Wayward Winds (14 page)

 24 
Disquieting New Book

A few more friends and former colleagues came by to greet the former popular member of Parliament and Liberal leader, and the discussion about the world situation grew lively. Jocelyn sat near the pond enjoying seeing Charles mix so easily with his friends. Five or ten minutes later, Dr. Morley Redmond returned. At his side was a man Charles did not recognize, though whom several of the group apparently knew. Another round of greetings and introductions followed.

“Meet my friend Hartwell Barclay, Sir Charles,” said Redmond. “—Hartwell . . . Sir Charles Rutherford, lord of the manor of the Heathersleigh estate in Devonshire.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Charles,” said Redmond's friend. “I have, of course, heard of you and have followed some of your work.”

“I'm sorry,” Charles replied somewhat sheepishly, “you'll have to forgive me, Mr. Barclay, but I find myself at the disadvantage of not being able to return the favor.”

“Mr. Barclay is with the foreign office and works as a liaison with the secret service, mostly on the Continent.”

“I would not only be surprised if you had heard of me,” said Barclay, “I would be disturbed as well. Success in the field of international intelligence, especially these days with the delicate negotiations in
which we are involved, is greatly aided by keeping what we like to call a low public profile.”

“But I say, old chap,” Beauchamp said, turning to Charles with a somewhat lighter tone, “the country needs you. Any thoughts of returning to the political arena?”

“None whatever,” laughed Charles. “I am perfectly content at present with where the Lord has me.”

A few uneasy coughs and adjustments of various collars went around the circle at Charles' comment.

“But what do you make of the world situation?” persisted Beauchamp. “Now that we have a new king, will the kaiser bring the German army out of mothballs?”

“I hardly think it's been in mothballs, Beauchamp,” objected Forbes. “Don't you Tories pay attention to what's up on the Continent? Wilhelm has been rattling his German sabers all around the world for twenty years.”

“Nothing but bluster and show, if you ask me,” remarked Beauchamp in reply. “He's just not the diplomat old Bismarck was.”

“I am not so sure,” rejoined Forbes. “He is an imperialist, bent on antagonizing every nation of Europe, replacing Great Britain's supremacy on the seas, and taking over the Ottoman Empire when it finally collapses altogether. I say we have plenty to fear from Berlin.”

“It's not the Germans I worry about,” remarked the earl of Westcott, “it's the Russians.”

“Ah, but haven't you heard, James old man,” put in Beauchamp, “they're our allies now.”

“According to a piece of paper perhaps, Chalmondley. But there's revolution brewing there, I tell you, and no good will come of it. It's only a matter of time before that keg explodes.”

“James is right,” added Forbes. “But it remains the Germans who are the threat to stability and peace in Europe.”

“Byram is spot on,” said Baron Whitfield, “—it's the Germans all right. That's why the emperor isn't here—relations between our two nations, without Edward at the helm of Britain, are cooling rapidly. They're infiltrating everywhere. There may, in fact, be German and Austrian sympathizers among us even now.”

“Nonsense, Max,” laughed Beauchamp. “You're an alarmist.”

“I would prefer to call myself a realist. Moles, they're called, Chalmondley. And you oughtn't be so cavalier. Watch what you say—the enemy might be listening.”

“We're not at war,” rejoined Redmond. “We don't have enemies nowadays.”

“There are enemies of the silent, devious kind too, you know, Dr. Redmond,” said the baron. “Enemies don't always carry guns. Sometimes your enemy disguises his true motive with a smile and soothing words.”

“Communists too, looking for support for their revolution,” added Westcott, returning to the Russian theme. “One can't be too cautious these days. It's a changed world. One hardly knows whom to trust.”

“I will agree with you there,” added Whitfield. “With revolution in Turkey and Austria annexing Bosnia and Herzegovina and Russia now recovering from their Japanese war . . . I tell you, it is a dangerous time. It wasn't that long ago that we were friendlier toward Germany than Russia. There are many who think England's present course wrong and would side with Austrian and German interests. But behind Austria, Germany is the greater worry, though it is likely their alliance with Austria will light the fuse. The Germans are a people who thrive on war. If there is—”

“Come, come—there's not going to be any war,” said Beauchamp. “This is the age of diplomacy, or haven't you heard? Am I not right, Mr. Barclay?”

“That's supposed to be our job all right,” replied Barclay. “I doubt it will come to war.”

“I wouldn't like to differ with someone from the foreign office, but haven't any of you read General Bernhardi's book,” asked Whitfield, “—just out?”

