COMIC OPERA ON THE ADRIATIC

Press, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23053, 22 June 1940, Page 15

COMIC OPERA ON THE ADRIATIC

DALMATIA, promised to Italy as a prize for coming into the war by the secret treaty of London in 1915, and firmly denied to her by President Wilson at the Peace Conference, shelters the Adriatic and gives it the appearance of being what Italy wishes it to be—an Italian lake. The bora, the great northeasterly gale which blows so hard in Trieste that ropes are strung from iron posts along the streets for the inhabitants to cling to, heels the ship over on the Adriatic until the plates slide off the but it only succeeds in whipping the surface of the water to a semblance of that choppy little sea whence Botticelli’s Venus rose. The sea is as green as transparent jade in places where it laps the shore, and the islands which fringe the Dalmatian coast look very much like a smooth edition of the easterly hills of Lyttelton harbour. . The visitor looks up the Adriatic from those waters where the Allies are now reported to have laid a minefield, to see mountains rising tier on tier like an amphitheatre, with the town of Fiume as the stage at their base. Since the last war some theatrical events have taken place in Fiume. Belonging to Hungary, ceded to Jugoslavia by the Treaty of London, Fiume was claimed bv Italy after the war, and .in 1922 Gabriele d’Annunzio, the Italian poet, stormed and held it for Italy, without Italian support, for 27 months; and after that the ungrateful Italians bombarded them out of it. D’Annunzio retired to Lake Garda in disgust, and refused to have anything further to do with Flume’s political difficulties; but Mussolini finally settled the question of its ownership by negotiation with Jugoslavia. Half Fiume belongs to Italy, and the other half, across a bridge over a small stream, belongs to Jugoslavia. The customs difficulties involved appeared insuperable; the Italian wharves were empty except for a brigade of soldiers, and the only ships were small Italian coastal vessels such as the one we came in. The Hungarian-owned Adriatic Steamship Company had transferred its headquarters to the Jugoslavian harbour in the other half of the town, and our native chief engineer bitterly lamented.the loss of business to Italian Fiume. Fiume lived up to this musical comedy history with much of the appearance of a musical comedy set. The tall white houses were gay with window boxes; Italian officers

(SPECIALIST WHITTEN EOS THE press.) [By MARGARET JEPSON]

with clanking swords sat twirling their moustaches and conversing" with beautiful blondes in cafes. Less picturesque soldiers were encamped even in the post offices to read the telegrams which, if written in English, arrived in a language wholly unknown on this planet. Blackshirts and carabinieri patrolled any quarter overlooked by the soldiers; picturesque peasants argued with officials on the bridge; watersiders went to work carrying 1 umbrellas, and went home at the first drop of rain. Off Fiume, in the Adriatic Gulf, lay the island of Brioni, which the elect, including Mr Bernard Shaw and the Duke of Windsor, had discovered as a seaside resort more exclusive than the French Riviera or the Lido. But the Italians of the north are an able people, for all this comic opera atmosphere. The coastal vessel which took us to Trieste, 70 miles away, was a first-class 3000ton, up-to-date motor-ship. In the shipbuilding yards of Trieste they were putting the finishing touches to the 30.000-ton luxury liner Vulcania. The magnificent Rex was already launched. The Vulcania was, I think, the most grandiose fancy ever set afloat. The luxury suites had palm balconies overlooking the sea. the dining saloon looked like a ballroom in the Palace of Versailles, the Pompeian swimming bath in the bowels of the ship had artificially azure water and enormous gates of wrought bronze. Designed to take millionaires from the Argentine to the Riviera, the Vulcania, I notice, was intercepted by the Allies while carrying a cargo of refugees a few days be* fore Italy entered the present war.