Alex Preston - In Love and War

MINISTRY FOR POPULAR CULTURE

VIA VITTORIO VENETO, ROMA

2/11/1937

Dear Mr Lowndes,

It is my pleasure to announce that Il Duce himself has asked me to write to you regarding Radio Firenze. We view this radio enterprise as having two heads — to school the Italian shopkeeper, clerk and artisan in the English language, so that the temporary cooling-off in the relationship between our countries does not lead to a loss of that particular feel for the language of business that marks out the Italian from his Mediterranean cousin; and to link up the right-thinking men of each country, so that the Italian realises that not all Englishmen are like Mr Eden, and the Englishman knows of the success of our glorious revolution, the real changes that have been effected in the lives of the ordinary people here, and the powerful muscle with which Il Duce is leading us into the future.

As such, Il Duce suggests you might broadcast on the Radio Roma network, meaning that Radio Firenze will be audible not only throughout Italy and the Greater Italian Empire, but also across the whole of Europe, including Great Britain. I hope that you understand the faith we are putting in the British Union here. Had Harold Goad not always been such an intelligent and loyal friend of our work, this project could scarcely have been contemplated.

Do pass on my very warmest wishes to Mr Goad, whom I have always held in the greatest admiration. Perhaps — with your permission — I might come and visit the studio next time I am in Florence. I could even prepare a small speech of an informative nature.

Cordial salutes,

Alessandro Pavolini, Minister for Popular Culture.

He stands on the Ponte Santa Trinità thinking of Fiamma, a sob in his heart. Carità has taken to parading his squads of MVSN up and down the Lungarno degli Acciaiouli and their jackboots echo between the buildings either side of the river. The city grows darker with every passing day as the Blackshirts locate dissenters, arrest Communists, round up pacifists. Fasces are carved into walls that once housed tabernacles to the Virgin. Everywhere is the slogan Credere, Obbadire, Combattire . The MVSN swarm like flies over the streets of the town, wringing money from shopkeepers, threatening and swindling, and always the marching, marching. It’s easy to see Carità out front, he’s the only one wearing shorts. He has a horse-whip in one hand which he beats against his bare leg as he shouts — Sinister, dexter, sinister, dexter .

Esmond imagines a gun in his hand as he stands there, imagines pointing it at Carità and pulling the trigger. He pictures Carità stumbling forward, over the parapet and into the Arno, the yellow water filling his lungs. He shakes his head. Goad was right — men like Carità, like William Joyce, these are the men of the violent future. He’s a relic, like Douglas, like his father. He strolls back along the bridge towards the Oltrarno, away from the Institute, the via Tornabuoni, Doney’s and the bells of San Gaetano, and south towards St Mark’s, the studio, the small room in the church apartments where he spends his nights, where his days are filled with disc recorder switches, the knobs and dials of the transmitter, the quiet precision of Goad’s voice outlining the differences between stress-timed and syllable-timed languages, the mysteries of the modal verb.

He pays melancholy visits to the triptych downstairs, and then upstairs to the lonely studio. — Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson, Ada tells him, and they both smile. He and Goad have broadcast on Shakespeare, Dante, Corporatism, Fascist art, and the programmes have been well received. He pictures his father, listening on his ancient Philco Easytune and hearing his, Esmond’s, voice, beamed across the Alps, across France, into the South Downs and breaking over the Midland towns into Shropshire. He imagines the smile on his father’s face and feels himself blush with pleasure.

Telegram: 26/10/37

Arrived in Ldn STOP 1st day at BUF HQ STOP Utterly mad all of them STOP Hope not 2 ghastly for you STOP Gerald

Rinaldo Piaggio, SpA

Genoa Sestri

1/11/1937

Dear Mr Lowndes,

Since my father is in ill health, I take the opportunity to reply to you in his stead. We would certainly be interested in purchasing three two-minute advertising slots on Radio Firenze. One of our employees will send you disc recordings directly, where we present the great aeronaut and Governor of Libya, Italo Balbo, praising the skills of Italian aircraft manufacturers and, particularly, the Piaggio P.16 heavy bomber, with which I’m sure you are familiar.

We agree your terms, namely five hundred lire per advertisement. Please find a cheque enclosed and we take this opportunity to wish you luck with your sensible venture.

Evviva Il Duce!

Sincerely,

Enrico Piaggio.

Isotta Fraschini Automobiles,

12845 Milano

7 November

MR LOWNDES

FIND ENCLOSED BANKER’S DRAFT FOR L2500 AND ONE DISC RECORDING OF PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL FOR THE ISOTTA FRASCHINI TIPO 8B. WE ARE DELIGHTED TO HEAR OF IL DUCE’S INTEREST IN YOUR UNDERTAKING AND PLEDGE OUR CONTINUED SUPPORT FOR RADIO FIRENZE. PLEASE GIVE OUR REGARDS TO LORD ROTHERMERE.

VIVA IL DUCE!

ORESTE FRASCHINI ON BEHALF OF ISOTTA FRASCHINI AUTOMOBILES.

Café Rapallo

Rapallo

27th November 1937

Mr Lowndes –

YES! in a word. In rather more, I might say to you how long I have been waiting for an opportunity of this sort. I first suggested that I broadcast my views regarding the SCOURGE of usury and the sole solution — that of C. H. Douglas’s SOCIAL CREDIT — some five years ago at a dinner I happened to attend with, amongst others, Signor Achille Starace. Unfortunately, the Italian administration has not seen fit to take me up on this offer. I am delighted, therefore, that you have made contact, and that I might continue my association with the laudable efforts of the British Union to repel the threat of Communism.

I will talk about the JEW. For centuries, since the brute Cromwell brought them back into England, the kikes have sucked the English marrow from its bones. And now even those last remnants of the WHITE RACE, the proper, intrepid Brits each of them the right blend of Saxon warrior and Norman noble, find themselves kowtowing to international financiers, the houses of Rothschild and Raphael and Samuel, usurers in London and New York. I will speak, and when I have finished speaking, it will be as when the storm passes, and the sky is crystalline.

I am afraid that I am not able to come to meet you in Florence as I am currently rather diminished of capital. If you should like to visit us in Rapallo (we could put you up at my good friend Olga Rudge’s place — we are far too cramped here) and bring your recording materials, I will be delighted, for a small fee, to deliver you several hours of DYNAMITE.

Give my best to Sir Oswald and your father.

Sincerely yours,

Ezra Pound.

Wooton Lodge, Staffs.

20/12/37

Dear Esmond –

All the best for a magnifico natale from Diana and me. I’m bloody proud of you, young man. I think you still smoke: here’s a couple of cartons from our doomed attempt to take on Philip Morris! Hope they aren’t too stale …

Warmest wishes,

Oswald.

[Card: Blake’s Newton ]

Happy Christmas Darling E! Miss you masses. I’m in hospital again, worse luck. Any chance of you coming back for a visit? A xxx.

[Card: Winter scene, English landscape.]

Dec ’37

Dear Esmond –

Wishing you a very Happy Christmas. Sorry you’re not with us. Cheque inside as I’m sure you can buy much finer things out there than we’d be able to send you from Shropshire.

Your mother sends her love,