tural and industrial undertakings, and of public works or works of public utility. In other cases the consent of both sides has to be obtained, but once established the jurisdiction becomes compulsory. An employer who declares a lockout with the object of forcing his employees to agree to modifications of their agreements is punished with from three months' to a year's imprisonment and a fine of from ten thousand to a hundred thousand lire. In the same way three or more employees who leave their work or act in such a way as to disturb its continuity or regularity in order to secure better terms from their employers get from one to three months, and ringleaders not less than one or more than two years, as well as a fine of from two thousand to five thousand lire.

The Syndicates Law, if one can judge by the importance attached to its adoption by the original nucleus of the Fascist Party, is of all super-Fascist laws the most typical. It may therefore be of interest to relate the circumstances that attended its passage through the Chamber. Fascism is like a great river fed by tributaries. Nationalists, Plutocrats, Agrarians, and others have all helped to swell its waters, but it originally started as a little syndicalist stream. Signor Mussolini himself, when editor of the Avanti, was more of a syndicalist than of a reformist Socialist.

The original bill sanctioned compulsory arbitration for agriculture and the public services, but not for industry. The syndicalist wing of the Fascist Party, however, insisted upon its being applied to industry as well. The industrialists resisted for a long time, and the ranks of Fascism itself were split by a regular duel between the industrialists, supported by the Nationalists and other elements of the Right Wing, on the one hand, and the syndicalists and

other elements of the Left, on the other. The industrialists were anxious lest the law - if applied impartially should result in severity or even in injustice to themselves. In the end, however, they capitulated - no doubt they had assurances as to the way in which the law would be interpreted under the Fascist régime. The Fascist deputy, Signor Benni, who is also the president of the Italian Confederation of Industries, expressed his conviction in the Chamber on December 9, 1925, that the 'first effect of the recognition of the syndicates will certainly be to give to the workers, more than to the industrialists, a magnificent instrument for increasing their efficiency as a public and social economic factor.' With regard to compulsory arbitration, he added that it would be 'absolutely impossible for a Labor Court magistrate to form any idea of the multiform and continually changing conditions of industry,' and he finished up with the prediction that 'the application of compulsory arbitration to industry as well would be the beginning of the end for Italian industry.'

Two days later Signor Mussolini himself took up the defense of this law in a powerful speech. The industrialists should, he insisted, accept compulsory arbitration like other people, and the dangers to which Signor Benni had called attention need arouse no anxiety. "Those who hesitate should,' he continued, 'bear in mind the [Fascist] régime and the Government. The workmen's syndicates are Fascist, and if they wish to bear the name of Fascist, and to move under the shade of the lictor, they must control their actions and do nothing to diminish the productive efficiency of the nation, or to create difficulties for the Government. Hence, besides the control that the Fascist syndicates must exercise over themselves, there is also the sovereign control of the

Government.' This assurance satisfied Signor Benni. He withdrew his opposition and accepted compulsory arbitration for industry.

The apparent capitulation of the industrialists was not, however, unconditional. The General Confederation of Industry has become the Fascist Confederation of Industry, but by way of compensation it has obtained a seat on the Grand Council, the highest body in the Fascist hierarchy, and Signor Benni will there be able to protect industrialist interests against Signor Rossoni, the deputy who represents the Fascist workmen's syndicates. It would have been interesting to know what the workers really think of the new law, but this is impossible. The Confederation of Labor has not, like the sections that it used to represent, been formally dissolved; but no Labor journal is any longer in a position to express independent criticism, and congresses and referendums are out of the question. All that can safely be said is that the old leaders of the trade-unions that adhered to the Confederation remain faithful to the ideal of free trade-unions, and that they object in particular to two articles in the new law. The first is the position given to the secretary or president of a trade-union. It is not clear if they are to be elected by the workers, or nominated by the prefect; but it is in any case certain that they must be personæ grate to the prefect, as the latter has the right to annul their appointment. Secondly, it is considered monstrous that workers should all be obliged to pay their annual quota to the syndicates without having the right of joining them. A worker can be refused admission for political reasons.

