SOURCE: “How Mussolini Fell,” in The Political Quarterly, Vol. XVII, No. 4, October-December, 1946, pp. 320-9.

Twenty-fifth July, 1943, started in Rome like any other Sunday. Under the burning sun, the rare passers-by who crossed the Piazza Venezia looked furtively towards the famous balcony from which, for many years, a meglomaniac had given them his orders. In front of the Palazzo Venezia, two sentries paced up and down. Everything looked normal enough, yet since the night before vague unquiet seemed to linger everywhere in the capital.

Twenty-six men were sitting in their homes, waiting for news. They were the actors in the drama which had come to a climax the night before and they knew that a turning-point had been reached in the history of Italy. Their vote of the night before had for ever closed a period of tyranny and ended the dictatorship of “one man and one man alone.”

During the meeting on the night before, of the Fascist Grand Council in Rome, the youngest of the members present, Signor Giuseppe Bottai, former Minister of Education, had made a verbatim account of the session. He had perhaps realized its historic importance earlier than the others; or his university education had possibly given him the habit of taking notes. The fact remains that the details recorded by him and completed with a few notes taken by some of his colleagues, like Count Grandi and Ciano, enabled Bottai to give a true and minute account of Mussolini's disgrace.

The verbatim account of a discussion was usually summarized on the day following a meeting by the Secretary of the Fascist Party himself, submitted to the Duce for approval and only then became “official”. But during the night from 24th to 25th July, the atmosphere was so tense and events moved so quickly and in such an unexpected way that no verbatim account was ever published. Thus the report written by Giuseppe Bottai represents to-day the only exhaustive document of the meeting.

Doubtless, Bottai intended to complete his story at a later date and to make it part of a more important literary work. But events moved too quickly for him, and soon afterwards he was forced to disappear and to go underground. He was condemned to death by the Fascist “Government” of Verona and sentenced to life imprisonment by the present Italian Government. According to some reports he fought with the partisans against the Germans. To-day, he is still in hiding, probably outside Italy. The first version of his verbatim account, consisting of hastily written notes, has never been altered. Yet this report makes it possible for us to learn what really happened behind the monumental and well-guarded doors of the Palazzo Venezia.

Giuseppe Bottai's account opens in the dry manner characteristic of official minutes:

“At seventeen hours fifteen minutes, the Duce, President of the Council, declares that the meeting is open. Present: Mussolini, de Bono, de Vecchi, Scorza, Suardo, Grandi, de Marsico, Acerbo, Biggini, Paroschi, Federzoni, Polverelli, Cianetti, Galbiati, Bastianini, Ciano, Tringali-Casanova, Farinacci, Bottai, Albini, Alfieri, de Stefani, Rossoni, Buffarini-Guidi, Frattari, Marinelli, Gottardi, Barella, Bignardi.” Bottai notes that they all wear the Fascist uniform while the Duce has put on that of a Commanding General of the Fascist Militia.

Mussolini opens the discussion with a long report. He uses a large number of written notes. He starts thus: “There has been much talk recently about the supreme command of the Armed Forces which I have taken into my hands. Let us start, if you like, by recalling the genesis of this supreme command of the Armed Forces …” Mussolini then reads a letter dated 3rd May, written and signed by Marshal Badoglio. He affirms that it was according to the wish and the written suggestion of the Marshal that he was entrusted with total military power on behalf of the King.

“Then,” adds Bottai, “Mussolini makes a remarkable confession of impotence and incompetence.” “The working of the Supreme Command,” he says, “has been characterized by reluctance, ambiguity and falsehood. Above all, it is falsehood which predominated in the conduct of the war. I am the Supreme Commander. The only battle, however, which I have actually and personally conducted, was the battle of Pantelleria which took place in the absence of General Cavallero and for which I assume the entire responsibility. I myself gave the order to capitulate when Admiral Pavoni cabled to tell me that all resistance on the Island had become impossible. Only Stalin or the Mikado can give the order to resist to the last man. Anyway, Pantelleria was my invention for, until 1935, only the Police knew of its existence (the island was formerly used as a convict settlement for political prisoners). Pantelleria was my creation and it was mine to do with as I wanted.”

