy
of her Austrian ally, and his belief that he had turned the occasion
to good account by securing the concession of an Italian university
at Trieste was about to receive a very cold douche by the substitution
of an offer to found an Italian faculty of jurisprudence in the
University of Vienna. Since the <I>rapprochement </I>with France
which Prinetti and Barr&egrave;re had brought about in 1902 there
had been a progressive diminution of cordiality towards the dual
monarchy, and Italy had for some time been conscious that she
had in a moment of difficulty contracted an unsympathetic marriage
of interest. For her there was no law of divorce, but every successive
plea for a restitution of conjugal rights became more repugnant
to her. There was, however, no prospect of an early change in
her political orientation. Her north-eastern neighbour was far
too powerful. But it was already then fairly obvious that if she
could ever convince herself that the western and northern powers
were sufficiently strong to hold the central empires in check,
she would not be displeased to free herself from bonds which had
become unwelcome. The umbrage which her attitude towards the Bosnian
annexation had occasioned made some high-handed action on the
part of the Vienna Government not altogether improbable. Four
Dreadnoughts to reinforce the Pola fleet were to be constructed.
Hitherto there had been no battleships of this calibre in the
Mediterranean, and Italians had no illusions about the significance
of a naval programme which they would have to outbid.

<br><br>We had hardly settled down in the Embassy at Rome when the
appalling earthquake in the Straits of Messina took place. It
devastated an extensive and populous area. But no shock was felt
so far north as Rome. Owing to the interruption of all communications
little accurate information reached us during the two days following
the catastrophe. Then each successive message only served to intensify
the magnitude of the disaster. Some two-thirds of the population
of Messina was buried under the ruins, and at Reggio, on the opposite
side of the Strait, the mortality was not much lower. Nearly all
the troops in garrison at Messina were killed by the collapse
of their barracks. The English chaplain and all his family perished.
Our Vice-Consul and his child, though severely injured, were among
the survivors, but his wife and their governess lost their lives.
A sort of tidal wave raised by the earthquake invaded the ruins
nearest the quays, and farther inshore fires broke out.

<br><br>It appears that the majority of the inhabitants of Messina
were in the habit of going to bed in a state of complete nudity,
and as the earthquake began at a very early hour, while they were
still asleep, those who escaped from the crumbling houses, many
of them bruised and bleeding, ran naked into the streets. This
added a macabre touch to the horror of the scene. They were too
stunned or bewildered to be able to render much assistance to
their less fortunate fellow-citizens imprisoned in the wreckage.

<br><br>The Steam Navigation Company's vessel <I>Stork</I> had just
entered the harbour, and Captain Carter with his crew of twenty-five
were among the first to throw themselves into the work of rescue
and earn the gratitude of the stricken townsmen. The King of Italy,
who always leads the way on the path of duty, opened the first
subscription list with a munificent donation of approximately
&pound;50,000, and at once proceeded to the spot, accompanied
by the Queen, who worked day and night in the hospital ships which
hastened to Messina. The terrible condition of the injured rescued
from the ruins who were brought on board was, the Queen told me
afterwards, very trying to the nerves, but she added, &quot;one
does somehow what one has to do.&quot; A little episode which
was told me by one of the Court ladies impressed me. An unfortunate
old woman crushed beyond recovery and evidently dying, was carried
in. Her only thought was for a priest to shrive her, and no priest
could be found. Her pitiful cries disturbed the other patients,
and the Queen came to her and took her hand and said in a quiet
voice : &quot;I am the Queen of Italy, and I tell you that you
need have no fear.&quot; Thus reassured she ceased to cry, and
not long after died in peace.

<br><br>Our military attach&eacute;, Colonel Delm&eacute; Radcliffe,
was among the first to reach Messina and offer assistance. The
Mediterranean fleet from Malta, conveying supplies which the British
Government liberally offered, and a completely equipped field
hospital, arrived with the least possible delay. The crews were
landed to co-operate in rescuing survivors penned in the basements,
a duty which continual subsequent collapses of masonry rendered
very dangerous. They behaved as always, with rare devotion and
resource, and it was gratifying to receive as I did letters from
many parts of Italy expressing appreciation of their splendid
service. A Russian squadron also entered the Straits and landed
willing workers. There was thus a friendly naval rivalry in well-doing.
Many remarkable cases were recorded of persons immured in vaults
and passages, blocked by the fall of upper stories, who were liberated
alive after almost a week's confinement.

<br><br>The Italian people gave largely and generously, and offerings
from every country in the world revealed the solidarity of the
human race in the hour of disaster. The Lord Mayor at once opened
a fund at the Mansion House, which met with a magnificent response.
The Dominions and Colonies organized funds of their own, as did
some of the greater cities at home. After food, the most urgent
need in the stricken area was for clothing and boots. Delm&eacute;
Radcliffe, confident that funds would be available, had telegraphed
wholesale orders for blankets and shoes to Naples. But a single
city was hardly able to supply the demand. My wife instituted
work-rooms in the Embassy, and there assembled all the British
ladies in Rome to cut out and make up clothing. Hundreds of suits
were completed and dispatched with remarkable promptitude.

