FIVE YEARS OF GOVERNMENT
My revolutionary method and the power of the Black Shirts had brought
me to tremendous responsibility of power. My task, as I have pointed
out, was neither simple nor easy; it required large vision, it gathered
to it continually more and more duties.
An existence wholly new began for me. To speak about it makes it
necessary for me to abandon the usual form of autobiographic style; I
must consider the organic whole of my governmental activity. From now
on my life identifies itself almost exclusively with thousands of acts
of government. Individuality disappears. Instead, my person expresses,
I sometimes feel, only measures and acts of concrete character; these
do not concern a single person; they concern the multitudes, they
concern and permeate an entire people. So one’s entire life is lost in
the whole.
Certainly I know that I took the direction of the government when
the central power of the state was sinking to the bottom. We had a
financial situation that Peano of the Liberal party had summarized
with an astounding figure: six billions of deficit! Individually the
people fed on expedients. Progressive inflation and the printing
presses gave to everybody the old illusion of prosperity. It created
an unstable delusion of well-being; it excited a fictitious game of
interests. All this had to be expiated when faced by the severe Fascist
financial policy.
Abroad our political reputation had diminished progressively. We were
judged as a nation without order and discipline, unable either to
prosper or produce. The chronic infection of disorder had withdrawn
from us the sympathies of countries better equipped than we were. Worse
yet, it had increased the haughtiness and the contempt of many of our
enemies.
The Italian school system, in its complex formation, university, middle
and lower schools, had turned its energies into purely abstract,
theoretical functions; it had withdrawn more and more from a real
world, a modern world, and from the fundamental problems of national
life; it had been inert as a guide to civil duties. Schools and pulpits
should always show the way to ascending peoples.
There still lived, in the national mechanism, strange and hateful
regional political formations; these used to bring our solidarity into
question, if not into peril. The activities of the government in terms
of services, improvements and appropriations were guided and affected,
not by real natural necessities, but by the desire to ingratiate this
or that population, or region. The treasury was tapped by this base
policy of politics—electoral strategy.
A bureaucracy already suffering from elephantiasis increased its
distention, generating that spirit of trouble, those characters of
instability, of intolerance, of slight love of duty, which are typical
of all great accumulations of functionaries, especially when the latter
are not well paid, and do not see their moral prestige supported
and built up by the authority of the state and by precise and clear
definition of individual responsibility.
We still had, as a consequence of our generous struggle, the Fascist
squadron formations. They might become, in the new conditions of life,
a danger threatening public order and legality.
The army and the navy lived apart from the great problems of national
life. As a matter of fact, though this is good in many respects, it is
not good when they are set aside in an almost humiliated formation.
Aviation was in disorder. It was difficult to give it new strength. One
must not forget, when considering aviation, that Nitti had forbidden
flight, not only for military planes, but also for private planes. His
command was to demobilize aviation, and to sell the motors as well as
the airplanes. It was a kind of premeditated murder of a nation which
really did not want to be strangled.
In the meantime there assembled in Rome all the arms and legs of
anti-Fascism, in all its gradations. The political parties, at first
dismayed by the revolution of the Black Shirts and my advent to power,
began to revive. They began to find courage to pursue again the
general trend of political parties in the equivocal atmosphere of the
parliamentary corridors at Montecitorio. The Italian press was,
for the greater part, tied to old groups and to old political customers.
It was necessary to reorganize all civil life, without forgetting the
basic need of a supervisory force. It was necessary to give order
to political economy, to the schools, to our military strength. It
was necessary to abolish double functions, to reduce bureaucracy, to
improve public services. It was necessary to check the corrosion and
erosion of criticism by the remnants of the old political parties. I
had to fight external attacks. I had to refine and improve Fascism. I
had to divide and floor the enemies. I saw the vision that I must in
every respect work to improve and to give tone to all the manners and
customs of Italian political life.
It was also imperative not to neglect the ten millions of Italians
emigrated beyond the frontiers. We had to give faith again to the zones
on our borders. We had to assist in bringing modern improvements and
stimuli to the life of the southern regions, and to get in touch with
all the men of the healthy and strong provinces, wherever they were.
Infinite then were the problems and the worries. I had to decide
everything, and I had a will firm enough to summon up all the political
postulates that I had enunciated and sustained with pen and paper, in
meetings and in my parliamentary speeches. This was not only a problem
of strength to last, to endure, to stand erect in any wind, but also,
above all, a problem of will.
I abandoned everything that kept me tied to the fortunes of my
newspapers; I parted from everything that could have the slightest
personal character. I devoted myself wholly, completely, exclusively,
to the work of reconstruction.
To-day there is no change. I want to be a simple, devoted servant
of the state; chief of a party, but, first, worthy head of a strong
government. I abandoned without regret all the superfluous comforts of
life. I made an exception only of sports which, while making my body
alert and ready, succeed in creating healthy and happy intervals in my
complex life of work. In these six years—with the exception of official
dinners—I have never passed the threshold of an aristocrat’s salon, or
of a cafe. I have also almost entirely abandoned the theatre, which
once took away from me useful hours of evening work.
I love all sports; I drive a motor car with confidence; I have done
tours at great speed, amazing not only to my friends, but also to old
and experienced drivers. I love the airplane; I have flown countless
times.
Even when I was kept busy by the cares of power, I needed only a few
lessons to obtain a pilot’s license. I once fell from a height of fifty
metres, but that did not stop my flying. Motors give me a new and
great sensation of strength. A horseback ride on a magnificent sorrel
is also for me a joyous interruption, and fencing, to which I devote
myself, often with remarkable physical benefit, gives me the greatest
satisfaction. I ask of my violin nothing more than serene hours of
music. Of the great poets, such as Dante, of the supreme philosophers,
such as Plato, I often ask hours of poetry, hours of meditation.
[Illustration:
Mussolini walking along the seashore, May 1, 1928.
From a photograph presented to Mr. Richard Washburn Child.
]
No other amusement interests me. I do not drink, I do not smoke,
and I am not interested in cards or games. I pity those who lose time,
money, and sometimes all of life itself in the frenzy of games.
As for the love of the table; I don’t appreciate it. I do not feel it.
Especially in these last years my meals are as frugal as those of a
pauper. In every hour of my life, it is the spiritual element which
leads me on. Money has no lure for me. The only things at which I aim
are those which identify themselves with the greatest objects of life
and civilization, with the highest interests, and the real and deep
aspirations of my country. I am sure of my strength and my faith; for
that reason I do not indulge in any concession or any compromise. I
leave, without a look over my shoulder, my foes and those who cannot
overtake me. I leave them with their political dreams. I leave them to
their strength for oratorical and demagogic exertion.
