Chapter 14, Downing Street, 11 April 1936
Baldwin sagged into the deck chair. The Downing Street gardens were not his usual stomping ground, but today he felt the need to get out of the stuffy Georgian terrace (“the rabbit hutch” was Churchills’s caustic view of the building) and enjoy the bright spring day.
One of the secretaries kindly and discreetly followed him with a tray upon which there was a tumbler full of lemonade and a slice of some form of cake. And so, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom sat in his garden and had an early afternoon tea (well, lemonade). The lemonade was excellent and the cake (carrot cake) nice and moist, and so, after involuntarily sniffing the cake (a recent habit) for a moment he allowed himself to relax. Loosening his collar and tie, he even closed his eyes for a fleeting instant.
“Prime Minister,” Hankey said quietly, but firmly.
The sigh with which Baldwin welcomed his Cabinet Secretary was almost operatic. The tension that had been ebbing away reasserted itself; his shoulders hurt immediately and he felt the twitch under his eye flickering. “Yes,” he said sadly.
“The Foreign Secretary is here.”
“Anthony? That’s unexpected isn’t it? Any idea what about?”
Hankey, who was as ever professional, nodded. “Ethiopia, Prime Minister. I think that with the Italian campaign almost concluded he has questions to ask.”
“Sanctions, it’ll be the sanctions. Thank you Maurice,” Baldwin said wearily, and then nodded his thanks as the secretary brought out a second helping of cake, another tumbler as well as the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs (Baldwin was delighted by the almost ceremonial entrance of the cake, with Eden, less so). “Lemonade, Anthony?”
“Ah, er, yes, of course. Thank you.” This was a side to Baldwin that Eden had rarely seen. He perched himself on a convenient table. “Prime Minister,” Eden began primly, trying not to show envy for the half-eaten carrot cake on the plate beside Baldwin, “I would like one of cruisers to be on station off Djibouti.”
Baldwin rubbed tired eyes. “Er, Dji-what?”
“It’s a port, Prime Minister, in French Somaliland,” Eden said with his effortless air of superiority. “I would like a warship to be on station there.”
Baldwin found the energy to sit up and stare, squarely, at his Foreign Secretary. “That sounds awfully like a commitment. And why? You think that there is a chance of Ethiopian refugees?”
Eden offered a knowing smile. “It’s one particular refugee that I’m interested in.”
If ever the phrase ‘the penny dropped’ was fitting, it was now. “Haile Selassie?” Baldwin closed his eyes again, sinking down into the deck chair. “You are proposing that His Majesty’s Government offers asylum to the Ethiopian Emperor?”
Eden made an utterly unreadable expression. Hankey, who was hovering close by, approached the two politicians. “Has any other country made an overture?”
Eden nodded as he recalled the details. “Switzerland, and that’s all I’m afraid,” he said airily.
“Vansittart?”
“He thinks that we should offer him refuge.” Next to Baldwin, Hankey made a wry smile which Baldwin noticed.
“C’mon then, out with it.”
“Prime Minister, I haven’t said a word!”
“Precisely, your silence is thunderous,” Baldwin quipped. “What are the dangers?”
“Italy can protest, but we are entitled to recognise the legitimate Government of Ethiopia and its Head of State. It would risk a further rupture,” Hankey said pointedly, “with the Italians just as we need their support, or at least not their opposition, with Germany.”
Baldwin rubbed a hand over his chin. “Are there variations on this?” Hankey raised an eyebrow.
Eden looked disappointed. “There are,” he said, carefully. “Malkin,” he said the name of the Foreign Office lawyer with evident distaste, “has proposed that we offer him status as a visitor to the United Kingdom, rather than political exile.”
Hankey nodded, he liked it immediately and smiled. Baldwin could see that Eden looked dismayed. Looking from one to the other, Baldwin felt his usual irritation with the annoying foreign matters of protocol and obligation.
“What do the lawyers say?”
“Well, Prime Minister, the advice of Malkin is that by avoiding full diplomatic honour and protocol we avoid having to decide our policy on his status and that of any Ethiopian Government-in-exile.”
“Haven’t we,” Hankey began, probing to test the plan’s weaknesses, “already conferred recognition of him and his status by acting against Italy. The sanctions, I mean,” he said in clarification to a confused looking Baldwin.
