Minister, Sidney Sonnino (who at a certain moment abandoned the Conference in protest against the terms which were far from favourable for Italy). On 28th June, 1919 the Italian delegation, together with the others, signed the final peace treaty and my husband’s signature can still be recognized today together with the others on the final document which is kept in the archives of the French State. He was very proud of this fact; although, privately, he used to say with disapproval that it had been a “mutilated” victory for Italy.
FOWEY HARBOUR
We went to Cornwall every year; we often visited Torquay, Falmouth, Plymouth and Dartmouth, the home of the Naval Academy for Officers of the Royal Navy which Guglielmo admired so much. All the same, he was proud to be a Rear Admiral of the Italian Navy and thought highly of our own Naval Academy at Livorno. When we were at Dartmouth we often entertained high ranking naval officers who enjoyed coming on board the Elettra.
However, our favourite place, the one we loved the most, was Fowey Harbour. Fowey is a fishing village on the south-west coast of Cornwall, built on both banks of the River Fowey near the estuary. The sea and the river at Fowey are green and so are both banks of the river. In summer the leafy willows droop gracefully into the water.
The village is very old and the houses are small and low, lined up along the river bank. Every family has a fishing boat moored in front of the house and in order to get into their houses the fishermen climb up a wooden ladder attached to the wall and held up by ropes. The only inhabitants of this quiet and peaceful village are fishermen and their families whose hard-working lives revolve around fishing. They have been living there happily for generations. The old church and the little flower-filled cemetery lie not far away. This is the real, old England.
Fowey was a haven for both of us. Guglielmo went on with his experiments while I read a lot. We used to interrupt the peace of those days with short boat trips along the river in the Thornicroft motorboat. There were delightful little inlets where the trees and greenery on the banks were reflected in the still water giving a refreshing and restful feeling. How often during the rest of the year would Guglielmo remember nostalgically Fowey’s beauty and tranquillity!
There was only one other person who loved the village as much as we did. This was the great actor, Sir Gerald Du Maurier who had chosen it as his retreat. He had built himself a house on the river-bank which appeared to be in a grotto. The sitting-room was almost at water level on the natural rocks. The rooms were like those of the local fishermen but every comfort was provided. Sir Gerald Du Maurier used to spend the weekends there with his family. It was always a pleasure for us to visit them. Guglielmo enjoyed himself in that typically seaside house and we spent many happy hours in its informal atmosphere. The Du Mauriers were a charming family and when we were at Fowey they often came to lunch with us on board the Elettra. We were all very cheerful. Daphne, Sir Gerald and Lady Du Maurier’s daughter, was then a fair-haired and very lively young girl; she used to have fun climbing on the yacht’s rigging. She was so graceful and agile that it was a pleasure to watch her. In those days I would never have thought that she would become a great writer and win such popularity with her famous novel “Rebecca”.
THE ILLUMINATION OF SYDNEY, 26th March, 1930
My husband was gifted with a self control and a presence of mind which never deserted him, even on days when important events were taking place.
Guglielmo and I were very close. We complemented one another and for this reason we always wanted to be together. Our mutual love was so strong and profound that we could not bear to be separated for long. During the spring that preceded the birth of our daughter Elettra, my physical endurance was put to the test. When it was certain that I was expecting a baby, Guglielmo thought it was too dangerous for me to go to sea. He did not want to leave me alone and in a serious and firm tone of voice he said to me, “I have decided to give up my research on board the Elettra. I will stay with you somewhere on land”. I knew, however, that he was working on some important experiments at that time and in order not to interrupt his great work I insisted on taking the risk of going with him. So in March, as usual, I went on board the Elettra with him. Since I was expecting a baby I felt terribly sick whenever the sea was rough and I also felt tired and unwell because of the strong vibrations and the noise when the generators which were necessary for my husband’s experiments started up. I often had to lie down on the deck. Guglielmo was anxious about me and decided I should have my mother with me. As usual her presence was invaluable and gave us great peace of mind.
Finally, on 26th March 1930 in Genova, my sacrifice was rewarded. I was able to be present at the wonderful, unforgettable moment when Guglielmo, from the radio station on board the Elettra, touched the key which simultaneously lit up the thousands of electric light bulbs of the Town Hall and the World Exhibition at Sydney in Australia. We were on board the Elettra, anchored in the little ‘Duca degli Abruzzi’ harbour in front of the Italian Yacht Club of which we were members.
The evening before Guglielmo went to bed as usual around half past ten and fell asleep at once, just as if he had nothing special to do the next day. He slept soundly without ever waking, breathing deeply and regularly, until the morning. He woke up at half past seven, well-rested and calm. He had his usual English breakfast, consisting of tea with milk, two eggs boiled for precisely three minutes (they had to be just so) and toast with butter and marmalade. Then he went to the yacht’s radio station, his laboratory; looked at the barometer, checked the temperature and concentrated on the short-wave experiment which was planned.
The appointment with Sydney was fixed for eleven o’clock in the morning which was eight o’clock in the evening in Australia. I can still see the Elettra’s big radio cabin with the tall heavy apparatus of the short-wave “beam system” which formed the receiving and transmitting station--the only one in existence in the world at that time--as well as the large high-kilowatt valves; on one side of the cabin there was a table with a push-button, radio sets and headphones. Guglielmo was standing by his desk, calm, smiling and sure of himself; he had complete faith in the successful outcome of his research which, by then, he had been working on for a long time. My husband’s experimental scientific work and the preparations to set up this exceptional contact with Australia had been long and tiring. Various dignitaries were present, including the Prefect and the Mayor of Genova, the British and Australian Consuls, as well as the Captain of the Elettra, Girolamo Stagnaro, the ship’s officers, the Chief Engineer, Giuseppe Vigo, as well as many representatives of the Italian and foreign press. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the outcome of Marconi’s exceptional experiment which had kept the whole world in suspense for the past few days. It was destined to mark a very important stage in the field of radiocommunications.
Guglielmo sent a message by radio telephony to Australia, where the excitement about the event was intense. Speaking in English, he said, “It is a great pleasure for me to perform the ceremony of officially illuminating the symbol of the new project of the Association for the Radioelectric Development of New South Wales. The switches of the lighting system of the Town Hall of the City of Sydney will be activated by means of radio-telegraphy from the yacht, Elettra, which is at present in the Mediterranean at Genova. By pressing a key on board the Elettra I will automatically release a “wave train” through the ‘beam system” of the radio station in England, which will be received practically instantaneously at Rockbank in the State of Victoria in Australia. This impulse will be automatically re-transmitted on Australian territory over five hundred and fifty miles in a straight line to the Town Hall of Sydney, where I will provoke the intake of energy in the light circuit”.
I was standing not far from my husband. In the meantime, the group of journalists on the deck of the Elettra had become a crowd. At eleven o’clock sharp Marconi pressed a key, and immediately in the silence of the radio station, through the headphones, we heard the voice of Mr Fisk in Sydney, “All well! Wonderful! The leaves are falling here and there in Italy it is spring”. Guglielmo turned to