Italy needed what? An avenger! Her political and spiritual resurrection
needed a worthy interpreter. It was necessary to cauterize the virulent
wounds, to have strength, and to be able to go against the current. It
was necessary to eliminate evils which threatened to become chronic.
It was necessary to curb political dissolution. I had to bring to the
blood stream of national life a new, serene and powerful lymph of the
Italian people.
Voting was reduced to a childish game; it had already humiliated the
nation for entire decades. It had created a perilous structure far
below the heights of the duties of any new Italy. I faced numberless
enemies. I created new ones—I had few illusions about that! The
struggle, in my opinion, had to have a final character: it had to be
fought as a whole over the most diverse fields of action.
To express this character of completeness of the whole struggle, I must
be able to set it forth in a clear, evident way; it is necessary for
me to set forth in subdivisions the different fields in which action
was demanded of me and out of which evolved the most significant facts
of my governmental life. Deeds and actions, more than any useless
subjective expressions, write my true autobiography—from 1922 till 1927.
I never had any interval of uncertainty; fortunately, I never knew
those discouragements or those exaltations which often are harmful
to the effectiveness of a statesman. I understood that not only my
prestige was at stake, but the prestige, the very name of the country
which I love more than myself, more than anything else.
I was anxious to improve, refine and co-ordinate the character of
the Italians. Let me state what my domestic policies have been,
what was charted and what was achieved. From petty discords and
quarrels of holiday and Sunday frequency, from many-colored political
partisanships, from peasant strifes, from bloody struggles, from the
insincerity and duplicity of the press; from parliamentary battles
and maneuvres, from the vicissitudes of representative lobbies, from
hateful and useless debates and snarling talk, we finally climbed up
to the plane of a unified nation, to a powerful harmony—dominated,
inspired and spiritualised by Fascism. That is not my judgment, but
that of the world.
After my speech of November 16th, 1922, in the chamber of
deputies, I obtained approval for my declaration by 306 votes against
116. I asked and without difficulty obtained full powers.
I issued a decree of amnesty which created an atmosphere of peace. I
had to solve the problem of our armed Fascist squadrons. I always have
had great influence with my soldiers and with the action squads, which
in every part of Italy had given proof of their valor, their gallantry,
and their passionate faith. But now that Fascism had reached power,
these formations were, in such a situation, no longer desirable.
On the other hand, I could not suddenly wipe out or simply direct
toward the fields of sport these groups of men who had for me a deep,
blind, and absolute devotion. In their instinct, in their vibrant
conviction, they were led not only by strength and courage, but by
a sense of political virtue. And as the perils had not entirely
disappeared, it was imperative to guard the citadel of the Black
Shirt’s triumph. I decided then to create a Voluntary Militia for
National Security and Defence. Of course its duties had to be well
defined. It must be commanded by seasoned veterans and chiefs who,
after having fought the war, had known and experienced the struggles of
the Fascist resurrection.
I proclaimed that with Fascism at the wheel everything illegal and
disorderly must disappear. The decision to transform the squads of
action to Voluntary Militia for National Security undoubtedly was one
of political wisdom; it conferred on the régime not only authority, but
also a great reserve strength.
The organization of the Grand Council, a body exquisitely
political, was one of my major aims after my coming to power. I faced
the necessity of creating a political organization typically Fascist,
one which would be outside and above the various old political
mechanisms dominating and misruling our national life. Every day I
needed clear answers to questions arising—I needed a body of reference.
In all my complex work as chief of the government, I could not forget
that I was also chief of the party that for three years had fought in
the squares and streets of Italy—not merely to gain power, but above
all to meet the supreme task and the supreme necessity of infusing a
new spirit into the nation.
The Grand Council had to be the propelling element of Fascism, with
the hard and delicate task of preparing and transforming into legal
enactments the work of the Fascist revolution. There were no—and there
are none now—heterogeneous elements in the Grand Council, but virile
Fascists, ministers, representatives of our deepest currents of public
opinion, men of expert knowledge and of interests. The Grand Council
has always succeeded. I preside over it, and let me add, as a detail,
that all the motions and the official reports which have appeared in
the papers in concise form, have been written by my hand. They are the
product of long meditations in which Italian life and the position of
Italy in the world have been examined and dissected by the Fascist
soul, spirit and faith. The Grand Council, which to-day I want framed
in the legislative institutions of the régime, has rendered in its
first five years a magnificent, unparallelled service.
One of the problems which presented itself first of all was that of
the unification of the police forces. We had the ordinary police, with
the different branches of political and judiciary police; the Royal
Carabinieri, and, finally, the body of the Royal Guards. This last
institution, created by Nitti, was made up of demobilized elements
and was a useless organization finding its place somewhere between
the carabinieri and the usual forces of public security. I decided
immediately to suppress the Royal Guards. That suppression in the
main was not attended by unfortunate incidents. In some cities, such
as Torino and Milano, there were riots and attempts at resistance.
I gave severe orders. I called into my office or telephoned to the
chiefs responsible for certain local situations. I ordered them to
fire, if necessary. In six hours everything was calm again. The instant
dissolving of an armed body of forty thousand men cost only four dead
and some tens of wounded. The officers were incorporated into other
organizations, or took up activities according to their own wishes; the
privates reached their districts and homes without further trouble.
Our Italian form of political Masonry, which at first had seemed to
have adjusted itself to the new conditions, submitting to the advent
of Fascism to power, now began a stupid and deceitful warfare against
me and against Fascism. In a meeting of the Grand Council I proclaimed
the impossibility for Fascisti of membership at the same time in
Masonry. As a leader of the ranks of socialism I had already pursued
the same anti-Masonic policy. We must not forget that this shady
institution with its secret nature has always had in Italy a character
typical of the briber and blackmailer. It has nothing of protection,
humanitarianism, benevolence. Every one, even those who were benefited,
are convinced that Italian Masonry has been nothing more than a society
for mutual aid and for reciprocal adulation of its members. Every one
knows that it has diffused in every way a worship of self-interest, and
methods of privilege and intrigue, neglecting and despising rights and
prerogatives of intelligence and morality. My struggle against Masonry
was bitter; I carry the tangible signs of it still, but it constitutes
for me, for my sincerity, and my probity, one of the most precious
titles of merit.
In 1923, after negotiations carried on with unwavering constancy,
I united Italian Nationalism with Fascism. For a certain time an
identical vision had been shared by these two organizations about
everything concerning the ends and aims of our national life. Political
developments, however, had led them along separate paths. Now that
victory had been concluded and the better elements of Nationalism
were already collaborating with the new régime, the unification was
more than a wise move; it was also an act of political sincerity.
Black Shirt and Blue Shirt—the latter was the uniform of the
Nationalists—united in a perfect accord of chivalry and political
loyalty. This new and deep unity permitted us to enjoy the
prospect of more favorable auspices for a new future, one worthy of
that great Italy which had been prophesied, desired and finally created
by Nationalism and Fascism.