<br><br>The Lord Mayor was good enough to entrust me with the appropriation
of the Mansion House Fund, which eventually grew to upwards of
&pound;160,000. In the first weeks of emergency some &pound;65,000
were passed on to the central Italian Relief Committee. Later
we decided to co-operate by direct action. A British Committee
was constituted in Rome to assist me, and local Committees were
organized in Sicily and Calabria. The Military attach&eacute;
acted as intermediary and controlling agent. Lord Granby, who
had just joined the Embassy as an honorary attach&eacute;, and
Ralph Bingham, our nephew, who happened to be staying with us,
went to Calabria and established a camp and depot on the shore.
The Piedmontese and Milanese Relief Expeditions, which were most
capably administered, kept constant touch with our Committees
and agents, and we were very glad to avail ourselves of the devoted
services of officers of the Salvation Army who had thrown themselves
into the work of rescue. The latter made it their special duty
to carry supplies into remoter mountain centres which were in
danger of being overlooked in the vastness of the catastrophe.

<br><br>We ordered a number of wooden houses in England, and, after
the first urgent demands for food and clothing had been met, concentrated
our efforts on reconstruction. With the cooperation of the local
authorities and the energetic arch-priest we rebuilt the Calabrian
village of San Giovanni, where not a house had remained standing.
The work was carried out systematically with due regard to sanitation
on concrete foundations round a central garden area. At Messina
also we constructed for the survivors among the British colony
a number of comfortable wooden houses which were still in occupation
when I visited the spot some fifteen years afterwards. One of
the first to be completed was assigned to Mr. Beyliss Heynes,
formerly Lloyd's agent, who had shown himself so capable at a
moment when most people had lost their heads that I appointed
him Vice-Consul within a few days of the earthquake, trusting
that the Foreign Secretary would confirm my action, which he did
not fail to do.

<br><br>The work which the administration of the Mansion House fund
entailed was all in the nature of &quot;overtime,&quot; for the
political situation which had developed after the Austrian annexation
of Bosnia and Herzegovina became full of anxiety during the early
weeks of 1909, when we seemed to alternate between hopes of compromise
and imminence of war. Aehrenthal at Vienna stuck to his guns with
no little tenacity, but a compromise was eventually found which
Turkey could accept. He agreed to pay what was really an indemnity,
though to save face it was disguised as compensation for taking
over the vacoufs or religious foundations in the annexed provinces,
and also to withdraw the Austro-Hungarian garrisons from the Sandjak
of Novi Bazar. This was a concession of which Serbia had reason
to appreciate the value some years later in the Balkan War. The
opposition of Turkey to the independence of Bulgaria was eliminated
when Isvolsky intervened and undertook the responsibility for
compensation. By so doing he appeared to have re-established the
position of Russia as a factor in the Balkans.

<br><br>The Austro-Serbian issue, however, which had really become
an Austro-Russian issue, and the duel between Aehrenthal and Isvolsky
continued to preoccupy diplomacy. For us no material interest
was involved, but we had with France supported Russia in opposing
a unilateral repudiation of international agreements. Isvolsky's
position was really a weak one, if it was true, as I was assured,
that he had, in the hope of settling the Dardanelles question,
given pledges to Austria which he affected to consider were no
longer binding when such a settlement had proved to be impracticable.
As March advanced the attitude both of Vienna and Petersburg became
less bellicose. It was rumoured and denied, but confirmed to me
from a source to which I attached credence, that the veteran Francis
Joseph had in a personal letter appealed to the generous sentiments
of the Tsar, reminding him how Austria might have taken advantage
of the difficult situation created in Russia by the insuccess
of the Japanese War, but had refrained from doing, so. At this
moment, whether in order to acquire merit by an inexpensive display
of solidarity with her ally, or to diminish the prospect of a
triumph for Aehrenthal, who was almost as much disliked in Berlin
as in Petersburg, Germany intervened and aggressively announced
that unless Russia agreed to the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina,
Germany would leave Austria-Hungary free to act against Serbia.
Isvolsky at once capitulated and consented to the abrogation of
Article 25 of the Treaty of Berlin without consulting Great Britain
or France, whose support he had regarded as rather platonic. The
success thus appeared to be B&uuml;low's and not Aehrenthal's.
We on the other hand had no reason or disposition to yield to
threats, and maintained our position until Serbia had recognized
the annexation and agreed thenceforth to live on terms of good
neighbourship with Austria-Hungary.

<br><br>Whether the reasons suggested above were really responsible
for the sudden collapse of Russian opposition, whether Russia
had deceived herself with the hope that the united opinion of
the other powers would be too strong for Aehrenthal, or whether,
as was also suggested, the intervention of Germany was not unwelcome
to Isvolsky I had no means of deciding. In any case he loyally
accepted the responsibility. But the humiliation inflicted on
Russia was a bitter blow. If circumstances made her submission
at that time inevitable, the resentment which it aroused should
have offered a sufficient warning that the procedure could not
be repeated with impunity. The crisis of 1909 therefore offers
illuminating evidence of how deliberate was the action of the
Central Empires in 1914.

