I could cite many examples to show not only the indifference which Italians have to the history and literature of our country but also the absence of any desire to know about them. Then, their conceptions or ideas of Americans are quite extraordinary. They got them from tourists whom they saw overrunning their country en prince or en Cook, and made up their minds that they were a type of uncivilized Crœsus or of unæsthetic barbarian. They saw the effete, the effeminate and decadent, or the semi-invalided business man surrounded by a bevy of overdressed females whose chief interest seemed to be their luggage and the sights; and they saw the weary and wearisome gapers constituting the "personally conducted." Then again, the Italian is no great traveller. He likes his country, he is content with it, and, although he rails against his government, he would feel that a large part of the pleasure of life was taken from him if he were not permitted to discuss critically, and often disparagingly, what are commonly called politics. I don't mean to say that the Italian "fancies" himself, but neither the spirit of admiration nor of emulation distinguishes him. He is like the Roman in miniature. The Roman still thinks he is the last cry of God's handiwork in the human line.
When America declared war on Germany, and particularly when she declared war on Austria, Italians quickly got interested in America; and when they learned that America came so generously to Italy's aid, first, in supplying the money for the conduct of the war, and then in supplying the material needs of her people, Italians manifested a tremendous interest in us and in our country, and they began to look upon us as their guide and their savior. I never heard a disparaging word of our country or of him who was directing our ship of state until after the Peace Conference. They looked upon Woodrow Wilson as a man inspired. There were times during the war when they would have been very glad if America had acquiesced more readily and more whole-heartedly in their requests, such as in July, 1918, when they believed that it was imperative to have large numbers of American troops in Italy. But at the same time, when their wishes were not met and their requests not granted, they did not sit in adverse judgment upon him who made the decision. In fact, they believed he could not err.
It is natural that they should have been concerned about the situation that existed in the early summer of 1918. There were two millions of American troops in Europe, with more constantly coming, and there were only a very small number in Italy. The Italians saw themselves pitted more or less alone against a country, Austria-Hungary, which had an army nearly twice as large as theirs and which was more rapacious than a hungry wolf goaded into renewed ferocity by recent defeat. They sincerely believed that if they had received help at that time they could have overcome their hereditary and acquired enemy promptly, and it is likely that they could. That might have been a reason for sending American troops to Italy, but it was not an adequate reason. The one task in hand was to win the war, to win it expeditiously and to win it in such a manner that would put Germany, as she was constituted and as she had been constituted for the past twenty-five years, out of existence; that is, to exterminate the war lords, to destroy them and their influence. The man or men who were permitted to look at the question from all angles were far better able to plan how this should be done than the councillors of one nation who naturally saw the question only from one side, that is, their own point of view.
It is likely also that the Italians constantly reminded themselves that if they had received help from the Allies early in 1916 the war might have been ended. I have heard many an Italian say that they were in a position then to overcome the Austrian army had they received such help and that with the simultaneous activity of the Russians on the eastern front they would have carried the Allied arms into Vienna. But you do not grind your grist more satisfactorily by regretting that the waters that have gone over the mill were not used more efficaciously.
I have wandered far afield from the testimonial lunch to Mr. Stone, but my reflections are apropos of the remarks which the Honorable Nitti, a wizard with figures and a magician with men, made. Many of his countrymen profess to distrust him and to say that Giolitti made him and still controls him. Nothing could be more absurd. Nitti is the type of man who is made by his endowment and by his environment. It would be easier to think of any other public man in Italy as the tool of a dictator, dethroned or enthroned, than it would be of Nitti. The son of poor parents who sacrificed everything for his education, he has been journalist, author, teacher, economist, professor, advocate, and statesman. When he first went in the House he sat on the extreme left, and gradually he moved up toward the centre, although he is always inscribed in the radical party. He is unquestionably of formidable brain and combines a will of iron with an audacity that has the appearance at least of transcending all temerity.
In appearance he is the typical middle-class South Italian, short, rotund, with thick neck and massive face adorned with a smile that rarely comes off. He is a polished orator and his political papers read like literary documents. He is reputed to be a master of political stage-setting. Realizing that the most potent factor in shaping men's judgment is the press, and realizing that the man who has his fingers on the keyboard of the organ that makes the music was the honored guest of the occasion, he embraced the opportunity to put before Mr. Stone and his colleagues his convictions of the needs of Italy and his hopes that they might be gratified. I am sure that he did not say publicly anything that Mr. Stone had not already heard in private audience, for the doors leading to the council chambers of the men of influence in this country swing open welcomingly to Mr. Stone, but to say them in his presence to the representative press of Italy convinced us that his hopes and aspirations in this matter were the expression of the government, and he was willing and wished to communicate them to the public.
The other speakers were entertaining but scarcely instructive. One doesn't expect inspired sentiment or statement at testimonial banquets, but I felt that the speakers missed an opportunity to herald the democratization of the world through education and enlightenment via the press. Many nice things were said about Mr. Stone, but I confess frankly that I was disappointed that no one took it upon himself to interpret his accomplishments or to dwell upon and elaborate his activities and accomplishments symbolically. If they would stop telling us Germany's motives in precipitating the Great War and give us instead a credo for the present and the future, it would be a relief. I am firmly convinced that Germany thrust the war upon the world because she couldn't inhibit her latent and active cruelty which possesses and has possessed her for generations, as lust possesses the satyric man who, when he becomes intoxicated or unbalanced, throws prudence, precedent, precept, and principles to the wind and gives himself and his possessions to the orgy. The Central Powers will have to pay the full penalty for their crimes, even though they deny their guilt, just as the wilful murderer is electrocuted, even though he goes to the chair protesting his innocence.
The guest's speech was felicitous. He dwelt briefly on Italy's justification for entering the war when she did; he justly evaluated her work and he paid a deserving tribute to her resourcefulness in having extricated herself from the horns of the bull after the Caporetto disaster. He brought Columbus, Mazzini, and Garibaldi, our debt to them and their inspiration for us, into his remarks in such a way as to convince his auditors that they constitute for us a revered Italian trinity, and he adequately depicted the tenderness and affection that his countrymen have for Italy.
It takes a big man, using that word in one of its conventional senses, to conduct a successful publicity campaign. In the first place, he has to understand the people with whom he works, and the first successful step in understanding them is to want to understand them. If he has preconceived ideas not founded in reliable information or experience, if he is biassed and hypercritical, if he doesn't know how to elicit testimony and evaluate evidence, if he hasn't habituated himself to look at events, heralded or transpired, from different points of view, if he isn't animated by the spirit of service—that is, to do his work for the good of the cause—he is doomed to failure, or at least he can be only partially successful. Then again, he must be a man who worthily represents his government and his people. He should know his way about. He should be familiar with ordinary social amenities, so that he may go easily amongst his superiors and excite their approbation, and he must have the capacity to bear true witness while constantly keeping the burnished side of his shield before the people he is aiming to succor and orient. There are few ways in which one can be of more service to his country than by making proper propaganda in an allied country. The narrow-minded, biassed, obsessed man has the worst possible equipment for such position.
Propaganda is the priceless privilege of the press.