The destiny of border towns is often to be
caught in the flow of contrasting forces and
nationalities, not quite here nor there. In
today’s Geographics, we will explore a town
that was on the border of two kingdoms, on
the border between the Great War and a fragile
peace, on the border of violent totalitarianism
and the most egalitarian of democracies. Welcome
to the Croatian port city of Rijeka, previously
known as Fiume.
For 16 months, from September 1919 to December
1920, this charming Adriatic city, overlooking
the Gulf of Kvarner became the epicentre of
one of the major crises of the inter-war period.
Previously, on ‘The War to End All Wars’
…
But before we get to that crisis, let’s
recap what led to it.
I will not offend your vast knowledge of 19th
and 20th century history by retelling the
events that led to the start of the Great
War, or World War I, in August of 1914. I
will just remind you that at its start, the
Kingdom of Italy was a neutral country.
Why am I introducing Italy now? This country
shared a border with Austria-Hungary and had
territorial claims over the provinces of Trento
and Trieste for decades. Trieste bordered
the Istrian peninsula and Dalmatia, and ethnic
Italians constituted the relative, sometimes
absolute majority in several towns of the
area.
Fiume, just south of Istria, and on the Dalmatian
coast, was one of these towns.
Both opposing sides in the War courted Italy
into joining their faction. In the end, the
Entente won the courtship by promising an
enticing war booty. This was sanctioned in
the secret Treaty of London, in April 1915.
The Kingdom of Italy was promised the annexation
of Trento, Trieste, Istria, and central Dalmatia,
among other territories, in the event of an
allied victory against the Austro-Hungarian
Empire.
And so, on the May 24, 1915, Italy declared
war on Vienna and Budapest.
It took 42 months of Alpine trench warfare,
but by November 1918, the Italian Army broke
through and the crumbling Austro-Hungarian
Empire was forced to sign an armistice.
The Italian Government was wetting its lips
in preparation for all those juicy bits of
new territory, and the Entente powers had
no issue in handing over Trento, Trieste and
the Istrian peninsula to Rome, but when it
came to Dalmatia, US President Woodrow Wilson
opposed the annexation, based on the principle
of self-determination.
Dalmatia was a majority Croatian region, and
so it rightfully belonged to the newborn Kingdom
of Serbs, Slovenes and Croats, later known
as Yugoslavia.
Based on the same principle, the Dalmatian
port of Fiume should have gone to Italy, right?
Its population was 60% Italian. And since
the end of 1918, these Italian Fiumans had
been demonstrating and campaigning for Roman
annexation. Their plight had been supported
by intellectuals, artists, and even a popular
newspaper editor named Benito Mussolini.
But this new demand met with both US and French
opposition.
Fiume was never mentioned in the treaty of
London, so this territorial claim was not
legitimate. And Fiume was the second most
important port on the Adriatic, after Trieste,
a vital outlet for the newly formed Yugoslavia.
In March 1919, the Italian delegation left
negotiations in utter disgust, which could
have been planned as a form of dramatic gesture.
Italian Prime Minister V. E. Orlando and his
Foreign Secretary Sidney Sonnino were probably
expecting Wilson to come chasing after them,
going ‘Please don’t go guys, stay with
us, it’s not as fun without you!’
But no. Wilson, French Prime Minister Georges
Clemenceau and his British counterpart, David
Lloyd George, must have been relieved to have
those two pains in the butt removed from their
conference.
Meanwhile in Fiume …
Orlando’s Government was replaced by a new
cabinet in Rome, headed by F. S. Nitti. This
new Prime Minister was more accepting of Wilson’s
principle of self-determination and would
do his best to prevent a crisis from developing
in Fiume. Knowing that part of the Italian
troops stationed in the city were supportive
of the annexation, he invited French, British,
and American contingents to the restless city
to counterbalance any possible military takeovers.
This forceful cohabitation of troops led to
some tense confrontations and even brawling,
especially between Italian and French soldiers
in the local brothels.
Some Italian dissenters preferred to plot
in the shadows rather than slugging it out
in some house of ill repute. One of them was
captain Giovanni Host-Venturi. Since May of
1919, Host-Venturi had been in touch with
someone who would become a key asset to the
cause of Fiume.
This contact was a senior officer, a Lieutenant-Colonel
and decorated war hero of the Italian Army.