<br><br>In the beginning of April the Keats-Shelley Memorial House
in the Piazza di Spagna, now definitely acquired by British and
American co-operation, was formally opened by the King of Italy.
Sir Harold Boulton, who had organized the English Committee, came
to Rome for the occasion with Arthur Severn and Shelley's grandson,
Mr. Esdaile. By a happy coincidence Rudyard Kipling was also present.
Nelson Gay, whose perseverance and devotion to the cause had overcome
all obstacles to the purchase of the house, represented the American
Committee, and all of these, with the exception of Kipling from
whom we could not extract a speech, as well as myself, addressed
the meeting. Ferdinando Martini, speaking on behalf of Italian
men of letters, revealed to us the beauty of his own Tuscan language
in the mouth of a master. Severn deposited in the Memorial for
perpetual preservation all the relies which he had inherited,
recalling his father's friendship with Keats. The American sculptor
Ezekiel presented a bust of Shelley and a copy of the first edition
of the Revolt of Islam. A telegram from King Edward, announcing
his interest in the Memorial, was read, and the King of Italy
then declared it open. The little ceremony was all that the lovers
of the two poets would have wished it to be. I count myself happy
to have been directly concerned with the acquisition of this house
of memory, now visited every year by hundreds of pilgrims from
all the English-speaking lands, in which all who enter the precincts
grow conscious of a haunting <I>genius loci. </I>I commend it
to my countrymen, and earnestly trust that when I am there no
more a younger generation will watch over its maintenance with
not less loving care.

<br><br>We had established some order in the Embassy house by the opening
of spring, and a number of guests had just arrived to stay with
us when I received an unexpected summons to join the royal yacht
at Genoa and accompany King Edward on his Mediterranean tour in
the place of a Minister in attendance. I found on board, in addition
to the Queen and Princess Victoria, the dowager Empress of Russia,
who was to see Italy for the first time, and was in high spirits
at escaping from a ceremonious Court to the happy atmosphere which
King Edward took pleasure in creating. There were no other guests
beyond the members of the household in attendance. We steamed
directly from Genoa to Porto Empedocle in Sicily, and spent the
following day in an expedition to the golden temples of Girgenti.

<br><br>Meanwhile, in Constantinople there had been an unsuccessful
attempt at counter-revolution, and a new massacre of Armenians
at Adana. Troops from Macedonia were reported to be marching on
the capital to support the young Turks, and before our cruise
was ended Abdul Hamid had been removed to Salonika and replaced
by Rechad Effendi as Mohammed V. In consequence of these events
the Mediterranean fleet was ordered to Lemnos before we could
arrive in Malta.

<br><br>Circumstances had on a number of occasions brought me into
close personal as well as official relations with King Edward,
both before and after his accession to the throne; but I had never
before had the same opportunity for long and intimate discussions
of public affairs with him as during the daily intercourse of
a voyage which extended over a fortnight. I was much impressed
by the methodical manner in which he dealt with the papers which
followed us in the rapid <I>Aboukir. </I>The King was not a late
sleeper, and he would read through each instalment of telegrams
and dispatches before breakfast, marking various passages which
he talked over with me in the course of the morning. His interest
in all foreign questions had always been very keen, and he had
a statesman's grasp of the general European situation. There has
perhaps been a disposition, especially abroad, to over-colour
the part which he is represented as having played in foreign affairs,
and to attribute to him an initiative which was hardly justified.
On the other hand, I have also noticed a tendency on the part
of some politicians at home to assign less value than was due
to his judgments, and to question the quickness of his apprehension.
The views of political leaders may even in foreign issues be to
some extent affected by considerations of which they have to take
account at home. King Edward, with an extensive knowledge of the
Continent, which tended to eliminate prejudice, and an exceptionally
good memory, which had registered appreciations derived from personal
contact with prominent men in every country over nearly half a
century, seemed to me to take a synthetic view, and to look beyond
the immediate moment. Perhaps in his relations with his advisers
much may have depended on the manner in which questions were submitted
to him. My own experience revealed him as a very tolerant listener
to views which might not accord with those he had formed himself.
There was nothing in reason which could not discussed with him
provided the matter was approached sympathetically. He read little
beside official papers; but he had a remarkable power of picking
other people's brains, and he thus obtained vicariously a mass
of interesting and valuable information which a retentive memory
assimilated. I remember my surprise at finding how well posted
the King was in all recent archaeological research after a morning
spent with Professor Solinas of Palermo.

<br><br>In the course of my diplomatic career I have been in relations
with a number of ruling sovereigns. King Edward was the only one
amongst them who gave me the impression of really enjoying kingship.
That may have been one of the reasons which made him an ideal
constitutional sovereign. He did not originate; as a constitutional
king he could hardly do so. But when a policy had been determined
by his advisers he was the most efficient of collaborators for
putting it into practice. He took pleasure in giving pleasure,
and the charm of his manner, his genial smile, and his knowledge
of the world were invaluable assets. A naturally kindly nature
made him alien to any assumption of ascendancy, but his manner
suggested a conscious obligation of dignity which would not tolerate
any liberty.

