April 29, 1919

I was now told by House to take up the matter with Clemenceau and did so that evening. This was not difficult. For many weeks my visits to the Tiger were a matter of almost daily, or rather nightly, routine. For while the Prime Minister of France had resumed his attendance at the conference of the Big Four, Colonel House had held that this intimate channel of communication after the day’s work was done, which had been initiated after Clemenceau was shot [February 19, 1919], was still valuable and that in certain emergencies it might prove even more so. Thus, my visits were maintained.

The incident I am about to describe was certainly interesting, but as my mission was far from successful, I must sacrifice my reputation as a negotiator to the drama of the after-midnight scene. When I was shown in by Albert, I found the Tiger in his small study, installed in his large armchair where, half reclining, he could, because of the wound still troubling him, rest and even sleep more comfortably than in his bed. He was wearing the old wrapper and the famous slippers, and on his head was the cap which he called his “day and night cap.” As I came in, I found him grumbling about the inherent cussedness of books, for like most men with a large and disordered library he could never find the volume he wanted.

“C’est agaçant” he grunted. “In the morning, as usual, I shall have to send to the publisher for another copy and doubtless he’ll say, ‘Out of print,’ as most good books are. ‘You must apply at the Bibliothèque Nationale.’“

As I got down to the purpose of my visit, the Tiger listened very attentively. At my recital of the rôle, which in the light of the facts, as far as we knew them, Lloyd George had played, he grunted again. And then:

“I certainly concurred in every statement that Mr. Wilson made, but it was the spokesman of the great associated Power who was speaking. The spokesman of one of the Allied Powers could not speak in that independent way, and I never dreamt for a moment that Mr. Wilson thought that we could. If we did, the whole fabric of the alliance which had at last brought us through the furnace of the World War would have crashed. I won’t say I wasn’t tempted. I was. Wilson’s attitude was straightforward, honest, and true. Yes, for a moment I was tempted to cut my cables, to cast off the old shackles and with him plunge into the unknown. But, no, the thing was impossible. We had fought to uphold the sanctity of treaties and we were trying to erect a barrier against future wars. I saw clearly what it would mean if I went back on my pledges and seconded Wilson. Well, in the first place, it would mean that before I said a word, I would have to send at least four divisions of troops to the Italian frontier. Things are very ticklish there today, to say the least, and I should think that the dangerous situation in Europe would be patent even to hopeful American eyes. The Spartacists in Germany, who are trying to overthrow the Weimar Republic, are openly working for an alliance with Soviet Russia against Western Europe. Many think they have already achieved it; the outbreak of war between the victors in the great conflict is by no means an impossibility, and that would indeed be a sad conclusion to our battle to end war.

“Let me illustrate the situation by reminding you of an incident that occurred some ten days ago, which for obvious reasons we have not stressed. One of our most irresponsible boulevard sheets published a canard to the effect that I was opposing Italian war aims. When the rumor reached Italy, even though it was immediately and officially denied and although Orlando announced that he had no cause of complaint against me, anti-French riots broke out in many Italian towns. In Leghorn a mob attacked a small detachment of our soldiers, the very men who had been sent to Italy after the Caporetto disaster to save them. Some of our men were killed and a large number were wounded before order was restored. No, things are ticklish. It is touch and go; we must move very cautiously. From the beginning, I wished Wilson success, but I could not participate in his adventure.* And now that the failure of his well-meant move is notorious, the only way I can help is to stand by, not jump overboard with Wilson, but talk quietly with Orlando, reason with him as best I can, and that I shall do.”