He was also a nationalist activist, someone
who had been campaigning for an Italian Fiume
since the Armistice, who had warned about
the risk of a ‘mutilated victory’. Before
the start of the war, he had been an incredibly
popular poet, novelist, playwright, an inspiring
and charismatic figure with a tight grip on
the press and public opinion.
And since May, this Poet had moved to Venice,
a few hours drive from Fiume, to be closer
to the action, waiting for the right time
to intervene.
At the end of August of 1919, after yet another
bloody confrontation between Italian and French
troops, the commander of the Italian garrison
-- General Pittaluga -- expelled a company
of 187 of his Grenadiers from Fiume. These
were amongst the rowdiest and most vocal in
the pro-annexation party.
The Grenadiers camped in the town of Ronchi,
111 km from Fiume and 127 km from Venice.
Host-Venturi saw this as the perfect occasion.
He instructed them to send a delegation to
Venice, to finally summon into action the
Poet and ask him to lead a March on Fiume.
The Poet’s name was Gabriele D’Annunzio.
Enter The Poet
If you are not familiar with Italian literature,
here is a quick introduction to this gentleman.
Gabriele D’Annunzio, born on March 12, 1863,
was one of the most popular authors in Italy
and Europe of his time. He was considered
a leading exponent of the Decadent and Aesthetic
literary movements, but his writings were
also influenced by the concept of the Superman
borrowed from Friedrich Nietzsche.
D’Annunzio was a proponent of making a work
of art of one’s life, which increased his
popularity and gave him something of a ‘rockstar’
aura. He squandered his riches in jewels,
extravagant clothes, works of art, fine foods,
and wines.
Most of all, he became famous for his romantic
and sexual affairs. The man was reputed to
be insatiable. He was married twice and had
a string of liaisons with the most charming
women of the Belle Epoque.
At the outbreak of WW1, the Poet had eagerly
enlisted in the Army and went to fight as
a volunteer. What D’Annunzio lacked in morals,
he compensated for in morale. In February
1918, he had raided an Austro-Hungarian naval
base on a motorboat armed with torpedoes;
in August 1918, he had flown over Vienna,
but rather than dropping bombs, he dropped
leaflets inviting the Austrians to surrender,
and warning that the next time he would be
carrying bombs. And all this after losing
one eye in a crash landing!
At the end of the war he had risen to the
rank of Lieutenant-Colonel and had been decorated
with a Bronze Medal, a Silver Medal and a
Gold Medal, the three highest military decorations
in the Italian Army.
As I mentioned, he had warned against the
risk of a ‘mutilated victory’ – the
chance that Italy may not receive the negotiated
territories. After the mess of the Paris negotiations,
D’Annunzio frequently wrote and spoke in
public against Nitti’s Government and in
favour of Fiume’s annexations. Which takes
us back to that summer of 1919 …
On the 11th of September, D’Annunzio was
recovering from a bad fever in his Venetian
house. That day, the delegation of Host-Venturi
came knocking on D’Annunzio’s door, asking
him to do more than just campaigning. Would
he be willing to lead a military expedition
to take over Fiume?
The Poet surprisingly accepted on the spot.
I say ‘surprisingly’ because the Bard
was not exactly in perfect shape. Beyond his
one-eyed status, he was 56 years old, with
many of them spent leading an excessive lifestyle
that would make Guns ‘n’ Roses look like
altar boys.
And yet he accepted this call to adventure.
D’Annunzio wore his uniform, pinned his
medals on the tunic, and joined the officers.
They jumped on a red convertible Fiat 511
and joined the remaining Grenadiers in Ronchi.
These rogue troops were now self-described
‘Legionnaires’.
As their motorcade drove towards Fiume they
were intercepted by motorized infantry, military
police, by elite units of ‘Arditi’ – the
trench raiders – and even by Fiume’s General
Pittaluga.
They all joined his cause, moved by his flowery,
nationalistic rhetoric. In a desperate gamble,
he went full Napoleon and even dared the soldiers
to shoot at his medal-ridden chest.
On the morning of the 12th of September D’Annunzio
and his legionnaires had reached Fiume. They
were more than 2000.
They met no opposition. Not from other Italian
troops, who were either sympathetic to the
cause or starstruck by the presence of the
Poet. No opposition either from the British
and French troops. They would later start
to gradually pull out from Fiume, not willing
to get embroiled in what was essentially an
Italo-Yugoslavian dispute.