<br><br>In one of my many conversations with Prince B&uuml;low, who
had a large experience of the world, he told me that he regarded
King Edward as the completest instance of perfect accomplishment
in a constitutional sovereign. In widening the circle of his acquaintance
without exclusiveness he showed singular wisdom. By cultivating
the society of members of that community who maintain among their
own elect a sort of wireless correspondence bureau which keeps
them in touch with internal developments in every country, he
managed to be one of the best-informed men in his kingdom. That
was the real secret of a relation for which foolish people tried
to account by preposterous stories. B&uuml;low added that he had
himself, before he left office, endeavoured to convince people
that a man worth several million marks was a more important factor
in the empire than a mere lieutenant. It had been uphill work
there. But King Edward knew very well how valuable such acquaintances
were to him.

<br><br>The German Emperor was at this time in Corfu, and he had announced
his intention of paying a visit to Malta. It seemed not impossible
that the orbits of the royal yachts might intersect. The King,
though far from anxious to be involved in any inopportune discussions
with his nephew, could do no less than inform him of the programme
of his cruise. The Emperor, however, was expecting visitors at
Corfu, and would not go to sea until we had left southern waters.
I was not a little relieved to find any possibility of such a
meeting eliminated.

<br><br>After a very interesting day at Girgenti with Professor Solinas
and San Giuliano, then Ambassador in London, who came over from
his home in Catania, we left Porto Empedocle before daybreak on
the 21st of April, and reached Valetta punctually at eleven o'clock.
The Duke of Connaught, who was then High Commissioner in the Mediterranean,
occupied the Palace. It was unfortunate that the Fleet should
have been absent. Four days were spent at Malta in a constant
round of ceremonial dinners and lunches, and on the 25th we proceeded
to Catania, arriving in the afternoon. The quays and every open
space beyond were black with dense crowds. San Giuliano, who was
there to meet us, had provided motor-cars, anticipating that the
King would wish to visit the city. Seeing the masses which had
assembled I was a little preoccupied. The Queen, moreover, was
very anxious that the King, who was not yet very strong, should
remain on board and begged me to use my influence to postpone
a landing. But he would not hear of it.

<br><br>The people had come to welcome him, and he would not disappoint
them. So densely packed were the spectators, with an entire absence
of any police control, that the cars which were open could only
proceed at a foot's pace. Agents in plain clothes stood on the
foot-boards, and the crowd as it close in behind us held on to
the hood of the motor. The King and San Giuliano were in the first
car, and I sat opposite His Majesty and hardly took my eyes off
him. The friendly Sicilians only wanted to show their enthusiasm.
But the presence of fanatics or anarchists is always a possibility
in such an assembly, and I confess to having felt not a little
anxious till we were safely back in the <I>Victoria and AIbert
</I>after what was really a triumphal progress which gratified
the King.

<br><br>San Giuliano had organized an expedition round Etna for the
following day. There has been a long tradition of goodwill towards
the British people in Sicily, and the part we had recently taken
in their misfortune had gone to their hearts. The sovereigns were
therefore the objects of an enthusiastic welcome in every village
where our train stopped, and the carriages were laden with flowers
and fruit. We returned to tea in the San Giuliano palace. The
next day we steamed through the Straits to Palermo, passing close
enough to Messina to realize the awful havoc of the earthquake.
We were much impressed with the consideration and good taste shown
by the Palermitans, who left the royal visitors perfectly free
to enjoy themselves, saluting them with friendly greetings but
never crowding or obstructing their liberty of movement.

<br><br>From Palermo we went north through the night to Baia in the
Gulf of Pozzuoli, where the King and Queen of Italy, accompanied
by the Duke and Duchess of Aosta, were awaiting us in the <I>Re
Umberto. </I>The Duke was then in military command at Naples.
After lunch on board the battleship we drove from Baia up steep
and winding roads to the mountain monastery of Camaldoli, which
overlooks one of the most magnificent panoramas in the world,
the Gulf of Naples, the islands, and the coastal ranges to the
north. In the evening there was a banquet on board the <I>Victoria
and Albert. </I>The meeting of the sovereigns was not intended
to be a ceremonial one, and Baia had been deliberately selected
to mark its intimate character. But it offered an opportunity
for a renewal of personal associations and friendly exchanges
of view. Tittoni, as Minister for Foreign Affairs, was present,
and had a long conversation with King Edward, who was then regarded
in friendly countries as the leader of political opinion in Europe.
The Italian sovereigns returned the same night to Rome, while
we proceeded to Naples and anchored in the roadstead off Santa
Lucia. My wife and Lady Violet Manners, who was staying with us,
came to Naples, and brought with them my eldest boy to say good-bye
before he returned to Eton after the Easter holidays, nearly all
of which I had missed. The King was kind enough to invite him
to luncheon and my wife and Lady Violet dined on board, where
Neapolitan singers and dancers entertained us. After a few days
at Naples the King returned overland, and I accompanied him as
far as Rome.

<br><br>It was the custom in those days at the Italian capital, as
at most of the Courts of the great powers, that a new Ambassador
should soon after his arrival hold an official reception at which
the social world was formally presented to him by a royal master
of the ceremonies. For various reasons it had been necessary to
postpone our reception till May. Such functions were generally
of a rather tedious character; but my wife, who has a genius for
entertaining, conceived the idea of making the occasion attractive
at a moment when the glory of the Roman spring offered a special
opportunity.

