Fall of Giants

Lichnowsky said: “The Russian mobilization is a threat that clearly cannot be ignored, but it is a threat to our eastern border, and that of our ally Austria-Hungary. We have asked France for a guarantee of neutrality. If France can give us that-or, alternatively, if Britain can guarantee French neutrality-there will be no reason for war in western Europe… Thank you, Foreign Secretary. Perfect-I will call on you at half past three this afternoon.” He hung up.

He looked at Walter. They both smiled triumphantly. “Well,” said Lichnowsky, “I didn’t expect that!”

{III}

Maud was at Sussex House, where a group of influential Conservative M.P.s and peers had gathered in the duchess’s morning room for tea, when Fitz came in boiling with rage. “Asquith and Grey are crumbling!” he said. He pointed to a silver cake stand. “Crumbling like that dashed scone. They’re going to betray our friends. I feel ashamed to be British.”

Maud had feared this. Fitz was no compromiser. He believed that Britain should issue orders and the world should obey. The idea that the government might have to negotiate with others as equals was abhorrent to him. And there were distressingly many who agreed.

The duchess said: “Calm down, Fitz, dear, and tell us all what’s happened.”

Fitz said: “Asquith sent a letter this morning to Douglas.” Maud presumed he meant General Sir Charles Douglas, chief of the Imperial General Staff. “Our prime minister wanted to put it on record that the government had never promised to send British troops to France in the event of a war with Germany!”

Maud, as the only Liberal present, felt obliged to defend the government. “But it’s true, Fitz. Asquith is only making it clear that all our options are open.”

“Then what on earth was the point of all the talks we’ve held with the French military?”

“To explore possibilities! To make contingency plans! Talks are not contracts-especially in international politics.”

“Friends are friends. Britain is a world leader. A woman doesn’t necessarily understand these things, but people expect us to stand by our neighbors. As gentlemen, we abhor the least hint of deceit, and we should do the same as a country.”

That was the kind of talk that might yet get Britain embroiled in a war, Maud thought with a shiver of panic. She just could not get her brother to understand the danger. Their love for one another had always been stronger than their political differences, but now they were so angry that they might quarrel gravely. And when Fitz fell out with someone, he never made it up. Yet he was the one who would have to fight and perhaps die, shot or bayoneted or blown to pieces-Fitz, and Walter too. Why could Fitz not see that? It made her want to scream.

While she struggled to find adequate words, one of the other guests spoke. Maud recognized him as the foreign editor of The Times, a man called Steed. “I can tell you that there is a dirty German-Jewish international financial attempt to bully my paper into advocating neutrality,” he said.

The duchess pursed her lips: she disliked the language of the gutter press.

“What makes you say so?” Maud said coldly to Steed.

“Lord Rothschild spoke to our financial editor yesterday,” the journalist said. “Wants us to moderate the anti-German tone of our articles in the interests of peace.”

Maud knew Natty Rothschild, who was a Liberal. She said: “And what does Lord Northcliffe think of Rothschild’s request?” Northcliffe was the proprietor of The Times.

Steed grinned. “He ordered us to print an even stiffer leading article today.” He picked up a copy of the paper from a side table and waved it. “‘Peace is not our strongest interest,’” he quoted.

Maud could not think of anything more contemptible than deliberately encouraging war. She could see that even Fitz was disgusted by the journalist’s frivolous attitude. She was about to say something when Fitz, with his unfailing courtesy even to brutes, changed the subject. “I’ve just seen the French ambassador, Paul Cambon, coming out of the Foreign Office,” he said. “He was as white as that tablecloth. He said: ‘Ils vont nous lacher.’ ‘They’re going to let us down.’ He had been with Grey.”

The duchess asked: “Do you know what Grey had said, to upset Monsieur Cambon so?”

“Yes, Cambon told me. Apparently, the Germans are willing to leave France alone, if France promises to stay out of the war-and if the French refuse that offer, the British will not feel obliged to help defend France.”

Maud felt sorry for the French ambassador, but her heart leaped with hope at the suggestion that Britain might stay out of the war.

“But France must refuse that offer,” the duchess said. “She has a treaty with Russia, according to which each must come to the other’s aid in war.”

“Exactly!” said Fitz angrily. “What is the point of international alliances if they are to be broken at the moment of crisis?”

“Nonsense,” Maud said, knowing she was being rude but not caring. “International alliances are broken whenever convenient. That isn’t the issue.”