Hoare-Laval – The Storm
Monday morning, December 9, London. Anthony Eden sat at his dining table, drinking breakfast tea and thinking about the dispatches he had received Sunday about Saturday’s meeting. He was uneasy. He wondered how many cooks were stirring the broth in Paris.
He thought to himself that a firm policy would compel Mussolini to negotiate for terms which the emperor of Ethiopia would accept, such as those already discussed at Geneva. This would immeasurably increase the League’s authority, the truly important goal. It would also be a salutary warning to Hitler. Why can’t Laval see that?
The door opened and the butler ushered Maurice Peterson into the dining room; Anthony Eden set down his cup and rose. He walked around and shook Peterson’s hand and said, “What do you have for me?”
“The agreement,” and he handed the document to Eden.
“In French, no English translation?”
“No, Minister.”
Eden read through the document while standing. “These terms go beyond any which you had been authorized to accept last week.”
“I did not suppose that you would like them.”
“Yes, quite. How did Hoare come to sign these? Can you provide any further illumination?”
“I was not in the room when final terms were worked out. I was working on the communiqué.”
Eden looked astonished. “Yes, I see,” he said with dismay in his voice.
“I believe that I could have obtained considerably better terms if I had been given more latitude last week,” Peterson said in a tone of polite insistence.
“Undoubtedly true. Thank you, Peterson. The cabinet will meet tonight.”
“Minister…”
“Yes.”
“Substantially correct accounts of the terms are in two French newspapers in Paris this morning and the Daily Telegraph.”
Eden’s eyebrows went up. “Very well. Stand by at the foreign office. Undoubtedly we will communicate the results of tonight’s cabinet meeting to Paris.”
Monday evening, 10 Downing Street, London. The prime minister, Stanley Baldwin, opened the cabinet meeting. “You all know how difficult the situation is. The early and unauthorized release of some of the terms, which by the way are doubly inaccurate in some important respects, makes going forward doubly difficult.” Yes, the terms would look worse than they were, if that was possible some of the ministers thought—ruefully.
Baldwin turned the discussion over to Eden. Eden presented and explained the proposals, concluding, “Some features of the proposals are likely to prove very distasteful to some members of the League.” An undertone of agreement rumbled around the table; heads nodded in understanding.
Eden then made his main point. “We must insist that the proposals go to Italy and Ethiopia at the same time. One cannot be favored before the other.” Heads nodded vigorously in agreement. Eden looked over at an official taking notes; the resolution was entered in the minutes.
Baldwin then offered his concluding resolution. “To support the policy of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs as set forth in his Memorandum.”
Eden looked around the table and added the corollary, “As to the Memorandum, it should be forwarded to the League as soon as possible, and we should emphasize, for possible modification and support.”
Voices around the table said emphatically, “By all means, get it to Geneva. Modifications, by all means.” Heads nodded approval.
Baldwin concluded the meeting.
Tuesday morning, rue Monsieur. There was knock on the front door. Marie opened it and a small man in a big overcoat with a large workingman’s cap pulled down to his ears handed over a half dozen newspapers. “Monsieur Jones asked these be delivered.”
Marie thanked the man; he ran the kiosk around the corner. She carried the papers into the dining room.
“Ah, the morning papers. Let’s see.”
Sipping her coffee, Marcelle said, “Dear, everyone in Paris can tell you that the threat of real war in the Mediterranean recedes. The proposed Hoare-Laval settlement ends the danger.”
“There are people in Paris who say this is rewarding the aggressor.”
“Yes, your friend Geneviève and her little band of idealists.”
“There’s a whole island of them across the Channel.”
“The British have gotten a firm commitment from France to back a settlement through the League of Nations, a settlement acceptable to all parties. It is in Geneva’s hands now. The island people should be pleased.”
“The agreement has to get to Geneva. It’s not there yet.”
“Just a matter of time.”
Dexter smiled at her while scanning the papers. “Here it is. In the American daily. They get the same wires that go to New York.”
He looked across the table at Marcelle and began to read, “African peace plan stirs ire in London. Commons storm likely today as it is admitted Hoare exceeded authority. Betrayal enrages Eden. Those are just the headlines.”
“Eden again.” She scowled.
Dexter turned earnest and continued to read, “According to this explanation, the rights of Ethiopia go into the dustbin, and Britain and France for the sake of escaping from an immediate difficulty take the risk of destroying the League and letting Germany in the near future do to Austria and Hungary what Italy is allowed to do to Ethiopia.”