And certainly, no opposition from the civilian
population. The Italian majority staged welcome
celebrations: apparently showering the legionnaires
with rose petals and laurel leaves.
The Poet was absolutely knackered and crashed
on his bed at the Hotel Europa. But after
a few hours he was woken up: the city council
had decided to appoint him Military and Civilian
Governor of Fiume. A dictator with full powers,
basically. D’Annunzio was not bought on
the idea, but when he first addressed the
crowd, the enthusiastic response convinced
him to accept the mantle:
“In a world that is abject, crazy, cowardly,
and mean, there is only one truth, only one
love. And that love is Fiume”
His first decree as Governor was to indefinitely
shut down all the brothels, to prevent further
riots from kicking off. Knowing his sex drive,
it must have been hard on him. I mean for
him!
24/7 Party People
After the takeover of the city, D’Annunzio
had proclaimed the annexations of Fiume to
the Kingdom
of Italy. Basically, he had offered Fiume
to Prime Minister Nitti, but Nitti had refused
the offer, ordering a naval blockade and embargo
on the city instead.
At this stage, the Entente and Yugoslavia
had decided not to intervene in this mess,
while the Italians fought it out amongst themselves.
As the city was falling under siege, D’Annunzio
realised he was going to need more support.
On the 19th of September, the Poet sent a
message to Benito Mussolini, editor in chief
of ‘The People of Italy’ and recent founder
of the Fascist Movement, too small yet to
be a proper party.
From his paper, Mussolini had been supporting
the cause of Fiume’s annexation. Why then,
did he not join the poet’s adventure? That
was the question D’Annunzio directed at
Mussolini.
But Mussolini’s lack of action was not due
to cowardice, but to his strategy. He had
plans in mind for his Movement, still weak,
which required the support of certain factions
to grow: the high echelons of the army; capitalists;
and even some slices of the political left.
He was a former socialist, after all, and
was still seeking a reconciliation with the
liberal base.
These disparate factions had something in
common: they were all opposed to D’Annunzio
and his legionnaires. By openly participating
in the Fiume expedition, Mussolini would have
alienated them.
So, he decided for a half way solution. Mussolini
launched a petition via his newspaper to collect
funds in support of Fiume. But he would do
no more, except wait in the wings and see
how the whole enterprise turned out.
The petition also had the side effect of attracting
new scores of volunteers to D’Annunzio’s
side. From Italy and from across Europe, WW1
vets still yearning for action, artists, poets,
occultists, naturists, drug addicts and drug
traffickers, and eccentrics of all kinds descended
onto the besieged city. All of them were young,
most were barely twenty, some even in their
teens.
What attracted them? Perhaps the fact that
Fiume was in a limbo, a City-State in all
but formal name, outside the jurisdiction
of surrounding powers, with the freedom to
do as it wanted. With a new colourful cast
of characters, what had started as a military
invasion had now become a sort of 24/7 rave
party slash Futurist art installation.
Futurism was an Italian art movement of the
early twentieth century that aimed to capture
in art the dynamism and energy of the modern
world – so, perfectly suited to represent
the events unfolding in Fiume. In fact, the
movement’s founder F.T. Marinetti was one
of the many supporters who had flocked to
the port city.
The spirit of Fiume -- and even of Futurism
-- can be best captured in one Legionnaire
in particular: That man is Guido Keller, one
of D’Annunzio’s trusted right-hand men.
Meet the eccentric sidekick
Guido Keller came from a family of wealthy
industrialists from Milan, but he had always
sought to shock his upper-class milieu. He
was a proponent of nudism and yoga, lived
in a treehouse and used to stroll around Milan
with a pet eagle perched on his shoulder.
At the outbreak of the war he had become a
pilot, earning a reputation for being completely
bonkers. He sometimes flew in the nude, which
did not bother his favourite co-pilot: a skull
he decked with pilot helmet, goggles, and
scarf.
When assigned to ground duty, Guido was often
seen driving around on an armoured truck with
his trusty second in command: a donkey called
Camillino, whom he had trained to sit on the
passenger seat.
Keller was not all maniac show and no substance,
though. He was also a competent pilot and
was a certified ace with seven dog fight victories
vs the Austro-Hungarians.
Keller has been with D’Annunzio since the
motorcade of the 11th and 12th of September.