In April, 1923, in Turin, there assembled the national congress of
the “Popular Party.” It was a verbose and academic meeting, not very
different from the other political congresses that for decades had
hypnotized Italian public life. They naturally discussed the policies
of the Fascist régime for a long while and, after various divergencies
of opinion, the majority of those assembled voted in favor of a
middle-ground position with an anti-Fascist leaning.
Among the members of my ministry there were some of the “Popular
Party”; they found themselves, after the meeting, in a difficult and
delicate situation. I naturally put before them the problem of giving
thought to their opportunity of staying in the Fascist government in
the new state of things created by the attitude of their party. There
were some explanations. Differing opinions alternated, but, in order to
initiate that process of political clarification that I had foreseen
as inevitable, I advised the members of the government of the Popular
party to give up their places so that they could avoid dissensions
between their parliamentary group and the Fascist party.
This process of clarification I had foreseen as soon as I went into
power. The climate and altitude of Fascism was not adapted to all minds
of that time. There were still many dissenters. Many people fed on the
illusory hope that they would be able to influence and bend the
methodical and straight courses laid out by Fascism. For this purpose,
I was approached by those who were skilled in twistings, turnings and
slidings. Naturally, they always found me as resistant as flint.
In 1923, for the first time, our Labor Day passed without incident;
the people worked calmly, without regretting that old date which now
in Italy had lost every meaning. Later on I wanted to get in touch
with the public opinion of Italy and to measure how deep Fascism had
penetrated the masses. First I went to Milan and to Romagna. Afterward
I went to Venice, Padua, Vicenza, Sicily and Sardinia; finally I
journeyed to Piacenza and Florence. I found everywhere warm, vibrant
enthusiasm, not only among my lieutenants and the Black Shirts, but
also among all of the Italian people. That people finally was sensing
that it had a government and a leader.
The Black Shirts, the makers of the revolution, hailed me as a leader
with the same changeless enthusiasm they had shown when I was only
the chief of the party and when I was developing that programme of
journalistic attack which had added so much to my popularity. The
Italian temperament at times is much more adapted to faction than to
action. But now my old comrades were just as near to me in their daily
tasks and their regimental discipline. Their attitude not only made me
proud but moved me deeply. I could not ignore this warm youth so full
of ardor, and I was quite decided not to sacrifice it to compromises
with an old world which was destined to disappear. The population
felt that it had recovered a real liberty; they had experienced
liberation from the continuous blackmail of parties which deluded the
masses. They blessed my political work. And I was happy.
It was in this period that the campaign of the opposition opened again.
Not being able to beat me on the field of conciliation and compromise,
the opposing elements, led by the _Corriere della Sera_, began a series
of depressing prophecies and calamity howling. They launched deceitful
attacks and spun their polemic webs. I put into effect, however, a new
electoral law, because I did not want to fall into the pitfalls of our
old proportional representative system. I had alienated the “Populars,”
the Democrats, and some of the Liberals. The reforming of the school,
about which I will have more to say, had invited some hostilities.
Meanwhile, we had anti-Fascist assaults and ambushes. This was a
stormy year. It must be regarded as a period of settling and one
of difficulty. I had to guard Fascism from internal crises, often
provoked by intrigue and trickery. I succeeded in this by being always
inexorably opposed to those who thought they could create disturbances
and frictions in the party itself. Fascism is a unit; it cannot have
varying tendencies and trends, as it cannot have two leaders on any
one level of organization. There is a hierarchy; the foundation is the
Black Shirts and on the summit is the Chief, who is only one.
That is one of the first sources of my strength; all the dissolutions
of our political parties were always born not from ideal motives
but from personal ambitions, from false preconceptions or from
corruption, or from mysterious, oblique and hidden forces which I could
always identify as the work of our Italian Masonry. I took account
of all this. I resolved not to yield a hairbreadth. When the more
urgent legislative problems had been settled by parliament I decided
to dissolve the chamber, and after having obtained extension of full
powers, I announced elections for April 6th, 1924.
This signal for elections was sufficient to calm political agitations
of dubious character. All the parties began their stock-taking and the
revision of their forces. All got ready to muster the greatest number
of votes and to send to the chamber the greatest possible number of
representatives.
An election may be considered a childish play, in which the most
important part is played by the elected. The “Honorables,” to be able
to become so, do not overlook any sort of contortion, of demagogy and
compromise. Fascism did not want to submit to the usual forms of that
silly farce. We decided to create a large National list on which places
had to be found not only for known, tried and faithful custodians and
trustees of Fascism, but also for those who in the active national
life had been able to uphold the dignity of their country. Fascism by
this policy gave full proof of great political wisdom and probity. It
even tolerated men of opposing or doubtful position because they could
serve. In the National list were included ex-presidents of the Council,
such as Orlando, and of the Chamber, such as De Nicola; but the
main body of the list was made up of new elements. It was, in fact,
composed of two hundred veterans, ten gold medals, one hundred and
fourteen silver medals, ninety-eight bronze medals, eighty mutilated
and war invalids, thirty-four volunteers. The majority of the list was
drawn from the aristocracy of the war and the victory.
The Socialists, divided from the Communists, sharpened their weapons,
and so did the Populars. But from the ballot boxes of April 6th there
flowed a full, irrevocable, decisive victory for the National list. It
obtained five million votes against the two millions represented by all
the other lists put together. My policy and our régime was supported by
the people. I then could be indulgent toward our adversaries, instead
of pressing them harder, as I might have done.
I directed that political battle staying in Milan. I attached no great
importance to the results of the electoral struggle, but it interested
me as an expression of the support and the enthusiasm which, in every
Italian city, had already been given to the National Fascist list. This
indorsement by the people encouraged my thesis and my governmental
work. Having gone back to Rome I was received as a returning victor,
and, from the balcony of the Palazzo Chigi, while I saluted the people
and the city of Rome, I congratulated the new and greater Italy, in
which men of good faith were all in harmony.
This was my synthesis: Let Parties die and the Country be saved.
On May 24th, with unusual solemnity, came the opening of
the Twenty-seventh Legislature. His Majesty the King made a very
impressive speech. The hall had the appearance of a great occasion.
For petty political reasons, the elements which denied the country and
belittled Italian life determined to stay away. The inauguration of
the Twenty-seventh Legislature, however, did not lose anything in its
fulness and moral value. Particularly well received were the veterans,
some of whom were very much decorated. Now there stirred, in that old
chamber, so used to mean and petty political intrigues, a breath of
new life; there was present a heroic sense of the new soul of Italy, a
sense of a living aspiration for greatness.