Marcelle, a pained look on her face, started in. “Not to be the headmistress, but…Hoare-Laval are just tentative proposals. The agreement will belong solely to the League. It will be its triumph. Will Italy get everything it wants? No. The world community will have successfully pushed back. Collective security will have a success, not perfect, but something of some substance. The principle can then be more strongly applied the next time. In Europe, possibly.”
Dexter reached his hand across the table and took hers in his, “As well said as can be.” He looked into her eyes with serious affection, real pride at her understanding, the fortitude of her resolve.
Tuesday evening, House of Commons, London. Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin sat at the government bench, Anthony Eden at his side. Baldwin said in a low voice, “The article in the Times this morning has created a sense of anger and betrayal.” Eden nodded in the direction of the Opposition benches. “Attlee will make us out as hypocrites.”
At the head of the hall, the speaker intoned, “The prime minister.” Baldwin stood up and took several steps forward to the Government’s speaking desk. He made his introduction and opening remarks, stressing that “Britain would insist on a settlement acceptable to the League, Italy and Ethiopia.”
He concluded his remarks, “We are going on with exactly the same policy we have been pursuing. Mr. Eden is going to Geneva tomorrow and we shall know very shortly what the reactions may be to the course that we have been pursuing.”
Then he reminded the House that he understood the morning news reports in the Times to be inaccurate. He stepped back and sat down.
The leader of the Opposition, Mr. Clement Attlee approached the Opposition podium. After his critique of the government policy, he raised the critical issue: “It is a matter which has been subject of a General Election. We understand that the proposals overthrow the whole position of the existing League system in order to settle this question.” He stepped back and took his seat at the Opposition bench.
Eden stepped up to the Government podium. “This is only the first step in a long and complicated enterprise…only a beginning.” He looked down at his papers and then up to the Opposition benches, “We are not seeking to impose terms on anybody…Let’s face the facts. If Italy, Ethiopia, and the League accept discussion on the basis of the suggestions which have been made in Paris, there is nobody here that is going to say ‘no,’ even if some of those proposals may not be particularly appealing to us.”
Eden explained in more detail three general principles involved in the proposals and then concluded his speech, “I ask for latitude and confidence in the task …fo
r the discharge of which, I trust, all parties will seek to bring me aid.” He stepped back and took his place on the Government bench.
Prime Minister Baldwin stepped forward to close the debate, “I have seldom spoken with greater regret, for my lips are not yet unsealed, and were these troubles over I would make a case and I would guarantee that no man would go into the lobby against us.”
Baldwin concluded portentously, “I do not believe that there is anyone in this country who wants war.”
Baldwin knew the speech would quiet the storm until such time later in the week the actual agreement circulated in Geneva. But the riddle remained: how far could the League push sanctions before getting war? Baldwin was set on pursuing the trickiest of political strategies: a dual policy.
Thursday, December 13, Geneva. In the horseshoe-shaped League Hall, all eyes were on Anthony Eden as he strode to the speaker’s podium to address the Sanctions Committee overseeing the Italo-Ethiopian peace efforts.
The British minister began, “Great Britain proposes that the League of Nations Council hear a full statement of the Hoare-Laval peace plan next Wednesday and determine as and when it sees fit what course it would wish to pursue in the light of the situation thus created.”
Looking out at the delegates in the closed session, Eden explained, “I emphasize that as far as His Majesty’s Government is concerned we will not only readily accept the judgment of our colleagues but will continue to use our best efforts to further the two objectives which have been constantly before us in this dispute—restoration of peace and maintenance of the League’s authority.”
One of the small power delegates from Eastern Europe whispered to a colleague, “He’s going back to a simple restatement of British policy towards the League. He is not championing the British cabinet’s current initiative. We backed the sanctions too soon. The British are cutting the ground out from under us.”
Eden further explained, “The proposals now put forward are neither definitive nor sacrosanct…Indeed, we would cordially welcome any suggestions for their improvement.” The delegates murmured amongst themselves, some observing, “The British are divided…London stands behind Hoare, Geneva with Eden.”
Over among the French delegates, Édouard Herriot, minister of state in Laval’s cabinet and president of the Radical Socialist party, now a restless bedmate in Laval’s coalition, sat listening. He spoke to a colleague, “Incredible, Eden seems to be asking for a disavowal of his own government’s proposals.” Herriot mused that Laval was being left out on a limb. He looked over as Laval rose and went to the speaker’s podium.