Just as Fascist doctrine, as explained by Signor Rocco at Perugia, has found its expression on the economic side in the Syndicates Law, on the political side it is represented by a series of en

actments that, by different paths, all make for the same end- the curtailment of the liberties of the individual and the strengthening of the prerogatives of the State and of the Executive. The Government has officially declared its intention of introducing a bill at an early date for the reform of the Senate. It would make the latter an entirely elected body, and have its members elected by the syndicates. Of the fate of the Chamber nothing certain is known, though a strong element in Fascism would like to see it abolished.

But the most open attack that has been made on the representative principle is in the municipal sphere. The Fascist Government held that 'municipalism is an Italian sore, and that the present condition of the small municipalities shows the way in which factious local struggles destroy all sense of the collective good, all respect for justice, and all criterions of economy and wise administration.' It decided to abolish elections and councils in all municipalities with not more than five thousand inhabitants, and to entrust their administration to a podesta nominated by the Government through the prefect of the province. The podesta holds his post for five years, but his term may be extended. A podesta may also be nominated for municipalities with a larger population when for some reason or other their councils have been dissolved twice in two years. The prefect may allow the podesta the assistance of an advisory committee, one third of whose members are directly nominated by himself and the other two thirds by economic bodies, syndicates, and local associations selected also by himself. The functions of this committee are, however, only advisory. Out of 9148 Italian municipalities ranging from Clavières, with fifty-eight inhabitants, to Milan, whose present population is eight hundred and forty

thousand- 7337 will have a podesta, and only 1811 the old elected municipal councils. Thus this new law will bring all local autonomy to an end in 7337 municipalities. The podesta will simply be an official of the central Government. He will exercise plenary powers, and the citizens will no longer have any voice in the administration.

The Prefects Law, like the Podesta Law, is intended to increase the vigilance and strengthen the control of the Executive over every kind of provincial activity. It also imposes upon the prefects of the provinces the duty of taking steps to ensure, in harmony with the general policy of the Government, unity of political action in the development of the various services.' The prefect must accordingly keep in close touch with officials in his province so as 'to impart to them the instructions that are considered expedient.'

We now come to the last of the constructive laws the one that Fascists proudly claim to be the most antidemocratic of all, the Prime Minister Law. Under it the Italian Chambers can no longer even take notice of bills unless they have the approval of the Prime Minister, and the Prime Minister may at any time have passed any measure he wishes, even when the opinion of the Chamber is unfavorable.

The latest super-Fascist law is the Press Law, which endows the prefects with plenary powers to enforce drastic measures, such as sequestration, warn

ing, suspension, and suppression, which are put into effect for political reasons, without any of them being followed by a regular trial. Their effect, and that of a campaign conducted by other methods, has been completely to silence the Opposition press. The great newspapers, whose proprietors have in several cases been forced to dispose of their shares and 'clear out,' have had either to pass over to Fascism or to pledge themselves not to oppose it in any way. No newspaper that dares to call itself Liberal, Democratic, or Constitutional is allowed to appear, and two or three working-class journals, like the Socialist Avanti and the Communist Unità, whose circulation has been reduced by boycotting methods, appear without comments. If they were to make any they would be sequestrated. The so-called Fascistization of the press was completed last December. Doubts about its expediency or wisdom were expressed by several Fascist writers, and on December 30, 1925, the Popolo d'Italia, Signor Mussolini's own organ, in order to still such qualms, published an article that required no signature to reveal its author. After reminding its readers that 'in the life of to-day all the old margins are reduced to an extraordinary degree,' and that 'there is no longer any room for many things that were excellent in other times,' the article concluded with the words: 'To-day, among the things for which there is no room must be included the Opposition.'

THE sixteenth of June, 1917, was a bright, beautiful summer day. Our naval airport, Nordholz, near Cuxhaven, lay enbosomed in idyllic heath-country amid clumps of pines and birches. Its gigantic sheds and grounds basked in the sunshine as if there were nothing but peace and goodwill on earth. Suddenly a wild, warlike shriek, beginning with a deep rumble and rising into a long, shrill tremolo, rent the dreamy atmosphere. Thrice did the siren call.

Thus Mars suddenly strode into the tents of peace, for this was the summons for a raid against England. Files of attendants rushed out of the barracks to the airship sheds, whose doors suddenly yawned wide open as if they had been burst out by the rising roar of the motors within. A moment later two giant Zeppelins slowly emerged. One was the L-48, the newest airship in the navy, to which I had been assigned as watch officer.