“Ye-es, but no,” Eden replied, confusing everyone even further. “We have condemned the Italians, conferring, I suppose, an element of recognition or legitimacy upon the Ethiopians, but in terms of formally declaring him the legitimate ruler, I don’t think so.”
Baldwin smiled sadly at Eden. “You would like, Anthony, to do this?”
“I would, Prime Minister. I think, I firmly believe, that it is the right thing to do.”
“And the Admiralty can spare a warship?”
“HMS Enterprise is in the area anyway and can be off Somaliland in a day or so.”
“Monsell keen to do it, is he?”
“I believe,” Eden said evasively, offering the coquettish smile, “that he and I are aligned on this.”
Baldwin looked to Hankey, who, unhelpfully, shrugged. “Proceed, Anthony, Enterprise to collect Haile Selassie
if he requests ‘assistance’. Enterprise is not to go hoisting the ‘come aboard' flag, he has to ask for assistance.” Baldwin was being careful with his words. “Only for him and his immediate family, Anthony, I don’t want their parliament convening on the decks of our warship.”
“I’m not sure,” Hankey said primly, “that they have a parliament.” That earned him a withering look from both Eden and Baldwin. “But in all seriousness, what are we calling the Emperor’s stay with us? Exile? Refuge?”
Eden, for whom this was a matter of honour, looked down at his shoes. Baldwin saw the younger man’s disapproval and sipped on his lemonade. “He is,” he began, “visiting us as a private citizen. So, no ceremonial…”
“…the Admiralty will want to instruct the Captain of Enterprise on this…”
Baldwin raised a hand. “I
know, Anthony, so get the Navy to sort it out.” Inspiration struck him as he remembered that Hankey had a Naval (or was it Royal Marines?) connection. “Sir Maurice, what is your advice?”
“He will be expecting
something, Prime Minister. We instruct the Captain of Enterprise to meet him with a small group, Officer of the Day and all that. They can offer a courtesy salute at the gangway,” Hankey looked up, recalling his military service, “and piping him aboard, while not necessary for the status afforded, would be a nice touch. But no honour guard, that’ll attract attention.”
Baldwin nodded. “Good. Now, where do we stick him?”
“Here,” Eden said immediately. Hankey winced, which seemed to amuse Baldwin and infuriate Eden.
“If not Britain,” Baldwin said, “where?”
Hankey took a deep breath, and in a professorial tone calmly began his exposition. “He will, no doubt, end up in England, but might I suggest that we allow the tensions from the war to quieten before we offer him a high-profile reception here in the United Kingdom.”
Baldwin was bored. “So, where?”
“Where was Enterprise going?”
Eden looked at his notebook. “Ah, Haifa, I believe.”
Hankey shrugged. “That’ll do.”
Eden shook his head and stroked his moustache. “But not for very long, we do not want an African Christian causing dissent within an area of tension.”
Baldwin nodded. “Agreed. We need to get him away from Africa. Allow him to land in Haifa, stretch his legs, then we place him on another cruiser, one going West. A protocol sheet to be circulated to the Governors or whatever, of wherever he sets foot.” He sagged back into the deckchair, signalling the end of the meeting. “Oh, what else?”
Eden smiled the simpering smile, again. “We have, ah, been invited, by the Turkish Government, to, ah, reconsider the Straits Convention element of the Treaty of Lausanne.”
Baldwin frowned deeply; this was deep foreign affairs stuff. “The
what?”
“The Turkish Straits, Prime Minister. The Turks have written, formally, a note verbale to Avenol asking for reconsideration of the legal status of the Turkish straits.”
“The Dardanelles?” That was Hankey.
“Indeed. Their letter to the esteemed League Secretary-General suggested a conference to determine a new legal regime. I think we should send a delegation.”
Baldwin was not in an area of expertise and so looked to Hankey. “Sir Maurice?”
Hankey knew that he was being passed the issue, and smiled thinly. “I think that it is a good idea.”
Baldwin now vaguely remembered a promise. “Have we told them anything?”
Eden offered a very evasive smile. “We suggested, with the French, that if they supported the League and stood firm over Ethiopia that we would, ah, support them when a revision of the free passage provision came up.”