<br><br>The beautiful garden at Porta Pia, bounded by the towers of
Aurelian's wall, was illuminated with fairy lamps, and small supper
tables under umbrella tents were dispersed over the lawns. The
dark ilex avenues were hung with Chinese lanterns, and from the
Embassy roof a searchlight lit up the more distant group of pines.
The scent of flowers was in the mild air, and the first fireflies
were abroad in the shadowy corners. After the introductions in
the ball-room we invited our guests to descend to supper under
the stars. There had not been wanting prophets of evil who foretold
that the Romans would never be induced to issue into a garden
after nightfall; but the Prime Minister led the way and the whole
company followed. The temperature of the late spring night was
perfect and, instead of a tedious ceremony of obligation which
they had anticipated, our guests were delighted at the surprise
party among the lanterns. This official reception remained a memorable
occasion also from the fact that it was the last which was to
take place in Rome. Two of the senior Ambassadors who were old
friends had explained to me that it would be superfluous for them
to go through the form of presentation to a colleague whom they
had known for many years. They accordingly decided amongst themselves
that the Ambassadors would not be present. As junior Ambassador
I could only bow to the decision. All the Legations, however,
came in full numbers. The Court, whose traditional duty it had
been to conduct these functions, adopted the view that if the
Ambassadors remained absent, there was no reason why the King's
representatives should attend. The result was that these receptions
were abolished.

<br><br>This was in my opinion to be regretted, not only because in
Italy a tendency to suppress ceremonial and tradition which serves
a certain purpose has been carried too far, but also because it
was extremely useful for a newly-appointed representative to have
an opportunity of making once and for all the acquaintance of
the whole social world as well as of deputies, senators and officials,
and being ever after able to dispense with individual introductions.

<br><br>The recollection of such gatherings naturally recalls many
conspicuous figures which have passed away, and among them old
Count Greppi, then still relatively young at ninety, always the
first to arrive at any social entertainment in Rome, immaculately
dressed with a carnation in his buttonhole. He had begun life
as a page to the Emperor of Austria, when Lombardy was still ruled
from Vienna, and he ended his career at the Italian Embassy in
that capital. When he completed his 100th year, I wrote my congratulations,
and received from him a long letter in reply perfectly written
and charmingly expressed. Even after his centenary his singular
vitality carried him through an attack of pneumonia, and he reached
the phenomenal age of 103. When some diplomatist asked him whether
he still went to mass on Sunday mornings he was reported to have
answered in the negative, adding, &quot;<I>Je suis tr&egrave;s
vieux. Je crois que le bon Dieu m'a oubli&eacute;. Il vaut mieux
ne pas me rappeler &agrave; son souvenir.&quot;</I>

<br><br>A few days after the reception I was taken ill with high fever
and what threatened to be typhoid. Fortunately, my temperature
was due to the agency of some less virulent microbe. But ten days
in bed was an experience not encountered since the bad days of
malaria in East Africa some fifteen years earlier. To my regret
it entailed missing nearly the whole of a visit from the Meyers,
our kind hosts in Washington. As soon as I was convalescent we
moved to Porto Fino, which nestles like a dream-haven of romance
in its sheltered bay under the Ligurian Mountains south of Genoa.
Lady Carnarvon had most kindly placed at our disposal for the
summer her villa on the ridge which joins a peninsula of vine
and olive to the mainland. Aubrey Herbert had spent much of his
youth there, and I like to think that the suggestive character
of Porto Fino and its neighbour, the solitary San Fruttuoso with
the Doria tombs, had shaped his early thoughts to adventure.

<br><br>I have always taken pleasure in picking up local legends during
my travels, and there I learned a delightful story which is told
to account for the antagonism which still exists between Porto
Fino and the neighbouring Santa Margherita, not two miles away.

<br><br>During one of the crusades the little port had equipped a vessel
for the holy war. According to the habit of navigators in those
days, it shaped its course to the east in constant sight of land.
Some time before it reached the port of destination, whether Tripoli
or Acre or Jaffa, all the provisions on board had been exhausted,
and the crew were in dire straits. Then the friar who accompanied
them had a vision. The vessel was to approach the shore, and they
were to land near a solitary tree. Digging beneath its roots they
would find a bone of the ox which had been in the stall at Bethlehem
on the night of the nativity. From this miraculous bone they would
be able to derive a supply of soup which would never fail until
they came home from their adventurous voyage. And so indeed it
proved. Therefore after their return from the Holy Land it was
carried from the ship with due solemnity and rejoicing to be deposited
in the church. But a dog from Santa Margherita found its way into
the precincts and carried off the bone ; and therefore the descendants
of those pious warriors cherish an undying resentment against
the town which harboured that sacrilegious hound.