Mussolini went on to describe the defeat of El Alamein. “I had forseen that the British would attack on 28th October, because, with their grim sense of humour, they wanted the start of the attack to coincide with the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of Fascism.” He threw all responsibility for the defeat on Rommel, whom he describes as “A magnificent Commander as far as tactics are concerned but deplorable as regards strategy.”

Mussolini then went into a detailed account of German help in the Italian war, taking certain figures from a voluminous file. He points out that by 1st April, 1943, Germany had sent 40 million tons of coal, 2[frac12] million tons of metals, 22 thousand tons of synthetic rubber, 220 thousand tons of fuel (petrol) for planes and 21 thousand tons of fuel oil. By the same date, 1,500 guns were in action in Italy.

Mussolini continues: “Defeatists say that the heart of the Italian people is not in this war. That may be. But in truth a war is only popular if it is won. It becomes very unpopular if events are unfavourable. Anyway, it doesn't matter whether it is popular or not. It is not what people carry in their hearts that matters but their behaviour and their acts. Nobody can deny that the majority of the Italian people are strictly regimented and subjected to a severe discipline. That is what matters.”

He concludes: “Now this is our dilemma to-day: war or peace? Unconditional surrender or resistance to the last? I admit that certain people, especially among the more educated class, are not enthusiastic about the war … But as I said before, no war has ever been popular. People accuse this war of being the war of Fascism, but then, every war is always the war of the party which is in power. If this war is the war of Mussolini, then the war of 1859 was the war of Cavour. The fact remains that England wants to have before her a century of domination over Europe in order to be assured of her five meals a day. She wants to occupy Italy to keep her under her domination for ever. All the rest is just rubbish.”

A few minutes of silence follow. Then General de Bono speaks. He starts a sentimental defence of the army and opposes Mussolini's arguments on the responsibility of military leaders.

Farinacci (former Secretary of the Party and leader of the pro-Hitler faction of Fascism) deplores the “hostility and distrust of certain official circles towards the Germans”. He concludes with a violent dithyramb to the German glory and power.

De Vecchi replies violently to Farinacci and accuses him of having dodged the first world war and of having mutilated himself to escape fighting in the Abyssinian war. The discussion loses its thread. When his turn comes Bottai gets up, in order, as he writes, to come back to the real object of the meeting.

“Contrary to the opinion of the General Staff, he (Bottai) thinks that the enemy, after having occupied Sicily, is going to concentrate his efforts on an invasion of Italy proper. Therefore the problem which faces the country is whether Italy is prepared for such an assault? From this issue, one can proceed to the wider problem which is: Shall we continue with the war or sue for peace?” And turning towards Mussolini, who listens to him musingly, Bottai adds: “As for you, your speech has given us the definite impression that a defence of the peninsula is virtually impossible. Your arguments kill finally any illusions which still might have been left to us. Your words point therefore, directly to the conclusion that we are technically incapable of sustaining the enemy's assault. To this, we have to add a corrupt military command. It is up to you all to draw your own conclusions.”

Again, a few minutes of silence ensued. Then Count Grandi slowly rises to his feet.

“I wish to repeat for the benefit of the Grand Council what I have already said to the Duce the day before yesterday and I wish to move the following motion …”: Then, in a clear voice, Count Grandi read the document which drew a formal indictment against the Fascist regime and recommended as the only road to salvation for the country, the return to a constitutional system and the restitution to the King of executive power as well as “the constitutional power of the King to declare war and to conclude peace”. The die was cast. That was the end of dictatorship though veiled by clever words … The Duce's expression is impenetrable, hard and distant.