“Don’t we want free passage through the Dardanelles?”
Eden shook his head. “I believe,” he emphasised the ‘I’, “that it is more important to offer Turkey the dignity of her pre-existing rights, to limit the Russians, and to develop a powerful bulwark in the Eastern Mediterranean.”
“We did,” Hankey clarified, in the professorial tone again, “support the Straits elements of Lausanne. We liked the idea, as the leading maritime power, of chasing a hostile fleet…”
“…a Russian fleet,” Baldwin said bluntly.
“Just so, into the Black Sea.”
Eden took up the point. “But, ah, now,” he drawled the ‘now’ so that it sounded ‘nowwww’, “we need Turkey as a powerful counterweight to Italy. The Balkan agreements of the last few years…”
“…yes, yes, Anthony,” Baldwin said, bored of this. “You make your point, Britain will stand by her earlier assurances.” He turned to Hankey, “was that minuted?” Hankey shook his head, “then her earlier implied assurances, and support Turkey’s attempt at revision. Thank you, Anthony.”
Hankey half raised a hand as Eden got to leave. “Might I ask, Foreign Secretary, what became of the questionnaire?”
Eden winced; the notion of sending an exquisitely drafted letter to Hitler, personally, had been his (egged on, heavily, by Neville Chamberlain) and had been sent, in the frustrating period immediately after the Rhineland crisis. It had asked, in flowery terms, what treaties Hitler intended to follow. “Er, no, Sir Maurice, we haven’t heard back.”
Baldwin had been bored by the prospect but thought it preferable to more overt means. “Not to worry, Anthony,” he said, softly, “it was a genuinely noble effort.”
Hankey nodded sympathetically. “Some would say a most courageous decision, Secretary of State.”
Eden looked, suspiciously, at them both. “So we just leave them? The Germans.” As ever it was pronounced ‘djarrmanns’.
“Yes, Anthony, we do. Thank you,” Baldwin said simply.
“And what of the King’s directive?” He was referring to the King's attempt to meddle during the Rhineland incident.
“
I will deal with that, Anthony,” Baldwin said with some passion. “That’s my concern.”
“You know,” Eden said in his languid way, “that he is taking tea with all sorts up at Belvedere. I heard a rumour that Winston has been over there.”
Baldwin managed to not react, but made a mental note to talk to the Chief Whip, and Wigram at the Palace, about that. “The foreign press?”
“Oh, we’re inundated with forwarded reports about the King and Mrs Simpson. The fact that he continues to have an admirable balance between his proclivities with her and his duties of, ah…”
“…kinging?” Hankey offered, trying to help.
“Ah, well, ye-es. God help us if he takes her abroad anywhere.”
That was a valid point; there had been talk, for a while, of some form of summer jaunt, although thankfully the details were sketchy. Another proposal had been that His Majesty could go to his Canadian ranch, but Prime Minister King was as ever, quite evasive on this matter. "I’ll mention it,” Baldwin said gruffly.
“You’re meeting with him?” Hankey was surprised but pleased. The weekly audiences between Sovereign and Prime Minister were haphazard and infrequent at the moment.
“I am, I’ve been invited to dinner. Nice letter from Wigram, inviting Lucy and I. I’ll go, I’ve asked Gowdin-Froll…”
“You mean,” Hankey corrected, with boundless patience, “Godfrey-Fausset, his Equerry.”
“Aye, ‘im. I’ve asked for time for an audience beforehand.”
Eden, mollified, got up and quietly left. Hankey waited until the Foreign Secretary had stalked back towards the Foreign Office. Baldwin, who had closed his eyes, realised that the Cabinet Secretary was still there, looking expectantly at him.
“Oh, what now?”
“One more matter, Prime Minister. We may need to open an investigation.”
Baldwin immediately sat up. “That sounds, awfully, like trouble.”
Hankey nodded. “We have received several allegations into the leaking of budgetary secrets.”
“From Cabinet?”
“From Cabinet,” Hankey confirmed.
“Do you have a suspect in mind?” Hankey’s innocent expression suggested that he was hiding something. “You do!”