As I directed the operation of bringing her out, I studied with proud delight the slender, handsome lines of the giant, six hundred feet long and sixty feet through at its greatest girth. Four gondolas, one on either side, and one fore and one aft in the centre, were suspended below its body. They contained five motors, while the front gondola was reserved for the steersmen

1 From Frankfurter Zeitung Illustriertes Blatt (Liberal daily, pictorial supplement), February 28

Black is the color of night, and black was the color of our ship. Our shield was Darkness, for when she enwrapped the earth and nature and man on moonless nights she announced the hour for us to rise to lofty altitudes and to attack the enemy behind his ancient walls of water.

We did not look forward expectantly to the devastation we planned to wreak. That was in the line of duty, for which we risked our lives. But the real joy in our service was, after all, the charm of nature, the sense of isolation in infinite space in our fragile ship-alone with the heavens above and the waters beneath the earth.

As soon as I boarded the ship, our mooring lines were loosened, propellers began to whirl, and the L-48 rose quickly but majestically in the air. A last wave of the hand, a shout of 'Back to-morrow!' and the North Sea rolled beneath us.

Our course lay due west. We were in the best of spirits, and, though our sailors were superstitious, no one recalled the fact that this was our thirteenth raid. Our sealed orders were opened. They read briefly: 'Attack South England - if possible, London.' Wilhelmshaven appeared on our port side. The vessels of our high-sea fleet,

lying on watch at Schillig Reede, signaled, 'A successful trip.'

The North Friesland Islands came into sight and disappeared behind us. We pushed steadily onward. Slowly the homeland sank into the misty distance, and over Terschelling we found ourselves already in the enemy zone of operation. Only a few days before, the British had surprised and destroyed two of our reconnoitring airships at this point. We rose to the three-thousand-metre level, scanning the air anxiously in all directions, but discovered no sign of the enemy.

On and on. Our motors hummed rhythmically, our propellers whistled. It gradually became darker. The last rays of the sun gilded the waves and a light mist spread like a thin veil over the earth, making it difficult to pick up our bearings. We had gradually risen to five thousand metres, and were close to the southeastern coast of England. But it was still too light for our purpose, so we were forced to bear away from land and wait for darkness. Suddenly a heavy thunderstorm swept over England. Flashes of lightning a kilometre long rent the clouds. This wonderful scene lasted but a few minutes and then passed on, but when we resumed our course we discovered that there had been a violent atmospheric disturbance, and that the direction of the wind had suddenly changed and we were bucking a strong southwest gale that impeded our progress.

By this time it was perfectly dark, and we crossed the English coast in the vicinity of Harwich. Silver-white streaks of surf were clearly visible beneath us, so that we could easily follow the contours of the coast. But everything else was absolute blackness; not a light was visible.

We knew, therefore, that an alarm had been given. Millions of people

were aware of our coming and were preparing to give us a warm reception. We made our last preparations. Signals rang through the ship, 'Full speed ahead,' 'Clear ship for battle.' Now for the luck of war!

By this time it was bitterly cold, the temperature having fallen seventy-two degrees since we left Germany, and we shivered even in our heavy clothing. At our high altitude, moreover, we breathed with great difficulty, and in spite of our oxygen flasks several members of the crew became unconscious. Nevertheless we pushed on steadily against the southwest wind, driving our machines at their full power. But June nights are short in England, and our chances of reaching London grew constantly less. Suddenly a starboard propeller stopped, and an engineer reported that the motor had broken down.

As our forward motor was also knocking badly, we had to give up London. Thereupon one bit of bad luck followed another. Our compass froze and we had great difficulty in keeping our bearings. At length we decided to attack Harwich, which lay diagonally ahead of us wrapped in a light stratum of fog. So we made for the leeward of the town in order to cross over quickly with the wind behind us. It was 2 A.M., and our altitude was 5600 metres, or nearly eighteen thousand feet.

When we swung around and pointed directly for Harwich it was as still as death in the gondola. All nerves were tense. The only sounds that broke the silence were low orders to the steersman from time to time. Suddenly somebody woke up below us. Twenty or thirty searchlights flashed out in unison, thrusting long, white, groping, luminous arms into the air. They clutched hastily and nervously, crossed each other, passed so close to