Count Grandi defends his motion with vigour and verve. Stabbing his finger against the Duce, the speaker rains a torrent of abuse on Mussolini. (During the whole of his diatribe, he went on using the familiar “tu” instead of the more official “voi”, which lent a still more genuine fervour to his accusations). “You have imposed upon Italy a dictatorship, historically immoral. Gradually, day by day, you have suppressed our liberties and violated our rights.” With his hands grasping the lapels of his black tunic, he adds: “For years, you have stifled our individuality under this funeral cloak. Your dictatorship wanted this war. Your dictatorship has lost it. The leader whom we loved has disappeared. In his place to-day reigns the gold-braided puppet invented by this madman Starace (former Secretary of the Party who tries more than anybody else to standardize life in Italy and to create the myth of the infallibility of the Duce). Try to become once more the Mussolini you used to be. But you cannot. It is too late. Through your madness, through our weakness, the destiny of a great people has been handled like the private affairs of an individual. As to your absurd boasting about assuming responsibility! It does not suffice that you assume it. We are all responsible and it is the country that will have to pay. And yet, you have discarded us. We, the members of the Grand Council, have become impotent ‘extras' on your stage. Whenever you had to choose somebody for an important job, you always chose deliberately the biggest B.F. you could find: for instance, him (Grandi pointed to Polverelli, the Minister of Information), he's a good example. He's just ordered the newspapers never to mention the war nor Italian independence, not Vittorio Veneto, nor the Piave. For the last seventeen years, you've kept for yourself the three war portfolios, and what have you accomplished, Supreme Commander? You have destroyed the spirit of our Armed Forces, you have stifled the Crown, you have robbed it of its prerogatives.”

Count Grandi spoke for an hour and a half and these were his last sentences: “You have ordered that some of your sayings should be written on the walls of Italy. They are all ridiculous and devoid of sense, but there is one sentence which you pronounced in 1924 which is worth repeating. ‘Let all factions perish. Let our faction perish as well, providing that the Nation survive.’ To-day, the moment has come. The faction has to perish.”

Sinister silence followed Grandi's accusations. Everybody waited for a reaction from the Dictator, expecting him to call in his Blackshirts to wreak vengeance on the Count. Nothing of the sort happened. Everybody noticed the ghastly paleness of Mussolini who had sunk back in his arm-chair and, with a tired gesture, opened his collar. And Bottai heard and wrote down these words, whispered by the vanquished dictator: “Decidedly, fortune has turned her back on me.”

Polverelli asks to be heard. He does not seem to realize the import of the tragic atmosphere and thinks only of himself, as if this were an ordinary debate. He tries clumsily to refute Count Grandi's accusations about the instructions which he had given recently to Italian newspaper editors. In face of his well-known puerility, everybody relaxes for a moment and nobody listens.

Count Ciano, the Duce's son-in-law and former Foreign Minister, affirms that the necessity of continuing the war until the bitter end is beyond discussion. As the Duce, however, has just referred to the importance of remaining loyal to alliances and pledges, he (Ciano) thinks it might be useful to recall the genesis of the Italo-German alliance.

“Germany asked for this alliance twice. The first time was in 1938, during the naval review at Naples. At that time, Mussolini tried to evade giving a definite reply and produced only vague replies. The second attempt took place in 1939. Mussolini accepted ‘In the hope of stopping Germany in her race towards war’. Hitler pledged himself not to create any questions which might provoke a war. Now at that time the German General Staff had already fixed the date for the invasion of Poland.”

Ciano goes on to recall the meeting at Salzburg, where he arrived as the bearer of a letter from Mussolini to Hitler and in which the Duce described Italy's military situation in such terms that he could only advise the postponement of the opening of hostilities to 1943 at the earliest.