<br><br>After a peaceful month, broken for me only by occasional visits
to Rome, the situation in Crete once more became critical. It
was generally believed that the German Emperor, whose sister was
destined one day to become Queen of Greece, had not discouraged
its revival in conversations with the veteran Minister Theotokis
at Corfu. Italy, at that time pronouncedly Philhellene, was generally
in agreement with ourselves. We were both prepared to welcome
a solution of the troublesome problem by the annexation of the
island to Greece, but neither was disposed to exercise any pressure
upon Turkey to accept it. The Cretans had hoisted the Greek flag,
and though Greece could not be held directly responsible, the
Young Turks seemed determined to force a quarrel on her and to
invade Thessaly. Our difficulties at Constantinople were increased
by our being only able to deal with a puppet Government which
was really controlled by the Committee of Union and Progress.
The great powers, however, dispatched ships to Crete, where the
situation became still more complicated when an executive committee,
formed after the resignation of the provisional Government, took
an oath of allegiance to the King of Greece. Some satisfaction
was, however, given to Turkey. The offending flag at the entrance
to the port of Canea was removed by seamen from the ships without
encountering any resistance on the part of the Cretans: while
a Turkish flag, the last remaining evidence of suzerainty, continued
to fly on an island in Suda Bay.

<br><br>After this very provisional settlement on a basis of bunting
we paid a pleasant visit to Count Pasolini, the gifted author
of <I>Catherine Sforza, </I>at Montericco near Imola. With him
we revisited Theodoric's capital, where he also owned an interesting
house. We made a first acquaintance with the little mountain republic
of San Marino, and studied the art of a school of painters little
seen outside the Adriatic towns, whose patrons were the petty
tyrants of Romagna. It is strange how, after the lapse of more
than four centuries, that country still bears the impress of the
tremendous personality of Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta. The story
of Rimini and the neighbouring towns is an epitome of the Renaissance
where high artistic and literary sensibility was compatible with
incredible turpitude and cruelty. There are few more interesting
monuments of that period in Italy than the library founded by
Novello Malatesta at Cesena. It resembles a church, divided by
columns into three aisles, with big pews of chestnut wood, each
of which has chained to the bookrest some half-dozen huge volumes
of manuscript.

<br><br>The autumn after our return to the capital was uneventful.

<br><br>The execution in October of the Spanish revolutionary Ferrer
evoked a general sense of protest in all countries, which in Italy
assumed an anti-clerical form. The chambers of labour discussed
extravagant demands for a rupture of diplomatic relations, for
the expulsion of the Spanish cardinals from Rome, and for a change
of the name of the <I>Piazza di Spagna </I>in the centre of the
city to <I>Piazza Ferrer. </I>A brief strike with the closing
of shops and the temporary suspension of newspapers, borne with
equanimity by those who had to read nearly a dozen daily, were
the only concrete results.

<br><br>Of my colleagues in Rome at this period the French Ambassador,
Barr&egrave;re, was an old friend who had already been <I>doyen
</I>of the diplomatic corps when I was counsellor in Rome. The
Austro-Hungarian Ambassador, Count Henry Lutzow, had also been
my colleague in younger days. He was unfortunately soon withdrawn
from the country to which he was really attached, and to which
he had shown constant goodwill. The embassy in Palazzo Chigi which
the Lutzows with their great hospitality had succeeded in making
socially popular was then filled by a bachelor, M. de Merey, a
Hungarian who was essentially a bureaucrat and not very conciliatory
in temperament. This was another symptom of the widening of the
rift between Italy and Austria which seemed to have become increasingly
perceptible ever after the visit of the Tsar to King Victor Emmanuel
at Racconigi in 1907 before my return to Italy. It was probably
surmised, if not actually known, at Vienna that on that occasion
agreement was reached on certain Eastern questions. Russia had,
moreover, then undertaken to recognize the predominant rights
of Italy in Tripoli, if and when occasion arose for asserting
them.

<br><br>My Russian colleague, Prince Dolgorouki, owing to a breakdown
in health, only retained his post for a comparatively short time
after our arrival, and was then replaced by another old friend,
Anatole Kroupensky, who had been counsellor at Rome when I occupied
the same position. If we saw little of Dolgorouki, we became well
acquainted with his <I>chef, </I>who after his retirement came
to us for one season. The diamond pin and general magnificence
of the latter duly impressed me. I had not known when we engaged
him that he was the <I>doyen </I>of the faculty of cooks, and
that therefore not only did his dignity require an unusual number
of assistants, some of whom were no doubt apprentices articled
to him, but that he, naturally of course, regarded himself as
entitled to a much higher percentage on every article of consumption
than any other culinary artist I have had the honour to patronize.
His daily account, after enumerating a list of items which seemed
to include every herb or tuber produced in or out of season by
the market garden, always ended with an additional entry of at
least nine <I>lire </I>for &quot;rough vegetables&quot;. My wife's
occasional protest at the amount of his daily budget only encountered
on his part a confession of surprise at his own moderation, for
these accounts, he frankly admitted, were as nothing to those
he had presented to Dolgorouki. As an artist, however, it is legitimate
to say of him, &quot;He was a great man, and I have forgotten
all his faults.&quot;

<br><br>The appointment of Herr von Jagow as German Ambassador in succession
to Count Monts was very welcome to us. We had been simultaneously
counsellors of Embassy in Rome, and a community of tastes and
interests had drawn us together. The shadow of the Great War lies
between the present day and a former intimacy which ripened when
we once more became colleagues in 1909. He was always, and as
he believed in his country's interests, a convinced advocate of
a good understanding with ourselves, which indeed I think most
of the high civilian authorities in Germany desired, though they
were powerless to promote it under the progressively increasing
ascendancy of the military party, which perceived in us an obstacle
to the realization of their ambitions.

