My Life

My Life - Oswald MosleyMussolini, as is well known, received his guests in an enormous room at the PalazzoVenezia, and I never saw him anywhere else. On my entry he would rise behind hislarge writing-table at the other end of the room and give the fascist salute, which Ireturned; he would then come round the desk and advance some way to meet me—halting before the last few paces and throwing back his head in his characteristicgesture as he extended his hand—thus sparing his guest some of the long and solitarymarch to the chair in front of the table. Some people apparently found this ritualembarrassing, possibly because they were caught by the dilemma whether to returnthe salute, bow or just stare; there have been various accounts of these interviews,some of them quite entertaining. We used to talk in French, which he spoke well, andconversation was always easy until one fatal day when he announced with pride onmy arrival that he had learnt English; after that I understood little he said. Apparentlyhe had lessons from some old English governess, and I shall have the sympathy of mycompatriots who have experienced conversation with an Italian who speaks Englishreally badly.Our talks ranged widely over politics and certain spheres of literature; he was erudite,particularly in the background of such authors as Nietzsche and Sorel. He expressedthe warmest regard for the English people, his desire to work in peace and harmonywith them, and his deep sympathy for our movement. I liked him, and found him easyto get on with. This was not always the experience of his colleagues, as I learnt onarriving in Rome at the time of the murder of Dollfuss. Mussolini was thencontemplating war with Germany after the arrival in power of the National SocialistParty, which he held responsible for these events in Austria; they were supportingtheir own party in that German country, while Mussolini favoured ChancellorDollfuss and Prince Stahremberg, who was running a local fascist movement. When Iarrived, Mussolini was in such a rage that none of his associates dared approach himon the subject, and some of them suggested that in my interview I should try to coolhim off. I made the attempt, and he took it very well; at first a hard stare of theglittering eyes, and then a most reasonable and realistic discussion. They were right inthinking that he would accept more from the outsider. This incident was an interestingcommentary on the alleged fascist international, which was non-existent to a degreethat even threatened world peace. It is true that these two leaders at a later stage camecloser together; the antipathy of the Western world to both may have been a morepotent influence than their mutual attraction.Some of Mussolini's closest colleagues also told me that in ordinary life they foundhim awkward, stilted, cold and unapproachable. An extreme instance of this was aninvitation to one of them—after the performance of some conspicuous service—tohave dinner with him at a villa on the sea where he no doubt desired to express hisappreciation. After desultory conversation during dinner, he played the violin to hisguest throughout the evening without any reference to the major subject; apparentlythis was his only means of expressing the warmth of his feelings to an old colleague.In any social contact he seemed very inhibited; whether through a natural shyness orreluctance to abandon even for a moment the dignity of the leader it is difficult to say.My own impression of him was different; the flash of the large dark eyes when he wasexcited could be surprising, but the posture vanished directly you knew him well. Itseemed to me that he assumed it deliberately in public, not through vanity or emotionbut with a cold purpose of producing a certain impression. He was speaking to Italians,300 of 424