MUSSOLINI.

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 27, 1 February 1930, Page 7

MUSSOLINI.

THE NAPOLEONIC TOUCH. WLLHULM'S DEMONIAC OBSESSION. EX-KAISER'S OPERA. (By Dr. LEIGH HENRY, formerly Imperial Music Director in Berlin.) It was while staying in Italy that I first came into contact with the Fascists, although they were not known by that name then. The movement really started with a band of young men, who called themselves "Futurists," meeting together under the leadership of one Marinetti —a great friend of mine. I recollect attending a very dramatic demonstration held in the Teatre Verdi, in the early days of the movement. The meeting had been in progress for some time, when Marinetti said something which apparently offended a section of the audience, for they immediately started shouting and gesticulating in the typical Italian manner. Evidently realising the hopelessness of attempting to ajipease them, Marinetti signalled to us—we were then in the "flies" —to come down. Just then two or three of the audience scrambled on to the stage and began to rough-handle them. Then, suddenly and dramatically, the curtain rose, and ths disturbers found themselves facing a long line of revolvers. The scene can be imagined. There must have been at least two or three hundred young Italians, all wearing black shirts and red ties, standing on the stage scaffolding and other "props," with their right arms pointing menancingly at the people. Wine —Then Arrest. I had noticed several of these "black shirts" moving about in the audience before the meeting, but I had never connected them with the vanguard of the Futurist movement, which later, with Mussolini at their head, was to prove the saviour of Italy. The sequel followed the next day, Marinetti, myself, and a few others had that morning gone to a local cafe to refresh ourselves when suddenly an officer of the police entered and, coming up to Marinetti, bowed and said: "I much regret, Signore, but I am under instructions to arrest you for creating yesterday's riot." Marinetti courteously returned the salutation, and pointed to a chair. "Will the Signore Capitano be pleased to drink with us first?" he asked, but the officer politely refused, explaining that he was on duty. "But you have only to take off your gloves," Marinetti said and after a little more persuasion, the man complied. We drank a glass of wine together, and then, putting down his glass, the officer stood to attention and said, in a loud voice: "Signore Marinetti, I arrest you in the name of the King." Marinetti bowed, and offered his arm. Histrionic Instinct. It was also while in Italy that I met Mussolini for the first time. In those days he was a very distracted and, I am afraid, rather unkempt journalist, the editor of a Milan political newspaper. What struck me most about him was his compelling personality. There was the fire of a visionary in his eyes, but I must confess that very few of us looked upon him then as the future Prime Minister of Italy. Indeed, he was looked upon by his colleagues rather as a "crank," though his leaders were admired and imitated. He had rather an unpleasant habit of continually biting his nails as he talked. As far as the people were concerned, he was noted for making spasmodic and dramatic appearances at small political meetings. His success has been partly due—like# Napoleon's—to his histrionic instinct*, which pleased and satisfied the Italian's love of the dramatic. He uses his arm* as much as he does his voice, but there is one thing that disconcerts one when talking to him, and that is his keen sense of bored humour. Even after the most profound utterance, he will make some remark which, by its very unsuitableness, will have much the same effect as would an unexpected cold shower. Meeting With Ex-Kaiser. I often came into contact with the exKaiser when I wa6 an Imperial Music Director in Berlin, just before the war, and, in this respect, I should like tc contradict the impression prevalent among people generally that the German Emperor was a weak and vain man. Vain he certainly was, but I have never known him to be weak. Encountering him in the Court Room at the height of a banquet as equally in public emergencies, one had an instant impression of a man obsessed by some demoniac power over which he had little control. He was a fanatic, but, as is often the case with men obsessed by an idea, he had an immense vision, the value of which was, lost thxough his overattention to detail. Almost everything relating to the public welfare went through his hands, even to the extent of approving the plans of a public washliouse, before allowing them to be passed. Love of Stage Effect. He was inordinately vain, and would never attend a reception unless the stage had been set beforehand. This usually consisted in hanging dark, heavy cur-

tains behind the throne, and so arran 0 the headlights that they would fall directly on to the Imperial liguie. Indeed, when one caught sight of him standing on the dais, his rather squa figure -littering with medals and orders, and the shaking, palsied left hand clawinrr at the hilt of his sword, he often looked the person the foreign papers were so fond of pictuung him. 1 Few are aware that the Kaiser once ' wrote an opera, entitled "Sardanapalus," ' which was produced in Berlin—a piece 1 of music, it might be said, more distinguished for its psychologic than its musical value. There was an amusing story current at the time in Royal circles regarding its reception. Blech was conducting the opera, and it is related that during the interval he was encountered by Strauss, who asked him his opinion of jt. Blecli looked at the famous composer for a moment, and then, shaking his head, said: "Ssh! my friend. You don't know who wrote it!"—(A.A. and N.S. Copyright.) U