Actually, he had stolen the trucks for that
motorcade! So, the Poet trusted him blindly
and had appointed him as his personal secretary.
This clerical appointment mortally offended
Keller. His protests granted him another appointment
as director of the gloriously named
‘Bureau of Sleight of Hand and Lightning
Attacks’
Following the blockade on Fiume, the city
was short on supplies and the Bureau’s job
was to ease that pressure. Keller’s task
was to raid surrounding towns and Italian
barracks enforcing the embargo, to seize food,
fuel and other goods. Most of all, he and
his men would attack passing ships to confiscate
their cargo or exact a payment for safe passage.
In other words: these guys were pirates. Fiume
had become a City State of poets and soldiers,
founded on piracy, 19 years into the 20th
Century, two centuries removed from the legendary
Pirate Republic of Nassau.
This was not the only one of Keller’s endeavours.
He founded a sort of party -- more of a collection
of eccentrics, really -- who spent their time
discussing far-fetched social reforms, composing
poetry or playing pranks on the citizens of
Fiume. This party was also known as Yoga Group.
They even published a periodical, in which
they revealed the party’s symbol: a swastika.
This is, of course, an ancient symbol of hindu
and buddhist tradition and had not been appropriated
by that other party yet.
Last but not least, Guido Keller was openly
homosexual, in a period in which this could
get you in jail, or at least ostracized. Fiume
authorities instead tolerated, and sometimes
even encouraged, homosexuality,sexuality and
group sex among legionnaires and civilians.
Wild parties were thrown almost every night,
fuelled by cocaine which was never in short
supply despite the embargo.
But don’t be fooled by the atmosphere of
constant partying and sense of freedom, for
there was a dark side to Fiume.
Walk on the Dark Side
The same ‘arditi’ who may be playing pranks
in the buff with Keller may also don their
signature black shirts to deliver fierce beatings
against civilians who did not appreciate their
antics. Their weapons of choice were batons
and castor oil: forced down the victim’s
throats this would induce a debilitating and
humiliating diarrhoea. While the Italian majority
was largely spared this treatment, Croats
and other Slavic minorities were singled out
and eventually forcibly removed from their
homes.
D’Annunzio and his leadership were clearly
Slav phobic. For some of them, the hatred
was rooted in their war experiences. Slovenes
and Croats in the Austro-Hungarian Army were
among the fiercest fighters they had faced
on the Alpine front, and they hadn’t overcome
their grudge yet. For some others, there was
a racial bias behind their hatred.
D’Annunzio instead had a more strategic
approach to his animosity against Balkan Slavs.
He saw a united Yugoslavia as a threat not
only to Fiume, but to Italy’s dominance
of the Mediterranean, as well as to its sphere
of influence over the Danube region.
A recently declassified letter of D’Annunzio
to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs detailed
his plan. The poet proposed a secret plot
to sow dissent among Bosnians, Slovenes, Croats,
and Montenegrins against the Serbs, in order
to drive the disintegration of the young Kingdom
of Yugoslavia. There is no record of a reply,
but clearly the plan did not take place.
These secret negotiations show that the Poet
had taken his role of supreme Governor very
seriously. And as a supreme leader, he took
a liking to the trappings of power. He constantly
organized military parades; he delivered frequent
speeches from his balcony to delirious crowds;
he surrounded himself with scores of soldiers
clad in black shirts and had introduced – for
the first time! – the Roman salute to replace
the traditional military gesture.
So, there you go: a strong leader, military
paraphernalia, black shirts … what does
that remind you of? Fascism, right? But at
the time the Fascist movement was in its infancy,
it counted only a few hundred members and
had none of the trappings I have described.
The National Socialist party even less so!
So, who came first … ?
The Regency of Carnaro
In spite of these proto-fascist tendencies
and profuse Slav phobia, the city continued
to attract revolutionaries and loose cannons
from all over the world, regardless of nationality
or political affiliation.
D’Annunzio created the ‘League of Fiume’,
conceived as a sort of “anti-League of Nations,”
a revolutionary, anti-imperialist body that
would organize the oppressed peoples and nations
of the world against the Entente powers that
had let them down during World War I. The
League invited nationalists and dissidents
from Hungary, Austria, India, Ireland, Egypt,
all of whom had felt betrayed by the territorial
settlements decided by the Paris peace talks
and the Treaty of Versailles. Irish independentist
were particularly active and visited Fiume
to buy weapons to use in their struggle against
British rule.