“You have never hidden anything from our Ally,” Ciano says to Mussolini, “but our Ally has never treated you with the same loyalty. Contrary to all agreements and all obligations towards us, the Germans started the war before the agreed moment. During the whole course of the war, they have never stopped confronting us with the fait accompli. Every attack which took place after Poland was notified to us only after it had already started: such as the attack on Belgium which the Ambassador Mackensen—even though I had spent the evening before with him up to midnight—announced to me at 4 a.m. in the morning, at the very moment when the German troops were crossing the frontiers; or the attack on Russia which Bismarck announced to me in the same way.”

And Ciano ends by saying: “In this alliance, we shall not in any case be traitors but the betrayed.”

It is Farinacci's turn to get up. He makes a demogogic defence of the Germans. He praises their power and their good faith and suggests a motion which reaffirms solidarity with Nazi Germany but agrees with the proposed restitution of military (though not the political) power of the King.

It is now for Mussolini to defend himself. His voice is low, humble and almost pathetic. The arrogance of the Dictator gives way to the submissiveness of the accused. He complains of what he considers to be futile criticisms. “What is the use of these reproaches at a moment when we are fighting against the power of three empires …”

De Marsico speaks in favour of Count Grandi's motion and of a return “to the spirit and not only the letter of the constitution, supreme bulwark of our conscience”.

Then Scorza tried to create a diversion: “It is late,” he says. “We could put off the rest of the discussion until to-morrow.” Mussolini, who sees his last chance in an adjournment, backs up the suggestion made by the Secretary of the Party. He says, his face distorted with a painful expression, that he is ill and that he has to avoid all overwork, adding “If the doctors had cared for me a little less well the last time I was ill, you would not be discussing to-night things that you cannot understand.”

Grandi jumps up: “No, no. I object to any postponement. How many times in the past have you kept us here until dawn to discuss the Charter of Labour or some other even less urgent question. To-night, we are not going to leave before we have discussed and voted on the motion. It is the life of the country which is at stake.”

Mussolini, tired and drooping, acquiesces with a wave of his hand, and the meeting goes on.

Federzoni refutes Mussolini's statement that all wars are unpopular. “This war,” he says, “certainly is, because of its unfortunate name of a ‘Fascist war’ which has divided the nation. But the Libyan war and, above all, the war of 1915-18 were not.”

It is ten minutes past midnight, and the meeting is interrupted for a short pause. Mussolini, accompanied by Scorza, retires into his office while the other members of the Grand Council break up into little groups, arguing feverishly. Grandi makes use of the break to collect signatures for his motion. Trays of lemonade and sandwiches are handed round.

12-35 a.m.—Mussolini comes back into the council room. The meeting continues. Bastianini, Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, describes the situation on the Italian home front. He affirms that the demoralization of the inhabitants of Sicily had been one of the major causes of the rapid Italian defeat in this island. Mussolini interrupts him: “I had forseen the Sicilian problem for a long time. Last year, I ordered the chief of police of Catania to lock up anybody who was wandering about the town and to shoot anyone who abandoned his post during the bombardments.”

Without paying attention to the interruption, Bastianini goes on: “An unbridgeable gulf separates the Party and the country. The country is always in a state of passive resistance and obstruction towards the regime. It is perhaps already too late to embark on a complete change of policy which could alter the aspect and the soul of Fascism.”

Then Bastianini speaks of the project which he had already presented at the time of the Salzburg meeting. “We have been wrong in not improving our relations with the nations of eastern Europe who, like ourselves, do not like Nazi domination. Perhaps it is still not too late.”

Tringali-Casanova (President of the Special Fascist Tribunal), Biggini (Minister of the National Education), Galbiati (Chief of the General Staff of Fascist Militia), declare themselves against Grandi's motion: “All the Italian people are united around the Duce,” says Galbiati, addressing Bottai, Grandi and Bastianini. “If there be a rupture, it lies between you and the people. What does lack of armament matter when you have the will to fight.”