“The old German general?” said Charles.

“Yes, and the first German to ride through the Arc de Triomphe when the Germans entered Paris in 1870. He was a twenty-one-year-old cavalry officer then. He is a sixty-two-year-old military theorist now. His ideas ought to frighten all Europe.”

“What's it called, Max?” asked Charles.

“
Germany and the Next War
,” replied the baron. “The title says it as clearly as can be. He argues that war is a biological necessity, that there will always be wars, that they are intrinsic to the struggle for the existence of nations. Furthermore, he says that Germany is
at the head of all of Europe, the leader of progress and culture, the most important nation in existence today.”

“He actually makes such a claim!” huffed Westcott.

Whitfield nodded. “And more.”

“It seems that is enough,” commented Beauchamp, though without the earl's emotion.

“Germany cannot,” Whitfield went on, “according to Bernhardi, be compressed and cramped into unnatural borders. She is morally entitled, by her inherent greatness above the other nations around her, to expand her sphere of influence and enlarge her territory. Such is its right as political necessity. And to attain these ends, Germany must fight and conquer.”

A moment or two of silence followed the sobering words.

“Nor is this all,” continued Whitfield. “Bernhardi goes so far as to call it Germany's acknowledged right to secure the ‘proud privilege' of
initiating
war. He says it is incumbent on Germany to strike the first blow.”

“Does he say where such a blow will come?” asked Morley Redmond.

“Where else?” replied Whitfield. “France. France must be completely crushed, he says.”

“At least his sights are not set on us,” laughed Beauchamp uneasily.

“Not in the first attack, but certainly thereafter.”

“He doesn't think the Germans would dare cross the Channel?” said Westcott, still heated.

“Not now, perhaps. But the Germans are building ships even as we speak. The Anglo-German naval race is no secret. Where better for the kaiser to prove his supremacy than by conquering the Channel. You've heard of the development of their new generation of submarines.”

“The U-boat—it will never be a threat,” insisted Westcott. “England's shores are safe. Germany will never be a naval power.”

“Don't be too certain, James,” replied Whitfield soberly. “Imagine, a fleet of Germans lying off the coast, completely invisible. It gives one pause.”

 25 
Private Confidence

Again the discussion fell silent.

“It
does
make one think, indeed, Whitfield. And I for one would like to hear what Sir Charles thinks about what the rest of you have been debating,” said a new voice, whom none had seen approach as the discussion grew serious.

All heads turned to see a distinguished man walking into the circle whom every one of the number knew well enough.

The home secretary of the U.K. shook hands with everyone around the small circle.

“Nice to see you again, Sir Charles,” said the gravelly voice.

“And you, Winston.”

“We all miss you in the capital.”

“As I said to Max a few moments ago, I am certain the country is in good hands.”

“Still, as the others have been telling you, these are worrisome times.”

As he spoke, Churchill gently nudged his former Liberal colleague away from the others. None of the rest of the group was inclined to object. Everything Winston Churchill said or did seemed somehow imbued with an authority few thought to question.

“You've risen far since we first met, Winston,” said Charles as they walked slowly away. “I read about you often in the
Times
.”

“Meaning no ounce of disrespect, Sir Charles,” rejoined the home secretary, “but I wish I could say the same of you. You might have been my prime minister now instead of Henry Asquith.”

“I doubt that,” laughed Charles.

“Don't be too sure. You were the clear leading candidate. When Campbell-Bannerman retired in 1908, your name would have been top on the list. I have not the slightest doubt you would have risen even higher than I had you remained in Parliament.”

“I suppose we shall never know. In any event, those days are behind us. I made my decision and have never regretted it.”

“
Those
days may be behind us,” Churchill said when they were alone, “but new ones are ahead—dangerous days.”

“You share Baron Whitfield's concerns about Germany?”

Churchill nodded. “If anything I would say Max understates the gravity of the situation.”

“A strong statement coming from the home secretary.”

“I am genuinely concerned, Sir Charles. It is a changing world, and I am not certain England is ready for it. We rule the seas, to be sure, but Germany's army and navy are growing more rapidly than I like. And Whitfield is right about Bernhardi's book—”

“You were listening?” said Charles.

“I like to eavesdrop awhile before I enter a conversation,” smiled Churchill. “I've learned enough in my brief years in politics to keep my mouth closed until there is something important to say. In any event, the book is positively chilling. I only finished it two days ago.”

“And you consider it significant, I take it?”

