(1) The British démarche in Berlin on 21 May

The démarche was prompted by erroneous information which had led the Czechoslovak government to partially mobilize in order to counter a reported concentration of German troops on the country’s border; Steiner, The Triumph of the Dark, pp. 571-2.

was accompanied by moments of high drama. First, under strict instructions from London, Henderson (the British ambassador to Germany) pointed out to Ribbentrop that the concentration of German troops on the borders of Czechoslovakia might have grave consequences for the world; that Czechoslovakia would respond to any German aggression with armed resistance, which would entail military interference by France and the USSR; that in this case the war would assume European dimensions; and that Britain would not be able to stay out of the conflict. Let Hitler consider whether it would be in his interests to see the British Empire among Germany’s enemies and, in the light of this prospect, assess his subsequent moves.

Henderson’s words enraged Ribbentrop, who, with characteristic tactlessness, screamed: ‘Your British Empire is an empty shell. It is rotten and decaying. It would have collapsed long ago were it not for Germany’s support. What right have you to come here with your advice and to interfere in affairs which do not concern you?’

It was Henderson’s turn to fly into a rage and, banging his fist on the table, he exclaimed that he would not tolerate language of this kind against his country. He then grabbed his hat and made for the door. Ribbentrop shouted after him: ‘Britain is governed by Jews, ha-ha-ha! Isn’t it so?’

Stunned, Henderson paused on the threshold, turned round and cried: ‘We, at least, are governed by gentlemen!’

Slamming the door, the British ambassador left Ribbentrop’s office.

(2) Upon receiving Henderson’s report about his talk with the German minister for foreign affairs, Halifax felt somewhat embarrassed and approached Lothian with a request to inform Hitler privately that the British démarche on 21 May was not meant to insult him, that the British government believed in his peaceful intentions, and that Britain was not going to defend Czechoslovakia with arms in hand. Halifax was extremely shaken when Lothian not only categorically refused to carry out this mission, but also expressed his disapproval of the British government’s capitulatory policy. Lothian, it transpires, has drastically altered his stance over the last few months and now thinks that the main menace to the British Empire resides in Berlin. His views, of course, have found an instant echo in the Astors’ salon and, as Masaryk heard with his own ears, Lady Astor now declares her disappointment with ‘those dictators’ and has even become an opponent of Franco. Lady Cunard,

Maud Cunard, a society hostess and supporter of Wallis Simpson during the abdication crisis.

who until recently kept her salon open to Ribbentrop, is also unhappy with the Germans, telling all and sundry that they want to occupy the whole of Europe. Even Londonderry told Masaryk the other day that he no longer trusts Hitler, that he feels indignant at the treatment of Jews in Vienna, and that he will no longer visit Germany. Astonishing! Are the Germanophile sentiments in the higher echelons of the British bourgeoisie fading away? I find it difficult to believe.

(3) During his unexpected visit to London, Wiedemann stayed at the house of Princess Stephanie Hohenlohe,

Stephanie Julianne (von) Hohenlohe, German princess, who during the inter-war years took up residence in London and socialized with Britain’s elites.

born Richter, a Viennese Jew by birth. Stephanie is intimately involved with Rothermere and is constantly wringing money from him. Wiedemann’s residence in Stephanie’s home has become common knowledge in Germany and has created a great scandal. This explains why Wiedemann’s second visit to London failed to take place. The fact that Hitler chose his aide for such an important mission, rather than Ribbentrop or Dirksen

Herbert von Dirksen, German ambassador in Moscow, 1928–33, in Tokyo, 1933–38 and in London, 1938–39.

(the German ambassador in London), is interpreted by Masaryk as a sign of Ribbentrop’s decline.

By the way, yesterday Ewer revealed to me curious details of how he managed to find out about Wiedemann’s visit to London and to be first to announce it in the press. The visit was kept under wraps, but rumours still spread about Wiedemann being in London. To find out if it was true, Ewer sent a reporter from the Daily Herald to the house of Princess Hohenlohe, expecting Wiedemann to be staying there. Ewer’s envoy was lucky. Coming to the house, he saw a taxi approaching the entrance and Wiedemann jumping out of it. So, the fact of Wiedemann’s presence in London was established and became immediately known to Ewer. But he still had to find out whom Wiedemann was seeing here. How was this to be done? Ewer’s lad was a quick thinker. When Wiedemann entered Stephanie’s house, he ran up to the taxi and asked the driver where he had picked up his passenger. The driver responded ingenuously: from Eaton Place. Ewer grabbed the Directory to see who was living in Eaton Place. It turned out that this was a ‘ministerial quarter’: Colville, Walter Elliot and others had their houses there. Ewer ran through the list of distinguished residents, trying to guess whom Wiedemann could have visited. It all seemed improbable. And then – eureka! Halifax’s apartment was also located in Eaton Place. Wiedemann must have been on his way back from the foreign secretary! But how was this fact to be firmly established? Ewer had nearly despaired when it finally dawned on him. He called Halifax’s apartment and asked for the butler. When the butler took the phone, Ewer said in a heavy German accent: ‘Hello, butler. This is Wiedemann’s secretary speaking. My boss was at your place and left behind his umbrella. Please send it back immediately.’

