April 28, 1919

Even for those who were present and heard the uproar and witnessed the resulting disorganization in the ranks of the peacemakers, it is hard to understand and consequently most difficult to describe what has happened in Paris during what the Italians call the “Passion Week of 1919.” It is certain, however, that President Wilson, in publishing to the world, although it was addressed to the Italian people, his views on the Adriatic problem that denied the right of Italy to claim Fiume, set off a time bomb the course and explosive qualities of which should not have been difficult to foresee. Even before the extremely unfavorable reception of the document in Rome was apparent, there were not a few who announced that Wilson had smashed the Peace Conference and that the Americans had better go home. The storm of fury that broke upon the President’s head evidently surprised him, although Colonel House, who had sensed the high explosives which the document contained, had urged him to start his campaign by first reading the manifesto to Clemenceau and to Lloyd George. This he had apparently done at an official meeting, and, in the judgment of the President, they had both concurred in the statements made and fully approved of the views expressed.

Indeed, according to the President, Lloyd George went even farther. He (George) spoke of a memorandum which at his suggestion Balfour had drawn up in which the Italian pretensions to Fiume were combatted, even more vigorously than in the Wilsonian text. The President had understood Lloyd George to say that he would publish this memorandum within a few hours with a statement demonstrating his complete approval of the President’s position. His (the President’s) impression was that M. Clemenceau had concurred in the views expressed but had made no announcement as to what action he would take.

In view of the fact that no formal records of the words exchanged, much less of the agreement reached, were kept, it is not surprising that the recollections of the distinguished participants in the conference are widely divergent. Mr. Wilson was impressed with M. Clemenceau’s desire to keep in the background for reasons which he understood and respected. He had stated several times to the President that by the act of his predecessor France was a party to the Pact of London, providing for the division of spoils in anticipation of that victory which admittedly hung fire until America entered the war. The Tiger on several occasions had shown a reluctance to discuss the problem, but he had made it quite clear that Italy alone could release France from her given word. On the other hand, the President was quite certain that Lloyd George had pledged himself and his government to back up the American view and to hold the Adriatic bridge with him.

The President’s argument was as follows: He insisted that the events of the last few months had completely transformed the Adriatic problem and that it should now be settled in the new spirit that was abroad in Europe, in fact in the world. He pointed out that the once powerful Austro-Hungarian monarchy had disappeared. He argued consequently that the Treaty of London, drawn up in the stress of a dark period in the war and designed as a protective bulwark for the submerged nationalities against a predatory power, then powerful and rampant but now destroyed, should be canceled. He suggested that the proposal of cancellation might best come from Italy, but as this was not the case, he made the suggestion himself.

Orlando, quite sincerely no doubt, chose to regard the manifesto as a direct appeal to the Italian people over his head. He told House that it was an invitation to the electorate in his country to repudiate their representatives in Paris and the government that had sent them there. All the Italian newspaper correspondents in Paris, with whom hitherto he had not been a favorite, rallied to his support when he stated that the manifesto was a challenge to his authority and that his position was: “The Italian people must choose between my leadership and that of Wilson.”

It was not long before the first extremely sensational newspaper dispatches from Rome were confirmed by our official advices. Apparently, the Italian people had reached an immediate decision, and it was wholly unfavorable to our President; many of the avenues and streets in Italy which had so recently been given the name of Wilson, the Liberator, were “de-baptized” in short order. And suddenly, overnight, Orlando and even his colleague, Sonnino, so generally disliked both at home and abroad, became immensely popular; civic crowns were voted them by many municipalities, and the cities awarded them the palms which are only given to those who have deserved well of their country. When Orlando, having walked out on the Conference [he returned May 6], arrived in Rome seeking a renewal of his mandate, he tasted for him the unusual sweets of unbounded popularity. While it is true he made the effort, he could not divest the ovations which he received of a distinctly anti-Wilson character.

The President was distressed at the uproar. But he was not the man to bow his head to the storm nor to seek to explain away the charges of insolent interference in matters which did not directly concern him. In fact, he stood by his guns and told our newspapermen and all others who were entitled to hear his views (although he stated he deplored further newspaper controversy at such a delicate moment) that a vital factor in the peace settlement was in the balance; that the future peace of Europe, and hence of America, was at stake; that he would fight with the weapons of diplomacy for the only proper settlement of the Adriatic problem just as stoutly as he had fought for it with men and ships and money before the Armistice was declared.

Isolated as he now found himself, Mr. Wilson was naturally most anxious to learn what had happened to the British co-operation that was pledged and the unqualified support of the Balfour memorandum that had been announced and, as he thought, promised. Many steps were taken to clear up this mystery, and some of them are doubtless unknown to me; I can, therefore, only relate with confidence those that were taken by me under instructions from Colonel House. Lloyd George was absent when I called at his residence, but all, or nearly all, of his secretaries were on hand. They seemed to have been mobilized in large numbers to meet the emergency. As they understood the agreement—or understanding—between Lloyd George and Wilson, the latter’s manifesto was to have been released for publication in the morning papers of April 24 (as to the exact date, I am, as were they, not quite certain). Unhappily, they stated, the document had been sent out by the American press bureau so early on the afternoon of the day previous to the agreed date for release that it had been published in almost all the evening papers of Europe on that day. I had to admit that this was unfortunately true; that someone had been careless. “But,” I said, “which is the press bureau that has not been guilty of similar acts of inconsiderate haste? And after all, what of it? Could not the Prime Minister of England endorse a manifesto which through the impetuosity of one of Wilson’s subordinates had been published something like ten hours ahead of schedule?”

Now, as always, my colleagues of the British mission were frank and aboveboard, and they agreed that even after this trifling contretemps (mischance) the Prime Minister could co-operate; but, as a matter of fact, orders had been received from him which canceled all previous instructions on the matter. “Our slate is wiped clean and we can’t do a thing until we hear from him again. He has gone to the country and we do not expect to hear from him very soon.”

“Indeed,” said one of these merry wights, “the last word we had was to the effect that we are not likely to hear from him for some time.”

This concluded our business interview, but we then, as often before, resolved ourselves into a “common council” of the younger and, as we thought, more intelligent set and began to speculate as to the motives behind the enigmatic moves of the great men with whom we were associated. One of these charming fellows said:

“My guess is L. G. decided it would not be dignified to come steaming along in Wilson’s wake a day or so late; perhaps he will barge in, however, when the atmosphere has cleared up a bit; when he learns that you fellows were not trying to steal a march on him.”

Then another of the bright boys chuckled: “You see, we got the roar from Rome early in the evening, long before we had said ‘goodnight’ to London, and perhaps L. G. thought it was no use for him to rush in among the brickbats, and so he told us to lay off, but later on, of course . .