“Our gaze has fallen, unfortunately, upon the Colonial Secretary.”
“Little Jimmy Thomas?” Baldwin thought about it. “I could see it, Maurice, now that you mention it.”
“With your permission, Prime Minister, I would like to investigate it, publicly if necessary.”
“Alright,” Baldwin said. “That will mean that I will need to address the Commons.”
Hankey nodded in agreement. “And Thomas will have to be told.”
“Get him over,” Baldwin said, unhappily. “Tomorrow morning, first thing.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
GAME NOTES
This is a ‘wrap up’ update, tidying up (and introducing) some minor plotlines based on real 1936 events.
The first, and probably most important, is the looming conclusion of the Ethiopian war. The British really did send HMS Enterprise off the Horn of Africa and she did end up embarking Haile Selassie. A bizarre period of half imprisonment / half pleasure cruise thus commenced, with the Cabinet keeping him on a rotating little group of cruisers chugging around the Med until he could eventually come to England. The argument about what, precisely, Haile Selassie’s status would be is equally real, and caused utter confusion to Colonial officials across the region (Gibraltar, in particular, appears to have collapsed into panic about it). I mulled an update on this, but felt that ‘man walks on ship’ would be dull.
And then to Turkey, who acted entirely (as did the British) as portrayed here. This would lead, eventually, to the infamous Montreux Convention, a contentious bit of International Law that still causes huge excitement – the requirement to declare (to the Turks, via a pompously written note from the Defence Attache of your nation) warship transits means that declarations by Russia / NATO are seized upon and analysed to death by t’other side. What can be said is that is has regulated the Black Sea, it provides a clear framework for using the Black Sea as a military jousting arena, and the Turks, from what I have seen, manage it as equally (given that they’re an occasionally pro-Russian NATO member) as they can.
So if the first two points weren’t mad enough, did the British Government really write to Hitler and ask him what treaties he had decided to follow? Incredulously, it did, and although the initiator is unknown (or, more accurately, there are a few names, in various sources, for the idea), it would have had to have been sanctioned by Eden and Vansittart. Eden in early ’36 was in an odd place – we have seen his struggles both within the Foreign Office and without. I think that, as we have already commented, he and the FO were incredibly stretched in early ’36: the sheer scale of crises and conferences is truly bewildering. The questionnaire, I think, is a silly, unthinking gesture – had the FO had capacity then somebody, Vansittart, or Stanhope, or somebody, should have realised that it was a bloody silly thing to do. The Germans, of course, ignored it completely, adding to the embarrassment and ignominy.
The King gets a mention, he meddled precisely as described and Baldwin was certainly very, very irritated by it, another breach and one that will shortly be raised with him.
And finally, the scandal of ’36. In an actually really silly little scandal, there was an allegation around this time that someone was misusing Cabinet information, particularly on budgetary matters, for financial gain. More on this to come…
Throughout all of this is, I hope, a sense of Baldwin’s failing capacity; in reality he faded, slowly, from dominance and all but went into semi-retirement – the Abdication fiasco was the only thing that really got his attention in reality. The twitch and the weird habit of sniffing everything (and I mean everything) that he was handed did indeed develop in early 1936.
@stnylan: Thank you – he’s an odd one to write about, for sure. I also think that everyone has ‘their’ Churchill, a characteristic or portrayal that one just cannot shake off. For me, it’s the Michael Dobbs Churchill in his novels, probably similar to the Albert Finney portrayal in
The Gathering Storm.
@DensleyBlair: I was born and spent my formative years in NE England, although thankfully in a delightful old coastal village rather than the cities. But any journey across the region ended up with an encounter of some God awful architectural mishap.
It’s interesting, your point on how Churchill is perceived. Having mentioned ‘God’s little acre’ I may as well report that Churchill’s rep up there is mixed, particularly among the older ones who remember his views on the miners.
@Bullfilter: Thank you, as ever.
@TheButterflyComposer: TBH the game stayed ‘on rails’ until I started messing with it.
@Specialist290: Thank you – and agree, actually, about Edward.
@El Pip: Pah. You’ll just google your ‘expert opinion’ and then agree with the other chap anyway.
@TheButterflyComposer: And every major event seemed to have a Churchill angle to it…