<br><br>I have been very conscious of the difficulty which confronts
me at this point owing to a delicacy which it is impossible not
to feel in referring to conversations with Jagow which took place
in a period of cordiality and goodwill. The same applies to my
intercourse with Prince B&uuml;low who, after his resignation
of the chancellorship, spent every winter up to the European crisis
in Rome. I should hate to be disloyal even to the memory of a
friendship, but I do not think that I shall have anything to say
which they would resent. On the other hand they might fairly claim
that what they had said to me was meant for myself only, and the
observation would be just. Nevertheless, having set out with the
object of adding the modest contribution of my experience to history,
and of reproducing the political atmosphere as I perceived it
during the period immediately preceding the Great War---but for
which this volume of my recollections might not have been written---I
feel that I cannot in subsequent chapters altogether suppress
every reference to those discussions.

<br><br>During a short expedition to Florence which I made with Jagow
in the autumn, I gathered that he regarded the Morocco policy
as having been a most unfortunate mistake. The impression which
I had received from other quarters was confirmed that it was mainly
due to the fatal influence of Holstein, who was an office man
and not in touch with the world. Bismarck, who had used him to
do uncongenial work, had kept him in his place; but recently he
had acquired an undue ascendancy in the German Foreign Office.
The influence which he succeeded in establishing with B&uuml;low
has always puzzled me. He had it seems a most persuasive and insistent
manner of presenting his case, which he prepared like an expert
in a manner which appeared logically inexpugnable. But the logic
of exposition does not always coincide with logic of circumstance,
and after the disappearance of Bismarck, who never neglected the
importance of what he described as the <I>imponderabilia, </I>German
psychology has been consistent in its readiness to ignore all
that did not agree with its own preconceptions.

<br><br>A short visit to England in November and December was interesting
on account of the tense political situation. It was hardly resolved
by a general election in January 1910,<I> </I>which left the two
great political parties equally balanced and therefore at the
mercy of the Irish on a division. During my absence from Rome
Giolitti, who found a formidable opposition in the Chamber to
his project for a re-organization of the maritime and postal services,
rode for a fall over financial issues. On his resignation Sonnino
formed an administration with his friend Salandra at the Treasury,
and Guicciardini, a descendant of the Florentine historian, at
the Foreign Office. With the change of government, San Giuliano
was transferred to Paris from the Embassy at London, where he
was replaced by the Marchese Imperiali. The latter had joined
his first post abroad only a few days after I did, at Berlin,
in 1884<I> </I>Having begun our careers together we were to end
them as Ambassadors in each other's countries soon after the conclusion
of peace.

<br><br>Sonnino's brief administration became known as the Ministry
of the hundred days. It was formed of the best elements in political
life, of men who did nothing to conciliate the Press, and declined
to bid for the support of deputies by promises of favours. It
could only last as long as it was tolerated by the Giolittian
group, and their anticipated defection led to Sonnino's: resignation
on the 31st of March 1910.<I> </I>Luigi Luzzatti, the eminent
economist, who in co-operation with Sonnino had restored equilibrium
to Italian finance, took his place at the age of sixty-eight.
My venerable friend, profound in his erudition and apostolic in
appearance, enjoyed a popularity which made him the only Italian
Prime Minister of the many I have known who acquired a nickname
of endearment, for he was known among his friends and indeed to
the public in general as Gigione, or big Luigi. He took such genuine
pleasure in having reached the summit of his ambitions as President
of the Council that it vexed me to think that he would only remain
there until such time as Giolitti saw fit to return to office,
for that eminent manipulator of political combinations was now
absolute master of a parliamentary machine which grew less and
less representative of the mass of the Italian people. San Giuliano
was recalled from Paris to the Foreign Office, where he remained
until his death at the end of 1914.

<br><br>The change of Government helped me out of a rather difficult
situation. Owing to a lack of co-ordination between departments
at home a premature publication had placed us in the light of
having lacked consideration towards the Italian Government. But
the new Minister was less interested and exclusively occupied
with taking over his department. San Giuliano was very able and
the best of company. He knew how to say what he meant, though
I should be less sure that he always meant what he said. Indeed,
I sometimes thought he enjoyed putting the credulity of his audience
to the test. If a story which he told me of his accidental identification
of a lost grandfather was authentic, it offers a remarkable example
of coincidence.

<br><br>His grandfather, whose house and estates had been managed during
his youth by a capable and masterful aunt, eventually married
a beautiful young wife to whom he was devoted. The aunt resented
her supersession in the household, and after the birth of his
son began to insinuate specious suggestions of his wife's infidelity.
The hot-blooded marquis in a moment of jealous fury shot his wife
dead, and then disappeared from Sicily for ever. No trace of him
was ever discovered. In due course his son grew up and became
the father of my friend the Minister for Foreign Affairs.

