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that he had had to carry on at least so much of the regal
tradition as to control the conversation。 He was； however；
entirely un…posed。 His talk reminded me somehow of Maurice
Baring's books； it had just the same quick； positive
understanding。 And he had just the same detachment from the war
as the French generals。 He spoke of itas one might speak of an
inundation。 And of its difficulties and perplexities。
Here on the Adriatic side there were political entanglements that
by comparison made our western after…the…war problems plain
sailing。 He talked of the game of spellicans among the Balkan
nationalities。 How was that difficulty to be met？ In Macedonia
there were Turkish villages that were Christian and Bulgarians
that were Moslem。 There were families that changed the
termination of their names from /ski/ to /off/ as
Serbian or Bulgarian prevailed。 I remarked that that showed a
certain passion for peace； and that much of the mischief might be
due to the propaganda of the great Powers。 I have a prejudice
against that blessed Whig 〃principle of nationality；〃 but the
King of Italy was not to be drawn into any statement about that。
He left the question with his admission of its extreme complexity。
He went on to talk of the strange contrasts of war； of such
things as the indifference of the birds to gunfire and
desolation。 One day on the Carso he had been near the newly
captured Austrian trenches； and suddenly from amidst a scattered
mass of Austrian bodies a quail had risen。 that had struck him
as odd； and so too had the sight of a pack of cards and a wine
flask on some newly…made graves。 The ordinary life was a very
/obstinate/ thing。。。。
He talked of the courage of modern men。 He was astonished at the
quickness with which they came to disregard shrapnel。 And they
were so quietly enduring when they were wounded。 He had seen a
lot of the wounded； and he had expected much groaning and crying
out。 But unless a man is hit in the head and goes mad he does
not groan or scream！ They are just brave。 If you ask them how
they feel it is always one of two things： either they say quietly
that they are very bad or else they say there is nothing the
matter。。。。
He spoke as if these were mere chance observations； but everyone
tells me that nearly every day the king is at the front and often
under fire。 He has taken more risks in a week than the Potsdam
War Lord has taken since the war began。 He keeps himself acutely
informed upon every aspect of the war。 He was a little inclined
to fatalism； he confessed。 There were two stories current of two
families of four sons； in each three had been killed and in each
there was an attempt to put the fourth in a place of comparative
safety。 In one case a general took the fourth son in as an
attendant and embarked upon a ship that was immediately
torpedoed； in the other the fourth son was killed by accident
while he was helping to carry dinner in a rest camp。 From those
stories we came to the question whether the uneducated Italians
were more superstitious than the uneducated English； the king
thought they were much less so。 That struck me as a novel idea。
But then he thought that English rural people believe in witches
and fairies。
I have given enough of this talk to show the quality of this king
of the new dispensation。 It was； you see； the sort of easy talk
one might hear from fine…minded people anywhere。 When we had
done talking he came to the door of the study with me and shook
hands and went back to his deskwith that gesture of return to
work which is very familiar and sympathetic to a writer； and with
no gesture of regality at all。
Just to complete this impression let me repeat a pleasant story
about this king and our Prince of Wales； who recently visited the
Italian front。 The Prince is a source of anxiety on these
visits； he has a very strong and very creditable desire to share
the ordinary risks of war。 He is keenly interested； and
unobtrusively bent upon getting as near the fighting as line as
possible。 But the King of Italy was firm upon keeping him out of
anything more than the most incidental danger。 〃We don't want
any historical incidents here；〃 he said。 I think that might well
become an historical phrase。 For the life of the Effigy is a
series of historical incidents。
6
Manifestly one might continue to multiply portraits of fine
people working upon this great task of breaking and ending the
German aggression； the German legend； the German effigy； and the
effigy business generally； the thesis being that the Allies have
no effigy。 One might fill a thick volume with pictures of men up
the scale and down working loyally and devotedly upon the war； to
make this point clear that the essential king and the essential
loyalty of our side is the commonsense of mankind。
There comes into my head as a picture at the other extreme of
this series； a memory of certain trenches I visited on my last
day in France。 They were trenches on an offensive front； they
were not those architectural triumphs； those homes from home；
that grow to perfection upon the less active sections of the
great line。 They had been first made by men who had run rapidly
forward with spade and rifle； stooping as they ran； who had
dropped into the craters of big shells； who had organised these
chiefly at night and dug the steep ditches sideways to join up
into continuous trenches。 Now they were pushing forward saps
into No Man's Land； linking them across； and so continually
creeping nearer to the enemy and a practicable jumping…off place
for an attack。 （It has been made since； the village at which I
peeped was in our hands a week later。） These trenches were dug
into a sort of yellowish sandy clay； the dug…outs were mere holes
in the earth that fell in upon the clumsy； hardly any timber had
been got up the line； a storm might flood them at any time a
couple of feet deep and begin to wash the sides。 Overnight they
had been 〃strafed〃 and there had been a number of casualties；
there were smashed rifles about and a smashed…up machine gun
emplacement； and the men were dog…tired and many of them sleeping
like logs； half buried in …clay。 Some slept on the firing steps。
As one went along one became aware ever and again of two or three
pairs of clay…yellow feet sticking out of a clay hole； and
peering down one saw the shapes of men like rudely modelled
earthen images of soldiers； motionless in the cave。
I came round the corner upon a youngster with an intelligent face
and steady eyes sitting up on the firing step； awake and
thinking。 We looked at one another。 There are moments when mind
leaps to mind。 It is natural for the man in the trenches
suddenly confronted by so rare a beast as a middle…aged civilian
with an enquiring expression； to feel oneself something of a
spectacle and something generalised。 It is natural for the
civilian to look rather in the vein of saying； 〃Well； how do you
take it？〃 As I pushed past him we nodded slightly with an effect
of mutual understanding。 And we said with our nods just exactly
what General Joffre had said with his horizontal gestures