‘Now since in this case I am both director and star, I have to make careful distinctions. I have to delegate, of course. I have to rely on experts. You, Professor Peters, are one of my experts. As your admission to the Fascist Inner Council shows, your worth is thoroughly recognised. Once our machines are in full production you will get all credit for your work. We shall put your name on everything. The Peters Land Cruiser. The Peters Long Range Flying Boat. The Peters Jointed Aircraft Carrier. Meanwhile, the state requires that Mussolini’s is the only name associated with our projects. Now that there has been a little scandal, we can reveal a few other details, perhaps let another vague photo or two be published. These will serve to keep the world guessing. Of course I understand your concern and appreciate your position, which is why the Popolo d’ltalia has asked to run a series of interviews with you, concentrating on your many achievements in America. As we speak, the Italian Academy is considering inviting you to join its distinguished company. I learned today, and this is strictly between us, that you are to receive the Fascist Eagle First Class. Your efforts are not going unrewarded. Your salary, I understand, is also to rise in accordance with your new position.’
But none of these honours, none of these rewards meant as much to me as knowing that Il Duce was not displeased with me. I was close to tears.
‘My Duce,’ I said, ‘I live to serve you and the Italian nation.’
That was all he needed to hear. Again his manly lips split into a boyish grin, his massive hands spread wide. If the desk had not been between us, I know he would have embraced me.
‘Come,’ he said, heading for the door into our ‘secret’ room. ‘Let’s have a look at the monsters which are making the French and the Swiss wet their knickers.’ And we were again at play.
I speak, of course, with a certain levity. I came to understand how my Chief used these exercises for many purposes. First, they relaxed him. Far more than the women who were brought every afternoon to his office, our machines of the future took his mind off the cares of the present. He could lose himself in his dream. Second, they enabled him to plan. His instincts were perfect at this time. As far as the world was concerned our weapons were so terrible, so effective, the chances of them being used were slim. My Land Leviathan would guard the boundaries of the New Roman Empire. My huge Flying Wings would carry passengers as easily as bombs. My jointed floating Aircraft Battle Stations could be always ready to launch my superfast skyfleet into the skies. Such weapons meant peace, not war - a peaceful, secure Italy, firmly established within her natural imperial borders, threatening no one and unthreatenable. That was all the average Italian longed for. Look at Things to Come, which Korda made in 1936, if you want see a vision of the clean, predictable, decent future we hoped to achieve. In that wonderful film, which also owed something to my ideas, men of refined education and of the very best character take charge of the world and put it right. This was all Fascism wished for. Yet I do not believe H. G. Wells ever claimed to be a Fascist.
Only when Mussolini, pressured by other powers, brought his plans forward did things begin to go wrong. Where once whole towns had swarmed to cheer him, soon he was lucky to find the stationmaster still on duty when his train came in. The same happened to Hitler. Their people put them in power because they wanted the secure stability of peace, not the uncertainties and privations of war. If Hitler and Mussolini had not set their feet on that inescapable course — admittedly because they were terrified of Stalin — the world would be a very different place today. There would have been no abolition of National Service, for instance, and therefore no hippies. My cities would rise into the skies. My city would be called Roma and she would bring Law, Justice, Order and Probity to the world. My ship is called Byzantium, the spiritual heart of our faith and our idealism. My ship is called Leviathan. She crushes the cities of the enemy. She swallows them. She shits them. They are called Carthage. They are called Jerusalem. Meyn Schiff ist The Sword. She flies in defence of all that is holy, all that is noble, all our history. Meyn Schiff ist Der Heym. Meyn Schiff ist Der Heym.
Sometimes when overtired I felt I was involved in a vast Hollywood epic in which the star really was Mussolini and in which the people of Italy played the extras. Much of his work was designed to create the illusion. He believed the reality would follow.
Cynics have said there were resources only for the illusion, none for the reality. I know better. If Mussolini had stuck to his true course and been a little stricter with some of his antagonists, such as the Jews and the Catholics, he or his son would be in power today. He was foolish to be so accommodating to Hitler. I speak as a neutral, judging Hitler neither way, but there was an element of instability in the Führer’s make-up I never detected in Il Duce. Hitler was misadvised from the outset. If he had known what was going on in his own higher echelons he would have made a cleansing of the stables much sooner. As it was, he cleansed the wrong stables of the wrong elements. Röhm was a rough diamond, but he was heart and soul for the Nazi cause.
Margherita Sarfatti believed sincerely that if she had been beside him, Il Duce would not have made the mistakes he did. Yet others believe she was his worst mistake!
The Albanians have a saying: There are three things you should never trust. A dead viper, a wounded boar and a Jew turned Catholic.
Margherita argued that the worst mistake her lover made was to achieve reconciliation with the Vatican. Once he let the Jesuits back into the corridors of power, Italy was lost. In spite of her opinion, Margherita, of course, took the expedient of converting while the ink was still wet on the agreement. Signora Mussolini, it was said, never accepted the Church. Her Romagnan relatives must have wept when they learned about the pact. They felt betrayed. The worst crime Mussolini ever committed — again at the instigation of the Roman bishops - was the attempted Catholicisation of conquered territories which had been Orthodox for centuries! That is no way to win friends. Mussolini lost many friends in the Balkans. Those who say he was responsible for the murder of King Alexander of Yugoslavia cannot know history! That territory was a battleground for centuries. Christians fought Moslems, Serbs fought Croats, fascists fought communists. They know nothing else but contention.
Many claim nationalism to be an essential element of fascism and so it is. That is why there are so few international fascist organisations in comparison to the communists. But Italy’s form of nationalism and Spain’s form of nationalism are very different, say, to the kind of small-minded nationalism one hears so often in the UK. I cannot tell you the number of times I have been insulted. ‘Jew’ is their favourite, of course, but there are many others. I tell them my blood is pure. It is Slavic blood, Russian blood, the finest blood in the world. The only blood, I point out, which Hitler feared. Save for his own, of course.
To be honest, I was not over-employed as Il Duce’s Minister for Overseas Development. I arrived at eleven, knowing the Duce to be a late riser, and lunched nearby from two until four. In case Mussolini should require me, I was never very far away from the office. Similar routines were followed by all the other ministers and officials. The rest of my time was spent occasionally servicing La Sarfatti, taking tea with Maddy, chatting on the telephone with acquaintances and so on. Occasionally I would give an interview to the foreign or domestic press.