Foreign News: The Latin Brothers

The invitation from Italy was nearly a year old, but with his customary talent for the dramatic, President Charles de Gaulle of France had waited for just the right occasion to stage his first state visit abroad. On June 24, 100 years ago, Emperor Napoleon III defeated the Austrians at Solferino alongside Sardinia’s little Victor Emmanuel II, who two years later became the first king of a united Italy. Off went the imperial message to Paris—”Great battle, great victory!”—though it had been such a blood bath that a Swiss traveler, Henri Dunant, shocked by the lack of medical facilities, hastily set up the beginnings of what became the International Red Cross. Like most European reminders of past alliances, this 19th century campaign had its awkward details (Napoleon III had then grabbed Nice and Savoy for himself), but De Gaulle was happy to invoke the memories of Magenta and Solferino as he landed in his sleek Caravelle jet plane at Milan’s Malpensa Airport.

Magnificent Harvest. Greeted by President Giovanni Gronchi and a 101-cannon salute, De Gaulle, a paunchy but majestic figure, made his triumphant way through the cheering streets of Milan. The French Tricolor fluttered from windows; there were Arches of Triumph made out of flowers, and at least one made out of cake. At Magenta, De Gaulle inspected the 4th Regiment of the plumed Italian Bersaglieri, whose predecessors fought there a century ago. Near Solferino, he and President Gronchi lunched at a villa where Napeleon III and Victor Emmanuel gloated over a victory banquet that had been set for the Emperor of Austria, who never got around to it.

“The blood of your soldiers, which flowed in waves here,” blared De Gaulle’s voice over a thousand Lombardy loudspeakers, “and the blood of ours went to raise a double and magnificent harvest: the independence of Italy and the Latin brotherhood.”

Moving on to Rome, De Gaulle, a devout Catholic, met his old friend, onetime papal nuncio in Paris, now Pope John XXIII, who bestowed upon him the diamond-studded collar of the Supreme Order of Christ, the highest Vatican order, which only a dozen people have received since John XXII gave out the first one in 1319. “To find such a figure,” glowed the Vatican’s Osservatore Romano about De Gaulle, “one would have to go back to Charlemagne.”

Grand Illusion. But De Gaulle apparently had more in mind than protocol splendor and ancient memories. On the seven-hour train trip from Milan to Rome, he took up with an unenthusiastic Gronchi his notions of “Latin brotherhood.” He hinted grandly of the benefits of a Mediterranean pact with Italy, and possibly Spain, Tunisia and Morocco. He dangled before his host’s eyes France’s own imminent entry into the “nuclear club,” and seemed to share Le Monde’s strange illusion that “Italian leaders desire France to be the natural spokesman for Italy.”

But the Italians have oil ambitions of their own in the Arab Middle East, and would not think of jeopardizing them by getting involved in the Algerian question. They are happy to be buddies of France in NATO and the European Common Market, but Italians are not interested in undertaking any new adventures under the leadership of De Gaulle, preferring their U.S. connection more.

In a speech timed to coincide with De Gaulle’s arrival in Rome, Foreign Minister Giuseppe Pella declared with as much bluntness as he dared: “We shall continue to contribute to the North Atlantic alliance, the most effective instrument to discourage aggressors . . . We are happy to see continued good progress in our relations with the countries of the Middle East and North Africa.”