Laval began to speak by explaining it was the League that had asked Britain and France to undertake settlement discussions. The delegates simply listened; everyone already knew that. He moved to support Eden while also putting distance between himself and his own proposals:
“We propose to communicate them very shortly to the Council of the League. Our task will then be at an end and it will be for the League itself to decide what is to be done. We are at least confident it will appreciate the loyalty of the effort, which, I say again, has no other purpose than to hasten a settlement within the League itself of a dispute the prolongation of which weighs heavily on the world.”
Herriot whispered to his colleague, “Pierre always prefers to work in the shadows, not the public forum. He will return to the back rooms.”
With Eden’s proposal accepted, the delegates stood up and headed for the exits. The small power diplomat whispered to a colleague on the way out, “The oil sanction was not mentioned today.”
Friday evening, December 13, Geneva. The New York reporter picked up the published copy of the Hoare-Laval peace plan at the press center and went over to a desk and started to read.
Yes, he thought, Geneviève and Pertinax had been correct Monday morning—mostly. Almost half of Ethiopia was given to the Italians as a special economic zone but supposedly under the “sovereignty” of Ethiopia. Who was going to believe that fairy tale? The reporter laughed to himself. He gave his own answer: a few ministers on the government bench in the House of Commons? He shook his head in wonderment.
The reporter looked at his notes. Today, Ethiopia had told the League that the plan was simply giving land to the aggressor “pending future annexation.” The Ethiopians went on to denounce “secret negotiations.” Undoubtedly they would garner worldwide sympathy if not support, thought the reporter.
He started to write his dispatch to New York.
Saturday morning, December 14, rue Monsieur. A knock at the street door carried into the dining room; Dexter jumped up and went into the courtyard and opened the large wooden door. The man from the kiosk handed him a bunch of papers and tipped his hand to his cap, “Monsieur.”
“Thank you,” Dexter replied. He had already paid the man handsomely yesterday for this morning’s errand.
Dexter walked back into the dining room and set the papers down on the table. Marcelle took one and scanned the front page. Standing, Dexter searched through the papers and found the Paris edition of the big New York daily. He set it down next to his coffee cup, sat down, and began to read a long article about last night’s debate in the Chamber of Deputies.
“Here we go, Cot declared,” Dexter said in reference to the Pierre Cot, a leading speaker for the Radical Socialist party, “that the position of France must conform to the traditional policy of fidelity to the League of Nations. We want peace, but it must an honorable peace for all. What a disgrace and shame it is to see France propose a project which leads to conferring a reward on the aggressor of yesterday and of tomorrow and in effect to a new ‘partition of Poland.’” Everyone would know that Cot spoke for Édouard Herriot.
Dexter also knew that Poland had historically been divided up between Russia and Germany during the ebbs and flows of Central European history. France had always tried to champion an independent Poland, most recently in the early 1920s against a Bolshevik invasion. He remembered from last summer’s talk that Colonel de Gaulle had served there. An interesting example: partition of Poland. Almost sounded prophetic. But then Poland was always getting divided up.
Marcelle tartly rejoined, “Monsieur Cot obviously picked up his language by reading the London Times this week.”
“Yes, he is echoing British public sentiment.”
“Monsieur Cot is gallantly supporting a principle; he is appealing to great ideals.”
“Public opinion is shaping today’s foreign policy decisions with a force it has never had before,” Dexter ventured, a little tentatively; he knew what was coming.
“Premier Laval has his eye on Hitler and the Rhineland. They are not principles, they are not ideals—but they are there. Ready to pounce. Ethiopia is a sideshow. Some arrangement must be worked out.”
“I do agree with that.”
Marcelle smiled at him.
Dexter continued, “Here, the story quotes members of the Left as saying they do not want to overthrow Monsieur Laval, but just let him fall.”
“Of course. The budget has not been passed yet, nor the bill outlawing armed political leagues and the right-wing militias. The Senate will not vote final approval until sometime in January.”
“You’re right. The Center and Left will keep Premier Laval in power awhile longer. But Laval is being maintained by a large negative political power. No other faction wants to form a government right before a general election.”
Marcelle glanced down at a copy of Action Française, the leading Far Right newspaper, lying on the table and asked, “What does the Right Wing say?”
“Well, they are continuing their line that sanctions mean war with Italy.”
“They should be pleased with Premier Laval’s many efforts to avoid the oil sanction.”
“They are never pleased with republican government. They have published a list of hundred-and-forty deputies who they say support sanctions against Italy. They call them ‘murderers of peace, murderers of France.’ And of course, th
ey really have it in for Léon Blum,” mentioning the Jewish leader of the Socialist party. “They call him the ‘old semitic camel’ and other names.”
“Yes, the Dreyfus affair will live on with the Catholic reactionaries forever.”