All these things irritated the Socialists. In their hearts they had
hated the war, had debased our victory. The old parliamentary world
could not adjust itself to this magnificent gathering of youth. The
congenital cowardliness of Montecitorio, the seat of parliament, would
certainly refuse homage to the bravery symbolized by these golden
medals!
The deep dissension between the new and the old Italy was revived
again at Montecitorio. This dissension persisted in the atmosphere of
parliament even after it had been beaten and overcome by Fascism in
the squares and streets of Italy and in the hearts of the nation. In
the historic meeting of May 24th, 1924, that sad antipathy was to have
its epilogue. Not by mere chance had I chosen the precise date of our
entrance into the war.
After some days the usual parliamentary discussions began. The
seating of new deputies roused violent diatribes. The Socialists,
who were absent from the ceremony of May 24th, had again taken up
their posts of combat. The atmosphere was red-hot. I knew that it
would be necessary to give a different tone to all our political
life, especially to parliamentary life—there was no use my cherishing
illusions about that. With very great patience I succeeded in appeasing
the first tumultuous meetings. Nothing proved more effective in
elevating the plane of the discussion than a speech delivered on June
6th by the blind veteran, Carlo Delcroix. On June 7th I answered all
the opponents exhaustively. I denounced their maneuvres. I remember
that I admonished every one in the name of Fascist martyrdom and in the
name of the peace of souls, to attend solely to productive activities.
I added: “We feel that we represent the Italian people and we declare
that we have the right to scatter to the winds the ashes of your spites
and of our spites, so that we may feed with powerful lymph, in the
course of years and centuries, the venerable and intangible body of the
country.”
I felt the necessity of making in parliament a high appeal for calm,
for a sense of balance and justice. I was animated by a deep and
sincere desire for peace. But the success of my words was apparent
only; in the ardors of the parliamentary political struggle scenes
unworthy of any assembly took place.
The Socialists had been hit in their most sensitive spots; they had
been slammed against reality. They were outnumbered, amazed by
the rush of Italian youth, dismayed by the new direction events were
taking. All the new political realism was in full antagonism to their
leanings; they were beaten and they felt it. In such a situation, the
Socialists wanted as a last resort to squeeze out some way of avoiding
surrender, at least, in parliament.
Skillful and astute in every political art, they protracted without
end all the annoyances they could devise. It was a game played with
the deliberate aim to destroy and tear down. In this subtle work of
exasperation, Matteotti, the deputy, distinguished himself above all
others. He was a Socialist from the province of Rovigo, whose arrogant
spirit held tenaciously to the principle of political dissolution.
As a Socialist he hated war. In this attitude he reached a degree of
absurdity even beyond that attained by any other Socialist. In the
tragic period after the defeat at Caporetto, he had set himself against
our Venetian refugees. Matteotti denied shelter to those unhappy people
who fled from the lands then invaded by the enemy and in which the
Austrians were committing every sort of violence. He said that they
ought to remain under Austrian domination!
To this parliamentary battle of polemics he now brought his whole bag
of tricks and devices. Being a millionaire, he considered socialism as
a mere parliamentary formula. It is to be remembered, however, that he
was an ardent fighter, well able to irritate his adversaries in the
whirlwind of the struggle, but he was far from being able seriously to
imperil the assembly and to silence such a party as the Fascist.
Matteotti was not a leader. In that same Socialist party there were
individuals who surpassed him in powers of debate, in talent, and in
coherence. In his electoral districts he had had violent fights with
the Fascists, and in the chamber he had at once revealed himself as a
most zealous and pugnacious opponent.
One day Matteotti disappeared from Rome. Immediately it was whispered
about that a political crime had been committed. The Socialists were
looking for a martyr who might be of use for purposes of oratory,
and at once, before anything definite could possibly be known, they
accused Fascism. By my orders, we began a most painstaking and complete
investigation. The government was determined to act with the greatest
energy, not only for the sake of justice, but also to stop, from the
very first moment, the spread of any kind of calumny. I threw the
Prefect and Police Chief of Rome, the Secretary of the Interior, Finzi,
and the Chief of the Press Office, Cesare Rossi, into the task of
clearing up the mystery. Activity on the part of the police for the
discovery of the guilty persons was ordered without stint. Very soon
it was possible to identify the guilty. They were of high station.
They came from the Fascist group, but they were completely outside our
responsible elements.
The sternest proceedings were instituted against them without limit or
reservation. Severe measures were taken—so severe indeed that in some
cases they proved to be excessive.
The suspects were arrested at once. Among the responsible
elements, those who had had relations with the guilty ones, merely
because they were under suspicion retired, though innocent, from public
life. No threat of restraint was laid on the authorities, the police
and the courts.
All this should have stilled the storm.
On the contrary. This dramatic episode was destined to disturb the
austere serenity that I had imposed on myself and on every one, in
the general policy of the country. Though we were still living in
an atmosphere incandescent with passion, with polemics and violent
battles, it seemed hardly possible that only a few days after the
opening of the Twenty-seventh Legislature, a group of men of position
could carry through an enterprise which, begun as a jest, was to
conclude in a tragedy. I always have had harsh and severe words for
what happened. But despite the faithful and energetic behavior of the
central government, there now burst out an unparalleled offensive
against Fascism and against its leader. The opposition in the chamber
gave the first signal of an attack in grand style. I perceived and
foresaw immediately the ignoble game, which grew, not from any love for
the poor victim, but solely from hate for Fascism. I was not surprised.
In the chamber, when weak men already were hesitating, I said:
“If it is a question of lamenting, if it is a question of condemning,
if it is a question of regretting the victim, if it is a question of
pressing our prosecution of all the guilty and those responsible, we
here repeat that this will be done calmly and inexorably. But
if from this very sad happening some one seeks to draw an argument
for anything but a wider reconciliation of all men on the basis of an
accepted and recognised need of national concord—if any one should
try to stage upon this tragedy a show of selfish political character
for the purpose of attacking the government, it must be known that
the government will defend itself at any cost. The government, with
undisturbed conscience, sure of having already fulfilled its duty and
willing to do it in the future, will adopt the necessary means to crush
a trick which, instead of leading to the harmony of Italians, would
trouble them with the deepest dissensions and passions.”
These words did not penetrate minds already hardened. And there
happened exactly what I had foreseen; the opposition threw themselves
on the corpse of Matteotti in order to poison the political life of
Italy and to cast calumnies on Fascism both in Italy and abroad.
The course of Italian public life from June till December, 1924,
offered a spectacle absolutely unparalleled in the political struggle
of any other country. It was a mark of shame and infamy which would
dishonor any political group. The press, the meetings, the subversive
and anti-Fascist parties of every sort, the false intellectuals,
the defeated candidates, the soft-brained cowards, the rabble, the
parasites, threw themselves like ravens on the corpse. The arrest of
the guilty was not enough. The discovery of the corpse and the sworn
statement of surgeons that death had not been due to a crime but
had been produced by trauma was not enough.
