February 22d (Saturday)

Georges Mandel, regarded by some as Clemenceau’s fidus Achates (by those who like him not as the “Tiger’s jackal”), came in after lunch with an urgent message from the wounded Premier, and at two-thirty I accompanied Colonel House to his lair in the Rue Franklin, named after our Benjamin, who guided American diplomacy with such skill throughout the Revolution. It is in the Passy quarter where Franklin lived during his fruitful sojourn in Paris and is still redolent of memories of the truly great man who said “there never was a good war or a bad peace.” I have these words frequently on my lips when, as is so often the case, pessimistic critics of the current negotiations call. As on my previous visit, the Tiger was seated in an armchair because his wound does not permit him to lie down. He was wrapped up in an old army blanket and the same unchanged foulard was twisted around his neck. He had on his characteristic skullcap and the gray gloves. He was as gay as a cricket and announced that he would attend the meeting of the Council on Monday although no one, least of all the worried doctors, thinks he will be able to do so. When House mentioned the opinion of the medicos the Tiger roared with laughter: “They are a gang of jackasses!” he shouted, “and who knows this better than I? Was I not a member of their gang for twenty years? Listen, mes amis, to a frank confession: I am responsible for many crimes, indeed for downright murders. Not in war, as many suppose, but in the piping days of peace, during the years I practiced what they call the healing art, in Montmartre.”

He drew the Colonel to him and went on in English: “The slogan now is full speed ahead. As I cannot lie down since that madman shot me (the attentat took place three days before), I just naturally will not let anybody else lie down. I shall insist upon a little speed being turned on. I am confident that if we Americans’ and the British and the French would only get together we could push through the Peace Treaty with Germany in a very few days and then we would be at liberty to take up the arrangements with Austria, Turkey, and the Bulgars—and those fellows should not detain us for long.”

Unfortunately at this moment Signor Sonnino burst into the room and began to talk about Italy’s claims, which he feared could not be properly formulated until we could see the situation more clearly.

Here the Tiger groaned and for the first time admitted he was in pain. To me he whispered, “It feels like an Italian stiletto,” and then he turned and began to tease his patient and adoring nurse, Sister Theoneste, with his bizarre views on heaven and hell.

On our return to the Crillon, Frank Hitchcock was there, a former Postmaster General and a power in the inner circles of the Republican party. The Colonel greeted him cordially and offered him every facility to visit the army at Coblenz and to inspect the peace proceedings in Paris. When Hitchcock had gone, the Colonel reflected aloud: “Frank is here looking for weak spots. I trust his eyesight is not good.”