“Germany's so-called
Weltpolitik
represents the wave of the future—world politics, they call it. They would say it indicates only a new, forward-looking, and broader world outlook. Others maintain its design is military,” replied Churchill. “Bernhardi certainly does nothing to counter that view.”

“And
your
thoughts?”

“Both are probably accurate. Germany is a new nation on the world stage. I cannot fault them for desiring to be a major player on that stage. But the buildup of their armaments, and Kaiser Wilhelm's obvious expansionary interests—these ought to concern us deeply. And with the Balkans so tenuous . . .”

Churchill paused and sighed.

“It is a frightening situation, Sir Charles,” he went on.

“What can be done?”

“Preparedness is our only hope.”

“What about diplomacy?” asked Charles. “There have been many crises during the last ten or fifteen years, all successfully averted.”

“Because one party has always backed down. But when the time comes when no one is willing to do that—as it surely will—what then?”

“Will not reason prevail?”

“Reason is hardly the operative position between bullies. And if the kaiser has shown anything since coming to power, it is that he relishes playing the bully. Bismarck possessed raw power, and wielded it with dexterity, even a certain caution. Wilhelm II, however, as I see it, will be only too glad to provoke hostilities as soon as he feels in a position to win.”

“What about Norman Angell's book? There is one I
have
read.”

“
The Great Illusion
is itself an illusion,” chortled Churchill. “The premise—the
proof
, he calls it—that war is impossible by virtue of the financial and economic interdependence of nations . . . it's absurd. It is based on a faulty thesis altogether, that reason dominates a nation's actions. Much as we might hope such to be true, the fact is, when situations and crises arise, usually reason does
not
dictate action.”

“What does, as you see it?”

“Pride, arrogance, nationalism, fear, belligerence . . . and the bully mentality—calling another's bluff, assuming
he
will back down. It is no way for nations to behave with one another, but sadly such is the case. Nations are run by men, and men are fallible, egotistical, and often
un
reasonable by nature. The situation between Serbian nationalists and Austria is an explosive one. And with the kaiser feeling more powerful by the day . . . eventually, Sir Charles, I tell you, we are going to find ourselves in a predicament from which no one will back down. In my view, it is inevitable. It is only a matter of time.”

“So I take it, you are making plans for such a crisis?”

“To the extent I am able,” replied Churchill. “But England is asleep. Even within our own government, within the cabinet, within the military itself, there remains such an attitude of disbelief that the peril is genuinely serious. The army and navy are devising plans
without even talking to one another. The leadership of the navy in particular is ill equipped for what faces us.”

“Are you . . . making your views known?”

“When the appropriate time comes, believe me, I fully intend to make my voice heard. I may be dismissed from my post altogether, but I love England too much not to speak out.”

“You have always been plainspoken,” smiled Charles.

“A virtue or a vice, as the case may be, of which I might also accuse you.”

“I hope you are right,” rejoined Charles.

“That is one of the reasons I wanted to discuss these matters with you . . . alone,” said Churchill, now lowering his voice. “We are not what would be called close friends. But I have been watching you through the years, Sir Charles. Not only are you plainspoken, you are a man whom I judge to be completely trustworthy. I would not hesitate at this moment to place my very life in your hands.”

“I appreciate that confidence.”

“Perilous times lie ahead,” Churchill went on. “I need men who will tell me what they think without fear of the consequences. And I need men I can trust. On both counts, I have no doubts concerning you.”

“What are you asking, Winston?”

“I am asking if you might consider coming out of retirement and getting involved again? The country needs men like you.”

“Are you talking about politics . . . my standing again for the Commons? If so, I'm afraid—”

“I don't mean Parliament specifically. I don't mean anything specifically at this point. I have no post as such to offer you. If I did,” he added, casting Charles a shrewd sidelong smile, “I have the feeling you would turn it down anyway.”

Quickly he became serious again. Charles returned his smile with a nod, as if in indication that the home secretary knew him very well indeed.

“I simply have the feeling,” Churchill went on, “that I might find myself wanting to call on you at some time in the future.”

They strolled away from the crowd a few moments in silence. Charles saw Jocelyn ahead of them by the edge of the pond where dozens of ducks and geese swam about. He had already left her alone far too long and wanted to rejoin her.

“I don't exactly know what to say, Winston,” he said at length. “You have caught me, to say the least, unexpectedly.”

“Say that you will think about it,” replied Churchill, “and I will be satisfied.”

“Then I can say that I will pray about it,” rejoined Charles. “I love my country too . . . but I have higher allegiances.”