Instead, the discovery of the corpse in a hedge near Rome, called the
Quartarella, unstopped an orgiastic research into the details which is
remembered by us under the ignominious name of “Quartarellismo.”
Fortunes were built on the Matteotti tragedy; they speculated on
portraits, on medals, on commemorative dates, on electric signs; a
subscription was opened by subversive newspapers and even now the
accounts are still open.
The opposition parties and their representatives in the chamber
retired from Montecitorio and threatened not to participate further in
legislative work; to this movement and to those who espoused it was
given, by false analogy with the well-known event of Roman history,
the name of Aventino. But the Aventino group was here reduced to a
grotesque parody, in which hate and nakedness of power now reunited men
of the most diverse political complexions. They ranged all the way from
Socialists to Liberals, from Democrat-Masons to Populars, who pretended
to be called Catholics. Clandestine meetings were held. They abused in
every way the liberty of the press and of assembly, in order to destroy
Italian life. Fanatical elements waited hour after hour for Fascism
to be overthrown. In the background of this ignoble dramatic farce,
there stood out the figure of senator Albertini, the happy owner of the
newspaper. This man was willing to scrape in the garbage, to listen to
all the dirty rogues, to collect the most mendacious pamphlets,
trying somehow, sometime, somewhere, to hit at me and at Fascism.
I did not have a moment of doubt or discouragement. I knew the
attitudes, postures and poses of these adversaries. I knew that if they
could they would have ignobly used the corpse of the Socialist deputy
as an anti-Fascist symbol and flag. But their ghoulish politics passed
the bounds of my imagination. Besides these speculators, there were
those on the timid and flabby fringes of Fascism. They let themselves
be led astray by the political atmosphere. They did not perceive that
an episode is not the stuff of which history should be made. In the
name of a sentimental morality, they were willing to kill a great moral
and political probity and knife the welfare of an entire nation.
In this situation there were also many repentant Magdalenes, and many,
impelled by the sad habit of many Italians to consider as pure gold the
acts and the work of any opposition, hid their Fascist insignia and,
trembling, abandoned the Fascist nation, already grown red-hot from a
thousand attacks and counter-attacks of its adversaries.
We were going back into the depths of a revolutionary period, with
all the excesses of such an abnormal time, all its spites, troubles,
and explosions. An atmosphere was formed in which many magistrates,
often under Masonic influence, could certainly not give equitable and
faultless judgments. Various parties beyond the borders were giving
help to the Socialists at home. It was then clear to what extent
anti-Fascism was still abroad in certain international zones where
Democracy, Socialism and Liberalism had consolidated their weight of
patronage, blackmail and parasitism.
All this might have created for a moment, in certain political
atmospheres, the illusion that the government had weakened. In
December, 1924, at the end of that painful three months, some were
calculating the days of life of our ministry. A great hope sprang up in
the hearts of the politically hungry. There was, in fact, a miserable
maneuvre on the part of the three former presidents of the council;
they were able to delude themselves and others. But these professional
political men have so little practical sense that they could not
understand that with one breath I could have given an order to the
Black Shirts which would have overturned once and for all their fancies
and their dreams.
The swelled frogs waited for their triumph. The corrupt press gave the
maximum of publicity to the calumnies, to incitation to commit crimes
and to spread defamation. The Crown, supreme element of equilibrium,
was violently menaced with blackmail and worse. As ever, there were
adventurers who were eager to speculate on any turn in the tide of
events in order to create again for themselves a political rebirth.
This base and pernicious crew I, for my part, have always eliminated
from the sphere of activity and position controlled by me.
As if all this were not enough, in that dark December of 1924, to
complete the picture, Cesare Rossi, the former chief of the press
office, tried a rascally trick. This man, cast out from Fascism
because he was implicated in the Matteotti affair, prepared a
memorial which was a tissue of lies and libels. He aimed to involve
the régime in guilt, and consequently to involve me. Everything that
had happened or was happening in Italy he endeavored to put on my
doorstep. This memorial, written by such a man, pretended to present
a “moral indictment” of me. But in that field I cannot be attacked;
every attempt of this sort is empty. I was informed beforehand of
the plot that Rossi was going to attempt; I knew the contents of his
memorial and the day on which it was to be printed in the papers of the
opposition. I put an end to the miserable maneuvre. I published the
memorial in a friendly paper; in this way I indicated that I gave no
value to it. It was a jest and a delusion. The theatrical stroke fell
on emptiness; the bubble swelled by slanders flattened like a pricked
balloon.
The contemptible game lasted six months. The half-hearted had sunk
beneath the surface; the singers of the doleful tunes felt their
throats becoming parched. The speculators were now disgusted with
themselves. In that period a former minister, decorated with the
Collare dell’Annunziata, the highest order of Italy’s sovereign,
alligned himself with the cult of Republicanism and with the worst
elements of the Socialists!
I held the Fascist party firmly in my hand during this period. I curbed
the impulses of some Fascists who wanted violent reprisals with a
clear order: “Hands in the pockets! I am the only one that must have
his hands free.” In Florence and Bologna, however, there occurred
episodes of extreme violence. I understood then that it was time to
speak and act.
In all that time I credit myself with the fact that I never lost
my calm nor my sense of balance and justice. Because of the serene
judgment that I endeavor to summon to guide my every act, I ordered
the guilty to be arrested. I wanted justice to follow its unwavering
course. Now I had fulfilled my task and my duty as a just man. Now
against my adversaries I could play my own game—in the open.
When the menace of a general strike in the Province of Rome arose, I
ordered the Florentine legions of the Militia to parade in the streets
of the Capital. The armed Militia with its war songs is a great agent
of persuasion. It is an argument. In September, 1924, I had visited
the most intense zones of the Tuscan Fascism; I went among the strong
populations of the Amiata, among the workers and peasants, among the
miners of the province of Siena. On that occasion, while opponents
hourly awaited my fall—and that was also the secret hope of many
enemies beyond the borders—I delivered to the Fascists an audacious
sentence in which I sounded an affirmation of strength and victory:
Of our adversaries, I said, “we will make a litter for the Black
Shirts.”
The opposition press made a great fuss about these words; but their
chattering had no importance. That became clear on January 3rd,
1925. On that day, when Rome was already full of the exiled from the
provinces and of those who tremblingly awaited the conclusion
of the political struggle, I made in parliament this speech, which
certainly was not lacking in reserve:
Gentlemen,
The speech I am going to make before you might not be classed as a
parliamentary speech. It may be possible that, at the end, some of you
will find that this speech is tied, even though a space of time has
elapsed, to the one I pronounced in this same hall on November 16th.