The unsuspecting butler responded: ‘Oh, no, you must be mistaken. Mr Wiedemann hasn’t left anything with us. He must have left his umbrella somewhere else.’

Hurrah! Now everything was clear, and the next day the Daily Herald carried front-page headlines breaking the sensational news about Wiedemann’s visit and his meeting with Halifax. It caused a tremendous scandal and Halifax had to acknowledge publicly that he had had a talk with Hitler’s envoy.

(4) Heavens above! The zigzags and shifts of British policy! Masaryk also told me the following: ever since the Austrian Anschluss, Halifax has ceaselessly demanded that Czechoslovakia should grant maximum concessions to the Sudeten Germans, and that she should do so as soon as possible.

‘You see,’ Masaryk said in his sweeping, sarcastic manner, ‘for three months I felt like a boy running along the rails before a locomotive, unable to get away since there are high walls on both sides of the track. Halifax kept summoning me to persuade me, advise, instruct, warn and even threaten… And what could I do? How could I resist a locomotive? Almost every week I flew to Prague and harassed Beneš, Hodža,

i Milan Hodža, prime minister of Czechoslovakia, 1935–38.

Krofta

Kamil Krofta, foreign minister of Czechoslovakia, 1936–38.

and whoever I could. By the end, they simply came to loathe me in Prague. As soon as I appeared in Krofta’s office, I would hear: “What, another British demand?”’

Just imagine how shocked Masaryk must have been when Halifax invited him over in mid-July and began singing a quite different tune. Speaking on behalf of the British government, he expressed his concern that the talks between the Czechoslovak government and Henlein were moving too fast, given the very serious issues at hand; that there was no need to rush; and that it would indeed be a very good thing if the Czechs could drag out the talks till late autumn. At first Masaryk failed to understand a thing, but shortly afterwards the mystery cleared up. The British government had learned that Hitler was preparing an open assault on Czechoslovakia and that he intended to exploit the breakdown of talks between the Czechoslovak government and Henlein as a pretext. The British government was frightened. The gap between the demands made by the two sides was too great to hope for a compromise. Did that mean the talks would soon fall through? That Hitler would soon act? This danger had to be averted at all costs. Especially if was to fall in August and September, holiday season for the British ministers (their rest is not to be spoiled) and also the time of the German Nuremberg.

The Nuremberg National Party Convention took place annually in early autumn in the years 1923–38.

But how to do it? Then Chamberlain hit upon ‘the brilliant idea’ of dragging out the talks and buying time.

Hence Runciman’s mission.

Assuming the premiership in April 1938, Daladier confirmed France’s obligations towards Czechoslovakia; but behind the scenes, his foreign minister, Bonnet, exerted pressure on the Czechs to make concessions, making it absolutely clear that neither France nor Britain intended to enter into a war. Informing the French of the decision to send Runciman (an elderly industrialist and former minister in Baldwin’s government) to Czechoslovakia, Halifax expected them to exert pressure on the Czechs to receive his ‘good services’, hardly concealing the intention of giving Germany a free hand in South-East Europe; DDF, 2 Serie, X, Doc. 238; J.B. Duroselle, Politique etrangere de la France. La decadence 1932–1939 (Paris, 1979), pp. 334–40. Runciman stayed in Prague between 3 August and 15 September 1938.

The mission was thought up by Chamberlain himself (or, as seems to me more probable, Horace Wilson). Neither Halifax, the Foreign Office, Corbin, Masaryk nor the Czechoslovak and French governments had the vaguest inkling about the PM’s ‘genius plan’. All rumours and claims to the contrary are false. Half an hour before Halifax’s departure, together with the king, for Paris, Chamberlain told his foreign secretary, ‘By the way, could you sound out the French government’s attitude to this project…’, and proceeded to outline his plan for Runciman’s trip to Czechoslovakia. That is how foreign policy is carried out now in England!

As a matter of fact, Runciman’s mission, which was readily supported by the French, met with a degree of resistance in Czechoslovakia. At first, Beneš’s reaction was extremely negative, as he perceived Chamberlain’s intentions as direct interference in the internal affairs of his country, but then the French started to work on the Czechoslovak government. Eventually, a compromise was reached: Runciman went there, but as a private person who has nothing to do with the government. Runciman is phenomenally lazy and thus ideally suited to ‘playing for time’. But that will hardly be his only occupation. Runciman is just another link in the chain of British policy towards Czechoslovakia: to restrain not the aggressor but the victim of aggression.

(Hillman from The International News Service communicated to me the putatively reliable news that Runciman brought a plan approved by Chamberlain for the resolution of the Czechoslovak question. The first stage: to reach any compromise immediately and at any cost in order to avert the danger of a conflict between Czechoslovakia and Germany. The second stage: at some later juncture, when the situation had calmed down, the German and Czechoslovak governments should unite in guaranteeing the neutralization of the Sudetenland, and this agreement should be entered as a protocol in the future pact of the four.)