Mussolini, who has recovered his spirits during Galbiati's interruption, addresses his adversaries one by one: “Among the accusations which you have made against the regime, you have forgotten the one which is most often on the lips of the people: the fabulous wealth which several of you have amassed.” The dictator becomes indignant, slaps the brief-case in front of him and in a hollow menacing tone, goes on: “I have enough proof here to send all of you to the gallows. You more than anyone else (he says pointing to Ciano with his finger). When you're in the house, it is treason itself that has entered.”

Mussolini speaks of Grandi's motion. He is nervous and continuously raises his voice: “This motion raises grave problems of personal dignity. If the King accepts the restitution of military power, it means decapitation for me. We've had enough words. Let us speak frankly. I am sixty and I know the significance of such a step at such a moment. But beware! If to-morrow, the King renews his confidence in me which he has never refused, what will be your position, Gentlemen, before the King and before the Party, and what is more, before me personally? Moreover, I hold in my hands the key which could clear up the war situation, but you aren't going to know what it is.”

Grandi rises: “The Duce is blackmailing us. He is making us choose between our old loyalty to him and our devotion to our country. We can't hesitate for a moment, Gentlemen, it is our country that matters.”

The meeting has reached its most intense pitch. Scorza rises and shouts at Mussolini: “You haven't known how to be enough of a Dictator, you've been the most disobeyed man of the century,” and he praises the party at length. He presents another motion, which is halfway between Grandi's and Farinacci's. He proclaims resistance to the end but demands the immediate reform of constitutional bodies and military commands. “It is in my capacity of Secretary of the Party that I ask you to vote for the motion.”

Here Bottai notes that it is impossible to keep account of the meeting. Everybody is speaking at the same time. Insult follows insult. Bastianini is heard yelling—“Why do you propose a motion in your capacity as Secretary of the Party? To call us traitors if we don't vote for it? It's blackmail.”

And Ciano cries: “It's only you who'll go to Forte Boccea, not us.” (Forte Boccea is the usual execution ground.)

When order was re-established, de Bono, who hadn't taken part in the din, got up to defend the Army and the General Staff with energy: “In the national marasmus, the Army is the only guarantee of a real continuity of tradition and loyalty.”

De Stefani (former Minister of Finance) affirms that it is necessary to draw a clear distinction between the regime and the country: “It is for the country alone to prompt supreme decisions. You can't win a war like ours by mobilizing the Party. The whole country is supporting a weight that is definitely beyond its powers. It sees its houses, factories, monuments, in short, all its riches, destroyed. No matter what the cost, we must save what can be saved.”

Farinacci defends his motion violently. Then Suardo (President of the Senate) gets up. He is in tears and declares that he has taken back the signature which he has put under Count Grandi's motion. He asks his colleagues to vote in favour of the motion presented by Scorza. He is backed up by Cianetti who starts to express the same doubts as Suardo. Bottai intervenes with these words: “For two days I have not eaten and I have not slept. I have thought a lot before taking a decision, but if I were now to take back my signature, well, I would not be a man.”

Polverelli is going to vote against Grandi: “I was born and shall die a Mussolinean.”

Bottai affirms once more that the crisis which threatens the nation can only be solved by the restitution to the Crown of supreme powers.

By then, the Assembly is dead tired and the meeting draws to an end. A few more words from Grandi, Ciano, Biggini, Paroschi and Buffarini-Guidi. Then Mussolini with a gesture of utter indifference, signals to Scorza to take the vote.

Nineteen votes in favour of Grandi's motion—seven against and only one abstention—that of Suardo. The curtain slowly falls on the last act of a dictatorship.

Mussolini gets up with difficulty and asks: “Who is going to present this motion to the King?” and Grandi answers, “It's up to you to do it.”

Mussolini says: “That's all, I think we can leave. You have brought about a crisis in the regime. The meeting is closed.”

While the Duce turns to leave the room, Scorza, according to the usual procedure, shouts: “Salute al Duce.” Polverelli is the only one to answer. It is eighteen minutes to three in the morning of 25th July, 1943.