Such a speech can lead somewhere, but it cannot lead to a political
vote. In any case let it be known that I am not looking for this vote.
I do not want it; I have had plenty. Article 47 of the Statute says:
“The Chamber of the Deputies has the right to accuse the Ministers
of the King and to bring them to face the High Court of Justice.” I
formally ask if in this Chamber, or outside it, there is any one who
wants to make use of Article 47. My speech will then be very clear;
it will bring about an absolute clarification. You can understand
this. After having marched for a long time with comrades to whom our
gratitude always will go out for what they have done, it is good sense
to stop to consider whether the same route, with the same companions,
could be followed in the future.
Gentlemen, I am the one who brings forth in this hall the accusations
against me.
It has been said that I would have founded a “Cheka.”
Where? When? In what way? Nobody is able to say. Russia has executed
without trial from one hundred and fifty thousand to one hundred and
sixty thousand people, as shown by statistics almost official. There
has been a Cheka in Russia which has exercised terror systematically
over all the middle classes and over the individual members of those
classes, a Cheka which said it was the red sword of revolution. But an
Italian Cheka never has had a shadow of existence.
Nobody has ever denied that I am possessed of these three
qualities; a discreet intelligence, a lot of courage and an utter
contempt for the lure of money.
If I had founded a Cheka I would have done it following the lines of
reasoning that I have always used in defending one kind of violence
that can never be eliminated from history.
I have always said—and those who have always followed me in these
five years of hard struggle can now remember it—that violence, to
be useful in settling anything, must be surgical, intelligent and
chivalrous. Now, all the exploits of any so-called Cheka have always
been unintelligent, passionate and stupid.
Can you really think that I could order—on the day following the
anniversary of Christ’s birth when all saintly spirits are hovering
near—can you think that I could order an assault at ten o’clock in
the morning in the Via Francesco Crispi, in Rome, after the most
conciliatory speech that I ever made during my Government?
Please do not think me such an idiot. Would I have planned with the
same lack of intelligence the minor assaults against Misuri and Forni?
You certainly remember my speech of June 7th. It should be easy for
you to go back to that week of ardent political passion when, in this
hall, minority and majority clashed every day, so much so that some
persons despaired of ever being able to re-establish those terms of
political and civil cooperation most necessary between the opposite
parties in the Chamber. The shuttles of violent speeches were flying
from one side to the other. Finally on June 6th Delcroix with his
lyric speech, full of life and passion, broke that storm-charged
tension.
The next day I spoke to clear the atmosphere. I said to the
opposition, “I recognize your ideal rights, your contingent rights.
You may surpass Fascism with your experience; you may put under
immediate criticism all the measures of the Fascist Government.”
I remember, and I have still before my eyes the vision of this part
of the Chamber, where all were attentive, where all felt that I had
spoken deep, living words, and that I had established the basis
for that necessary living-together without which it is not possible to
continue even the existence of any political assembly.
How could I, after a success—let me say that without false or
ridiculous modesty—after a success so clamorous that it was admitted
by all the Chamber, opposition included, a success because of which
the Chamber opened again the next Wednesday in a good atmosphere, how
could I think, without being struck with mad extravagance, to order,
I won’t say a murder, but even the slightest, the most petty offense
against that very adversary whom I esteemed because he had a certain
courage which looked like my courage, and an obstinacy which appeared
like my obstinacy in sustaining a thesis?
They have the minds of crickets who pretend that I was making only
cynical gestures on that occasion. Such gestures are the last to
be tolerated by me; they are repugnant to the very depths of my
conscience. And I feel as strongly against the show of strength.
What strength? Against whom? With what aim? When I think about that,
Gentlemen, I remember those strategists who, during the War, while we
were eating in the trenches, made strategy with little pins on the
maps. But when the problem is to get something done at the place of
command and responsibility, things are seen in another light and have
a different appearance. And yet on enough occasions, I have proved my
energy. I have usually not failed to meet events.
I have settled in six hours a revolt of the Royal Guards. In a few
days I have broken an insidious revolt. In forty-eight hours I brought
a division of Infantry and half of the fleet to Corfu. These gestures
of energy—and the last one amazed even one of the greatest generals of
a friendly Nation—are cited here to demonstrate that it is not energy
that fails me.
The death punishment? But that is a joke, Gentlemen! First of all, the
death punishment must be inflicted under the penal code and, in any
case, capital punishment cannot be the reprisal of a Government!
It must be inflicted with restrained, better let us say very
restrained, judgment, when the question is the life of a citizen. It
was at the end of that month which is carved deeply into my life,
that I said, “I want peace for the Italian people and I want to
re-establish normal political life.”
What was the answer to this policy of mine? First of all the secession
of the Aventino—anti-constitutional secession, clearly revolutionary!
Then a campaign of the press which lasted throughout the months of
June, July and August. A dirty, miserable campaign which dishonored us
for three months. The most fantastic, the most terrifying, the most
frightful lies were affirmed extensively in the press.
Investigations of underground happenings were also made; they invented
things, they knew they were lying, but it was done all the same! I
have always been peaceful and calm amid the storm. That storm will be
remembered by those who will come after us with a sense of intimate
shame. On September eleventh, somebody wanted to revenge a killing
and shot one of our best men. He died poor—he had sixty lires in his
pocket. But I continue my effort to normalize. I repress illegalities.
I state the bare truth when I say that even now in our jails there are
hundreds and hundreds of Fascists.
It is the bare truth when I recall to you that I reopened the
Parliament on the fixed date and that the discussion covered, with no
lack of regularity, almost all the budgets.
It is the bare truth that that oath of which you know is taken by the
Militia and that the nomination of all the generals for all the zone
commands is conducted as it is.
Finally a question which raised our passions was presented—the
question of accepting the resignation of Giunta. The Chamber was
excited. I understood the sense of that revolt; however, after
forty-eight hours I used my prestige and my influence. To a riotous
and reluctant assembly I said: “Accept the resignation,” and the
resignation was accepted.
But this was not enough; I made a last effort to create normal
conditions—the plan for electoral reform. How was that answered?
It was answered by an accentuation of the campaign and by the
assertion, “Fascism is a horde of barbarians camped on the Nation, and
a movement of bandits and marauders.” Now they stage, Gentlemen, the
moral question! We know the sad history of moral questions in Italy.
But after all, Sirs, what butterflies are we looking for under the
arch of Titus? Well, I declare here before this assembly, before all
the Italian people, that I assume, I alone, the political, moral,
historical responsibility for everything that has happened. If
sentences, more or less maimed, are enough to hang a man, out with the
noose! If Fascism has only been castor oil or a club, and not a proud
passion of the best Italian youth, the blame is on me!
