Paris, July, 1925

The acute stage of the Adriatic problem soon passed, or rather, I should say, it was passed over. Although unsolved, it was displaced on the agenda by the more urgent, although not more important, questions of the future of the Saar, Belgian priority in reparations, and then Shantung. I never asked M. Clemenceau for his permission to publish any of the revealing statements in regard to Fiume that he made to me in the course of these confidential conversations, which were intended exclusively for the information of my chief, and of course I never published them or in any way indicated that such statements had been made. It was his pleasure and his wish that all these matters should be regarded as confidential. Frankly, I admit that, concerning this conversation, I pestered him many times for permission to print, but he would always dart off on some amusing tangent and permission was never forthcoming. Like most “old newspapermen,” he had a horror of the modern hair-trigger reporter and a great distrust of amateur news gatherers.

Clemenceau gave me unstinted praise for respecting his confidence in this and several other matters that if published at the time would have proved world sensations. While amused at my persistence now he remained firm in his refusal to let me make public what I thought was the important lesson to be drawn from his decision to stand aside at the time of the Italian crisis. In 1925, when I stayed with him for some days in the Vendée, I returned to the attack and we had what he called a battle royal on the subject. I told him that my conscience troubled me, that I thought the deduction that could and undoubtedly should be drawn from his action at this time would strengthen the League of Nations and by the spread of understanding would help along the cause of peace. It would demonstrate, I argued, that the world needed the United States in the League, not because she was so rich and powerful or so “good,” but because, owing to her happy geographical position, she was the only great power that could insist upon the truth as she saw it without being forced to move armies to her frontiers.

“Well, you can tell it when I’m gone from this vale of tears—but not now. You will not have to wait long. You are terribly insistent and hopeful, just like that heavy artilleryman who during the war was always clamoring for the manufacture, intensive, extensive, and oh, so expensive, of heavy guns, which never could be brought up to where they were needed by any power that was available. I fear it will be equally difficult now to get the League into anything like effective action, since your good people in America abandoned it on the doorstep of Europe.”

Then he rehearsed what was said at our midnight conference, which, as I thought, if made public, would help in the pacification of a distracted world.

“Yes, you wanted me to second something that Wilson, a free-lance in European affairs, had said about the Adriatic problem. I agreed that what Wilson said was true and even wise, but I added that Iwas bound to a different course by a treaty as solemn as any France ever entered upon. It was in anticipation of the fulfillment of this treaty, you must remember, that brought the Italians into the war on our side, and you may remember at the time we assumed this would be helpful to our just cause. How different was the position of Wilson! He was merely associated with our general war purposes, but as far as this treaty was concerned, of which officially he was ignorant, he was as free as air. And I did tell you that I was tempted, only I saw very clearly that before I joined in on this adventure, I would have to talk with Weygand about how many army divisions we could send to the Italian frontier. That, you must admit, would not have been a pleasing conclusion to our peace powwow.

“I admit that your memory of what I said further at this time is correct. Wilson was right; the disappearance of the Austro-Hungarian Empire had put an entirely new face upon the European situation, certainly upon the Adriatic problem, and I hoped that Italy would release us from the obligation, which in a critical moment of great stress we had assumed. I talked to Orlando in that sense, not once, but several times. But I could not ignore the fact that this treaty carried with it the signature of France, duly authenticated, and that only Italy could release us from its provisions.

“When later we talked over the fiasco, and fiasco it certainly was, I comforted Wilson with the thought that the question could be taken up at an early meeting of the League, under Article 19 of the Covenant, which provides for a reconsideration of treaties which with the passage of time and the change in conditions have failed of their purpose, or, as is clearly the case in this instance, have developed into a menace to peace. And he told me that this was his purpose. Then you abandoned Wilson, and later on, as it seems to me, you abandoned Europe. I was disappointed, but, I confess, not surprised. Just as I was compelled to look at the Adriatic problem from the standpoint of our national responsibilities and pledges, so you were forced to look at the European scene, later on, from your traditional transatlantic standpoint of aloofness.

“Had Wilson said to me, as he seems to have said to Lloyd George and most certainly did not say to me, ‘Clemenceau, will you make common cause with me?’ I would have been compelled to answer, ‘Mr. President, most certainly not, but from the bottom of my heart I wish you luck.’ And I am afraid that is the attitude and the feeling of the great majority of Americans as they view the turmoil in Europe today.”