“It’s more than that now. The Action Française cries ‘We are not available for the Jewish Crusade’ and that Herriot’s Radical Socialists are guided by ‘obscure powers’ and dominated by ‘millionaires without a fatherland.’”
“Well, yes, and who might they be?” she asked rhetorically. “The difficulty with this hysteria is that across the Rhine is Adolph Hitler. They are doing his work.”
Nodding, Dexter moved on to the next point, “They’re really upset that the paramilitary militias are being outlawed. Laval really surprised them.”
“They should be worried about the change in the press law that went with it. Crimes of incitement have been transferred to tough magistrates, not indulgent juries.” She looked across the table at Dexter, her expression putting an end to the discussion, and she concluded, “I must be off soon. The budget calls.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Yes, Premier Laval has been voted special powers. Ordinary procedure calls for the Chamber to discuss the budget chapter by chapter, to vote on it article by article. This can take weeks, if not months. The special powers should allow the votes to be undertaken next week.”
“That will be unprecedented.”
“Yes, and we must have the first chapters ready to go Monday morning.”
“Does it balance?”
“Yes it does. Except there are extra expenditures for military defense in a special fund being financed by defense bonds discounted by the Banque de France.”
“Your favorite, the Banque de France.”
“Yes, the Banque de France…maker and breaker of governments. Sort of like an epithet in a Greek epic poem…mighty Zeus, hurler of thunderbolts.”
Dexter smiled, “In America, Roosevelt threw a bridle over the banks two years ago.”
Marcelle stood up, eyes twinkling, “Mighty Roosevelt, bridler of banks.”
Dexter laughed as he stood up, “I’ll walk you to the Matignon and then go on to the embassy.”
Tuesday, December 17, Paris. In the Palais Bourbon, the deputies sat in their semi-circular amphitheater waiting for Premier Laval to give his speech in defense of his foreign policy. Many of the deputies looked over to the seats near the government benches at Édouard Herriot, minister of state in Laval’s government. He was the keystone in Laval’s coalition with the majority Radical Socialist party.
Two days before Herriot, speaking as president of the Radical Socialist party, outlined a three-point statement of principle on foreign policy that supported conciliation, required any settlement to be acceptable to the League, and a process of acceptance by Italy and Ethiopia that did not involve imposing a settlement on the weaker party. The speech was widely understood to mean that Herriot and the Radicals thought peace at any price, and especially at the price of Ethiopian territory, was not sound policy.
The deputies understood that French public opinion had swung, like that of the public in Britain, strongly behind the concept that there must be no rewarding of the aggressor and no injustice to the victim.
Laval stood and strode to the tribune. He laid the pages of his speech before him and started by explaining France’s respect for the League Covenant and how, when the Ethiopian war started, the government had promptly moved to put into motion the system of collective security.
Then he got to the heart of the difference between his position and the position of the pro-sanction faction in the British government, “But sanctions do not constitute the only means of stopping hostilities. It is also in conformity with the letter and the spirit of the Covenant to seek a friendly settlement, that is to say, a peaceful solution, as soon as possible.”
He then explained how France and Great Britain had supported the imposition of non-military sanctions step-by-step, concluding, “We did everything possible to prevent what might have provoked an extension of the Italo-Ethiopian conflict into Europe.” This was the nightmare that haunted the two top leaders of the British and French governments, two men who desperately understood their peoples did not want another war. They would speak of solution, rarely of principle, never of ideals.
Laval continued a thoughtful exposition of the events surrounding the Hoare-Laval pact and concluded, “To avoid the risk of extension of the war, I have preferred, and I declare it with a full sense of my responsibility, to propose formulas that may lead us, if they are accepted by the interested governments, to a peaceful solution of the conflict, which will be honorable and just if it carries the seal of the League of Nations.”
As Laval descended from the tribune, more than half the Chamber gave him warm applause. Reporters noted that Herriot sat with his arms folded across his chest.
Later in the debate, a leading Radical Socialist said, to loud applause, “It must not be believed that French opinion will accept a partition of Ethiopia to the profit of the Italy, the aggressor.”
Still later as passionate tides of opinion swept over the Chamber, Laval went to the tribune to answer critics, receiving resounding applause from his supporters as he went. In the galleries, some women joined in the hand clapping; they quickly found themselves admonished by an attendant to behave themselves. Fernand Bouisson, president of the Chamber, addressed a stern rebuke to the galleries. The ladies assumed a chastened silence. Nevertheless, peace had its very enthusiastic supporters.
Laval and his government carried the motion 304 votes to 252; his majorities were narrowing. There were smiles in the galleries.