If Fascism has been a criminal association, if all the violence
has been the result of a determined historical, political, moral
delinquency, the responsibility for this is on me, because I have
created it with my propaganda from the time of our intervention in the
War to this moment.
In these last days not only the Fascists but many citizens ask
themselves: Is there a Government? Have these men dignity as men?
Have they dignity also as a Government? I have wanted to reach this
determined extreme point. My experience of the life of these six
months is rich. I have tried the Fascist Party. Just as to try the
temper of some metals it is necessary to hit them with a hammer, so
have I tested the temper of certain men. I have seen their value;
I have seen for what reasons, at some moment when the wind seems
contrary, they turn around the corner. I have tested myself. And be
sure that I would not have persisted in measures if they had not
been for the interests of the Nation. A people does not respect a
Government which allows itself to be scorned. The people want to see
their own dignity reflected in a Government, and the people, even
before I said it, said, “Enough! The measure is filled.”
And why was it filled? Because the revolt of the Aventino has a
republican background.
This sedition of the Aventino has had consequences, for now
whoever in Italy is a Fascist risks his life! In the two months of
November and December eleven Fascists were killed. One had his head
crushed, and another one, an old man seventy-three years old, was
killed and thrown from a high wall. Three fires happened in one
month, three mysterious fires on the railroads, one in Rome, another
in Parma, and the third in Florence. Then came a subversive movement
everywhere.
A chief of a squad of the Militia severely wounded by subversives.
A fight between Carabinieri and subversives in Genzano.
An attempted attack against the seat of the Fascists in Tarquinia.
A man wounded by subversives in Verona.
A soldier of the Militia wounded in the Province of Cremona.
Fascists wounded by subversives in Forli.
Communist ambush in San Giorgio di Pesaro.
Subversives who sing the “Red Flag” and attack Fascists in Monzambano.
In the three days of this January, 1925, and in a single zone
incidents occurred in Mestre, Pionca, Valombra; fifty subversives
armed with rifles strolled through the country singing the “Red Flag”
and exploding petards. In Venice the Militiaman Pascai Mario was
attacked and wounded. In Cavaso di Treviso another Fascist was hurt.
In Crespano, the headquarters of the Carabinieri were invaded by about
twenty frantic women, a chief of a detachment of Militia was attacked
and thrown into the water. In Favara di Venezia Fascists were attacked
by subversives.
I bring your attention to these matters because they are symptoms. The
Express train No. 192 was stoned by subversives who broke the windows.
In Moduno di Livenza, a chief of the squad was attacked and beaten.
You can see by this situation that the sedition of the Aventino has
had deep repercussions throughout the whole Country. And then comes
the struggle in which one side says: Enough! When two elements are
struggling the solution lies in the test of strength. There never
was any other solution in history, and never will be.
Now I dare to say that the problem will be solved. Fascism, the
Government, the Party, is at its highest efficiency. Gentlemen, you
have deceived yourselves! You thought that Fascism was ended because
I was restraining it, that the Party was dead because I was holding
it back. If I should use a hundredth part of the energy that I used
to compress the Fascists, to loosen them.... Oh! You should see, for
then....
But there will be no need of that, because the Government is strong to
break fully and finally this revolt of the Aventino.
Italy, Gentlemen, wants peace, wants quiet, wants work, wants calm; we
will give it with love, if that be possible, or with strength, if that
be necessary.
You can be sure that in the forty-eight hours following this speech
the situation will be clarified in every corner. We all know that this
is not a personal fancy, not lust for government, not base passion,
but only infinite and powerful love for my Country.
These words, restrained till then, together with my disdain and my
force of expression, suddenly awoke Fascist Italy. The situation, as
I had foreseen, was clarified in forty-eight hours. The papers of the
opposition, which till then had been full of envy, hate and defamatory
attacks, began to slink into their holes again. A new situation, full
of power and responsibility, was developing. Fascism had now all the
attributes—after the long “quartarellista” parenthesis—to enable it to
march onward and to govern by itself.
It was on that occasion that the Liberal ministers Sarrocchi and
Casati, and also the minister Oviglio, a tepid Fascist, asked to
resign from the ministry. I replaced them with three Fascist ministers.
We were coming back by the force of events to the historical origins of
our movement, back to pure irreconcilableness.
Fascism, after my words full of my faith and my willingness to show
audacity, was coming back to its warrior soul. Immediately, all those
who were out of Fascism wanted to participate in our movement, but
in order not to load too much on our party the membership lists were
closed.
Victory was complete. The maneuvre of the former premiers definitely
failed and became ridiculous, just as did other artificial structures
attempted about that time. One was a movement inspired by Benelli,
under the name of the Italian League, to create secessions from
Fascism, and another an underhand maneuvre by some shortweight
grandchildren of Garibaldi.
At the end of January, 1925, the Aventino, with all our opponents,
appeared to have been destroyed, torn to pieces by a thousand internal
discords and differences. I was winner again on the whole front and I
was getting ready to channel the Fascist revolution into institutions
and into constitutional forms.
On October 28th, 1924, the National Militia, which represents the best
of Fascism and which has always been my beloved creation, had sworn
loyalty to the King. Now it was necessary to bring the Constitution of
1848 up to date and to create new representative institutions, worthy
of the new Italy.
With this aim I brought about the nomination of a commission of
eighteen experts on statecraft. I charged them with the preparation of
proposals of reforms to be presented to our legislative organs.
The commission was then called the Commission of the Solons. It
concluded its work, after a certain time, suggesting some improvements
in the old Constitution and the creation of new institutions. I
afterward used the recommendations as a base. The commission at the
time did not lay down definite lines, but it contributed to the reforms
which later on I began to see taking clearer shape and which were
approved by the two branches of the national parliament.
A law against secret societies was voted; so legal sanction was given
to the struggle maintained by Fascism against Masonry. In fact, in
1925, it was ridiculous to think that there could exist societies
constituted for performing a clandestine public act, outside the
control of the person who has the supreme direction of public affairs
and beyond the control of all who fulfill any function of the law.
A secret political society in modern, contemporary life is a thing of
nonsense, when it is not a menace. I settled it that all associations
should be known in their aims, in their formations, membership and
developments.
It was at that time that Federzoni, then Minister of the Interior,
prepared with my full approval the new law on public safety. Then we
intrusted the Communes to the “Podesta,” drawing them away from the
old electoral patronages, which were no longer suited to our time
and our temper. The Governship of Rome was instituted and there began,
because I had made up my mind to it, an inexorable fight against the
Mafia in Sicily, the bandits in Sardinia, and against other less widely
known forms of crime, which had humiliated entire regions.