<br><br>San Giuliano himself travelled extensively, and in the course
of his wanderings he was once the guest of the Italian Consul-General
at Tripoli. The latter in response to his request for literature
describing the country furnished him with an old book written
many years earlier by a British Consul-General. He took it to
bed with him, and finding it extremely interesting read on late
into the night. At a certain point the author related how, desiring
to visit a certain oasis far inland, he had asked the Bey if he
could provide him with an escort. The ruler, with whom he was
on excellent terms, readily agreed, and added, &quot; I will do
more than that. I will send my son-in-law Yussuf Effendi with
you. He is popular with all the Bedawin and will see that you
come to no harm.&quot; Yussuf and the Consul-General became good
friends, and as the former spoke Italian, in which the Englishman
was more fluent than in Arabic, they generally used that language.
The Consul had several times expressed his surprise that Yussuf
should speak it with such ease, and at last one day the latter
said he would make a confession. He was not really an Arab by
birth. He was an Italian. He had had to leave his own country
for certain reasons into which he need not enter. He came to Tripoli,
was accepted as a Mussulman, and having rendered good service
to the Bey, had ended by marrying his daughter. There he was Yussuf
Effendi, but his real name was San Giuliano! &quot;My grandfather
evidently!&quot; said the Minister for Foreign Affairs.

<br><br>I had received a telegram from Theodore Roosevelt dispatched
as soon as he reached Cairo at the close of his African voyage,
offering me one of the three evenings which he counted on spending
in Rome. He accordingly dined with us and a very small party which
included Jagow and Boni, the magician of the Forum and the Palatine.
It was evident that Roosevelt thought our policy in Egypt weak,
and feared that the good work accomplished was being imperilled.
He had been asked to deliver an address at the Mansion House,
and he consulted me as to whether I thought he might say without
reserve what he felt. I urged him strongly to do so. He was well
known for his frank habit of plain speaking. Englishmen would
like him all the better for his telling them the truth as he saw
it, and it could only do them good to know it. It was refreshing
to hear him denounce the people he designated as &quot;mushy sentimentalists.&quot;
During his presidency an incident had occurred in Manilla which
had given them their opportunity. An American force had been repulsed
in a first assault on a fort. Rallied by the officers it attacked
again. A number of native women were then seen to be fighting
with the men. The troops could not stop to pick and choose, and
went through with the bayonet. There was an immediate shriek from
the Yellow Press, and excited protests from the sentimental. He
sent forthwith a message of congratulation to the troops informing
Congress that he had done so and was prepared to take all the
responsibility which military action entailed. He cordially approved
my selections for his camp reading, and Gregorovius had been a
great success. This was my last meeting with that very lovable
man.

<br><br>I endeavoured, so far as lay in my power, to identify the Embassy
with literary interests and research work. A small but select
cosmopolitan literary society was founded which met in the Keats-Shelley
house once a fortnight through the winter for lectures and readings
in the various languages which a decently educated person should
understand. At the British Archaeological School I read two papers
which were the result of a careful study of the Renaissance tombs,
altars and monuments in Rome. I was much gratified at being elected
in March 1910 a member of the Academy of St. Luke, the oldest
I believe of all academies, which numbers very few foreign members.

<br><br>My wife had been busy for some weeks organizing a series of
dramatic scenes from classical mythology to be represented in
the Embassy garden early in May. The first episode was to represent
the Judgment of Paris, showing the three goddesses arriving with
their attendants by converging paths through the groves of ilex.
I had been instructed to compose an appropriate dialogue in verse.
An artificial hill with a grotto was constructed of painted canvas
with festooning creepers, and this served as a background to the
picture. Behind it a band of twenty-five performers and the actors
were concealed. The scene opened with the song of OEnone as she
descended from the crest. The second episode represented Proserpine
with her girl companions assembling, gathering flowers and dancing
in the meadow, when from the cavern in the hill there issued my
brother-in-law, Colonel Anstruther, a magnificent Pluto, who carried
away the struggling maiden in his arms. Then followed the Feast
of Flora and the propitiation of the Vernal Goddess at an altar
in the centre of the lawn. There must have been more than thirty
grown-up people and twenty to thirty children in the procession,
which was to wind its way through the pines and ilexes leading
a white ox to the sacrifice and chanting a refrain of &quot;Ave
Flora veris numen.&quot; In the beautiful garden at Porta Pia
it promised to be one of the most effective pageants ever staged,
and the dress rehearsal had been reached without misgiving. It
was actually in process when I received a telegram containing
so serious a report of King Edward's health that I had to decide
at once to suspend the performance which it had taken so many
weeks to prepare.

<br><br>A still graver telegram followed, and to my consternation in
the middle of the night I received the announcement of the King's
death. On the 5th of May, he had, in spite of a menacing attack
of bronchitis, still continued receiving and carrying on his multifarious
duties, and a quarter of an hour before midnight on the 6th he
died.

<br><br>He had reigned for nine years after a long life of waiting,
in which he filled only a second place with so much tact and discretion
that the majority had had little opportunity to appreciate how
admirably qualified he was to rule. But in those nine years he
had become an outstanding factor in Europe. He set the model for
the new kingship. No sovereign was ever in closer or more constant
touch with his people, and every man at home felt as if he knew
his King personally. His death seemed a disaster for his own country
and a loss to all nations, for his knowledge of men and of the
world, his charm and that very kindly winning smile had proved
a solvent to many apparent obstacles. To me it meant the loss
not only of a sovereign but of a friend who had been consistently
gracious and encouraging for more than twenty years.

<hr>

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