April 23, 1919

This has been Fiume week; the air is filled with rumors and with counter rumors; an explosion is expected any hour. There is nothing in sight that suggests a settlement, and yet, with but a little good will on both sides, it should not be difficult. Gallovresi, one of Orlando’s secretaries, has just been in and he has, I think, spilled the beans. He says in view of what d’Annunzio is shouting throughout the length and breadth of Italy, Orlando is quite convinced that unless he secures the coveted port Italy will go Bolshevik and, while the Prime Minister does not stress this point, that he will then be out of a job.

When House saw Clemenceau this afternoon, he took up the matter, although it is one on which the Tiger does not talk with his usual frankness. He did say, however, that in the stress of war his predecessor and the English statesmen had promised Italy practically the earth, but not Fiume. “I told Orlando last week that he thought I was the sainted King Stanislas of Poland who, when he was bitten by a dog, not only pardoned the animal but gave him a chunk of cheese in addition. Well, my name is Georges, not Stanislas. I am not giving cheese to the boys who scampered away from Caporetto. I shall live up to our treaty pledge, and in addition I shall convey a frank expression of my profound contempt. But I shall give no extras.

“In his Fourteen Points Wilson promised to Italy ‘a rectification of her frontiers according to the recognized lines of nationality’; but unfortunately, these lines are far from clear.” Reflecting, Clemenceau continued:

“Have you ever thought, my dear House, how absurdly patient the poor hoodwinked people are? Rarely, very rarely, do they hang a diplomat. And I beg you to view what Italian diplomacy is doing now. These absurd disciples of Machiavelli are replacing the traditional enemy, the white-coated Austrians whom we have destroyed for their benefit, with the valiant Serbs. It’s an exchange they will live to regret. But our hands are tied. If they insist upon sticking fiery barbs into the proud flesh of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes there is nothing we can do about it; we are bound by the terms of our bond. Of course, I have dropped and shall continue to drop words of warning into the big ears of Orlando. I tell him he is making a poor exchange; that the South Slavs are valiant fighters; that if they are provoked, they will prove a very different enemy from the motley Austro-Hungarian conglomeration we have just put out of existence. But he, poor simpleton, only listens to the mobs in the piazzas who shout: ‘We want Fiume—evviva Italia irredenta.’“

As a matter of fact, the Tiger is bored and at times quite appalled by the outlook. Yesterday he said to me: “Perhaps you recall that in 1917 I said: ‘Those Austrian statesmen have putrid consciences.’ I was right; but there are many others whose consciences deserve to be classed in the same category. How I would like to retire into the Vendée and write a sequel to my philosophy of history (Le Grand Pan)— that would be a hair-raiser. That would make the dust fly. But just because ‘je faisais la guerre,’ they tell me I must make the peace. I hope we shall be successful, but it is going to be difficult, most difficult.”

As a matter of fact, the Adriatic problem is more complicated than it appears even from the Tiger’s presentation of it. By the Eleventh Point Wilson promised Serbia free access to the sea—at least a port on the Adriatic—and the Serbs and many others assert that Fiume is the only port half-way suitable. But then, in Point Nine, he boldly guaranteed “a readjustment of Italy’s frontiers along clearly recognizable lines of nationality.” Here a head-on collision between the Italian claims of “nationality” and the promise of the President is only too apparent.

It may be true, as Sonnino asserts, that during the armistice negotiations he, Sonnino, made a reservation on the Ninth Point, but although present I did not hear him, and certainly the record is far from clear. Nobody apparently heard him; perhaps because no one was paying attention to Italy at the moment (we were dealing with Germany). Yet here is developing a rift in the foundation wall which may bring down the whole peace edifice. I have again suggested to House that the disputed city be placed under the sponsorship of the League with a fixed date for a plebiscite ten or fifteen years hence. To us looking at it from a distance and disregarding the undoubted fact that Fiume has become a symbol of victory (or defeat) to the excited people of Italy, it seems an excellent arrangement; but it is certain neither of the contenders will like it. House told the President last week that in his judgment the only way to keep Italy out of Fiume was “a military occupation or perhaps a naval demonstration. In this neither Britain nor France will take part. Do we want to do it alone?” he asked.

The President remained silent; so did House, but clearly, he thinks we should do it—or shut up.