In February, 1925, I fell desperately ill. For obvious reasons, and
perhaps because of exaggerated apprehension, any exact account of my
condition and of my illness was never given out. I admit that the
situation was in a certain way very grave. For forty days I could
not come out of the house. My enemies now put their great hope in
the illusion, revived by their desire, that my end was near. The
Fascisti, because of my silence and the contradictory reports that
were circulating, were very troubled. Never, so much as then, did I
understand that I was indispensable to my men, to my devoted people,
to all the great masses of Italian people. I had lively, vibrating and
moving manifestations of solidarity, of devotion, of good will. The
Black Shirts roared impatiently to see me.
When finally at the end of March, on the sixth anniversary of the
foundation of Fascism, I appeared healed on the balcony of the Palazzo
Chigi, I had in front of me all of Rome. The sight of me still thin
and pale stirred deep emotion. I saluted the multitude in the name of
Spring, and among other things I said, “Now will come the best!” This
sentence was interpreted in a thousand senses and aroused a wave of
plaudits and approbation.
The wise treatment of very clever doctors, such as Professor
Bastianelli and Professor Marchiafava, healed me completely. Those
miserable persons who had based their hopes upon my illness were
baffled. Nothing is more hateful to me than a hope that an illness may
end one’s adversary. I am more alive and stronger than ever before. I
could repeat what I said one day, after an attempt against my life:
“The bullets pass, Mussolini remains.”
Another train of events which was to mark my complex and difficult
existence was the attempts against my life.
Zaniboni initiated the series. He was a vulgar Socialist, who received
two checks of 150,000 francs each from the Czechoslovakian Socialists
to lead an anti-Fascist struggle. Naturally Zaniboni, a drug addict,
used the 300,000 francs to prepare with devilish ability for his
attempt against me. He chose the sacred day of the commemoration of the
victory. He ambushed himself in a room of the Hotel Dragoni, just in
front of the Palazzo Chigi, from the balcony of which I usually review
the processions which pass on the way to the altar of the Unknown
Soldier to offer their flowers, their vows and their homage.
Having an Austrian rifle with fine sights, the fellow could not miss
his aim. Zaniboni, to avoid being suspected, dressed himself in the
uniform of a major of the army, and got ready in the morning to
accomplish his crime. He was discovered. He had been followed for a
long time. A few days before, General Capello had generously
given him money and advice. Masonry had made of him its ensign. But
by simultaneous action, Zaniboni, General Capello and various less
important personages in the plot were arrested one hour before they
planned the attempt.
So closed the first chapter.
In 1926, in the month of April, when I inaugurated the International
Congress of Medicine, a crazy and megalomaniac woman of English
nationality, exalted by fanaticism, came near my motor car and at
close range fired a shot that perforated my nostrils. A centimeter’s
difference and the shot might have been fatal. It was, as I said, a
mad, hysterical woman, led on by elements and persons never clearly
identified.
I abandoned her to her destiny by putting her beyond the frontier,
where she could meditate on her failure and her folly.
Just after the occurrence, before my nose was out of its dressings, I
was speaking to a meeting of officials from all parts of Italy. I felt
impelled to say, “If I go forward, follow me; if I recoil, kill me; if
I die, avenge me!”
Another attempt which might have had grave results was that of an
anarchist, called Lucetti, who had come back from France with his soul
full of hate and envy against Fascism and against me. He waited for me
in the light and large Via Nomentana, in front of Porta Pia. He was
able to meditate his crime in silence. He had been eight days in Rome
and carried powerful bombs. Lucetti recognized my car, while I was
going to the Palazzo Chigi, and as soon as he saw it he hurled at
me the infernal machine, which hit an angle of the car and bounced back
on the ground, exploding there after I had passed. I was not wounded,
but innocent people were hurt and taken to the hospital.
When arrested, the miserable man could justify his crazy act only by
his anti-Fascist hate. I did not attach a great importance to the
episode. Having to meet the English ambassador, I went directly to the
Palazzo Chigi and the conversation with the foreign diplomat continued
calmly enough until a great popular demonstration in the streets
interrupted us. Only then the English ambassador, somewhat amazed,
learned of the attempt against my life.
The last attempt was made on October 31st, 1926. It was in Bologna,
after I had lived a day full of life, enthusiasm and pride.
A young anarchist, egged on by secret plotters, at a moment when the
whole population was lined up for the salute, came out from the ranks
and fired a gun at my car. I was sitting near the “Podesta” of Bologna,
Arpinati. The shot burned my coat, but again I was quite safe. The
crowd, in the meanwhile, seized by an impulse of exasperated fury,
could not be restrained. It administered summary justice to the man.
Other attempts were baffled. The exasperation was now surpassing
any limit. I understood that it was time to stop the doleful game
of the adversaries. The secret societies, the opposition press, and
deceitful political cults had only one aim: it was to hit the chief of
Fascism, so that all Fascism should be hit. The entire movement
that dominated Italy they believed turned on one pivot, on a name, on
a lone man. All the adversaries, from the most hateful ones to the
most intelligent, from the slyest ones to the most fanatical, thought
that the only way of destroying Fascism was to destroy its chief. The
people themselves perceived this and demanded grave punishments for the
criminals. The exasperated Fascists wanted to admonish all those who
were conspiring in the darkness.
A policy of force was absolutely necessary. I took over the Ministry of
Internal Affairs, and launched the laws for the defense of the régime,
laws which were to constitute the one essential basis for the new
unified national life.
I abolished the subversive press, whose only function was to inflame
men’s minds. Provincial commissions sent to confinement professional
subversives. Not a day goes by that we do not feel in Italian life how
much good has been wrought by these measures against the forces of
disintegration, disorder and disloyalty.
I must then conclude that a strong policy has yielded really tangible
results. Every day the country feels intensely the identification of
Fascism with the vital strength of the nation. Nobody suffers ostracism
in Italy; everybody is allowed to live under the definite régime of
law. Many elements of the old popular subversives understand now to
what extent a well regulated life is a benefit, not only for one class,
but for every class of the Italian people. Few are those who are still
confined, and few are those who intend to disobey. As Minister
of the Interior, I distributed a circular on January 6th, 1927, to
the Prefects, in which I pointed out what their duty in regard to the
population must be.
A new sense of justice, of serious purpose, of harmony and concord
guides now the destinies of all the peoples and classes of Italy. There
are neither vexations nor violence, but there is exaltation of what is
good and exaltation of the virtue of heroism. In every class, among all
citizens, nothing is done against the state, nothing is done outside
the state.
Many have finally opened their eyes to this serene and severe truth;
the Italians feel themselves of one fraternity in a great work of
justice. The sense of duty, the necessity of action, the manner of
civil life mark now an intense reawakening. The old parties are forever
dead. In Fascism politics is fused into a living moral reality; it is a
faith. It is one of those spiritual forces which renovates the history
of great and enduring peoples.