The city’s leadership had no specific political
leanings and appreciated the contribution
of socialists, anarchists and trade union
activists who flocked to Fiume, considering
it a sort of experimental town where all political
ideas could be put to the test.
By September 1920 the blockade had started
to take its toll on the population of Fiume,
and Keller and his pirates could do little
to relieve their needs. D’Annunzio felt
obligated to do something, even if it was
a symbolic gesture.
The Poet took the decision to formally declare
Fiume an independent state. He designed the
flag and chose the name: Regency of The Carnaro,
or Kvarner, after the Gulf overlooked by Fiume.
He delegated the drafting of its constitution
to one of his recent left-wing recruits, Alceste
De Ambris, a syndicalist. Their constitution
was probably the most advanced of its time.
It was founded on complete equality among
genders, ethnicities and religions. It established
universal free education and healthcare. It
granted universal suffrage to men and women,
as well as equal pay and a minimum wage. It
would be advanced even by today’s standards
in certain countries.
The only foreign power to recognize the new
state was the Soviet Union. Lenin had even
defined D’Annunzio as the only true revolutionary
in Europe!
Was it all just nice words on a legislative
text? We would never know. Unbeknownst to
the poet, things were transpiring in the background.
Nitti’s successor, Prime Minister Giovanni
Giolitti, was negotiating an agreement with
Yugoslavia, the Treaty of Rapallo. This was
made public in November: it sanctioned that
Fiume be returned to Yugoslavia, after a transitional
period of self-administration. D’Annunzio
and his acolytes would have no role nor space
in this period of independence. In other words:
they had to be removed.
Upon learning the news, Guido Keller flew
on his biplane to Rome. After dropping a dozen
red roses for the Queen on the Royal Palace,
he veered towards the Prime Minister’s office,
where he dropped a fully loaded … chamber
pot.
But what followed next month was no laughing
matter. On Christmas Eve, The Italian Army
and Navy closed in on Fiume and issued an
ultimatum to the Poet. When he refused to
leave or surrender, the attack started.
His legionnaires were ready for a ground assault,
but when the navy started shelling the city,
panic spread through civilians. After two
days, D’Annunzio realised that the population
was tired, exhausted, and consumed by the
whole experience. His legionnaires, brave
as they almost certainly were,, did not stand
a chance against a naval bombing.
On the December 26, the Poet surrendered.
His troop of poets, lovers, and pirates had
suffered 50 casualties in what became known
as Bloody Christmas. They eventually demobilised
in January of 1921, leaving a manic present
for an uncertain future of unemployment, political
violence or maybe just a normal life they
clearly could not endure.
Post-Credits Sequence
What happened to our characters after the
adventure was over? We all know what happened
to Mussolini. His Fascist party became a full-blown
movement in Italy, as its ranks swelled with
many Fiume veterans, including Captain Host-Venturi.
Guido Keller never adapted to civilian life.
Restless and wracked by a cocaine addiction,
he tried his fortune as a gold prospector
in South America. He returned to Italy completely
broke and died in a car accident in 1929,
aged 37.
D’Annunzio retired to a monumental villa
on Lake Garda, filled with memorabilia from
his many adventures. He dedicated the rest
of his life to editing his literary works
and generally in being celebrated and revered
by the Fascist regime. He died in 1938.
And what was the legacy of Fiume and the Regency?
If Human history was the work of persistent
writers, one could think of Fiume as the sandbox
environment for their experiments on a chapter
called the Modern Age.
Within the span of 16 months, Fiume was the
backdrop to events, ideas that would reappear
in the most significant moments of the 20th
century.
The violation of WWI peace treaties, as the
great powers look on without intervening.
The birth of authoritarian politics as a demagogic
show for the masses. Ethnic cleansing, in
the Balkans, and elsewhere. The disintegration
of multinational countries. The rise of militarism,
fascism and eventually Nazism.
Fiume was there first.
But also free love, fluid sexual identities,
experimentation with drugs, youthful rebellion
and eastern mysticism that would characterise
the 1960s … Fiume did it first.
The Fiume adventure does not take more than
a paragraph in most History books, but it’s
worth studying as the sketchbook for the shape
of things
to come.
