by Ian Kershaw
IV
Italy was seen by some, in London as well as in Paris, as the last hope. It was not worth placing too much on the bet, but the attempt had to be made, it was thought, at least to keep Italy–still neutral at this stage–out of the war. Beyond this, there was the related but separate notion that Mussolini might even at this point be persuaded to serve as a conduit to his friend Hitler to help to stave off a widening conflict and the ruination of Europe. Mussolini had, after all, intervened on the side of peace in 1938, even if the shameful Munich Conference had been the result. And Italy could not altogether rest easily at the prospect of a Europe completely dominated by a victorious Germany. Moreover, in any settlement he could broker, Mussolini was certain to gain significant territorial concessions for Italy around the Mediterranean. Enhanced power, new prestige and prosperity for his country in a peaceful Europe were the carrots dangled before him. There were few, if any, other inducements to offer the Italian dictator, certainly nothing to tempt him from the allure of militaristic grandeur, from the prospect of triumph in a war that he imagined was already largely won. Mussolini understood threats, particularly if backed by a big stick. But suggestions that he had ‘put his money on the wrong horse’, or that Italy was a ‘light-weight’ in a boxing match with the heavy weight western democracies, which would eventually win a long-drawn-out contest67–points aired before Hitler’s western offensive had brought France to her knees and left Britain in deep peril–were unlikely to impress him. Mussolini’s tone, in his dealings with both France and Britain, had remained belligerent. He had reminded both the French Prime Minister, Paul Reynaud, and Churchill of his determination to remain both politically and militarily the ally of Germany.68
At the height of the crisis, however, an approach to Mussolini remained a possible last resort. Édouard Daladier, the French Minister of Defence (and former Prime Minister), proposed trying to ‘buy off’ Mussolini. He suggested an approach to the Italian dictator through the American President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, informing him that the Allies would be ready to consider his claims if Italy were to remain out of the war. Italy was also to be promised a seat at the peace conference as if she had been a belligerent. The British Foreign Office signalled its agreement on 25 May.69 The suggestion that ‘we should offer to discuss [the] Mediterranean with Italy’ had been put the previous day to the former powerful head of the Foreign Office, Sir Robert Vansittart, who had given it his blessing. So had his successor, Sir Alexander Cadogan, ‘if it will stave off war with Italy for a few days’.70 The immediate aim of the French initiative, and of the British agreement to it, it is clear, was a limited one: to keep Mussolini out of the war in order to buy time. Mention of Italy’s role in a prospective peace conference, however, indicates that the suggestion implicitly went further than this. No less than a negotiated end to the conflict was in mind. But this had to involve Germany. And in any peace conference, it was obvious, Hitler would have a great deal to say.
Neville Chamberlain had noted in his diary as early as 16 May ‘that if the French collapsed our only chance of escaping destruction would be if Roosevelt made an appeal for an armistice’, though he thought it unlikely that the Germans would respond.71 Churchill also wanted the help of the Americans, but not for negotiating an armistice. In the first of what would turn into a voluminous correspondence with the American President, he struck a defiant tone: ‘If necessary, we shall continue the war alone,’ he wrote on 15 May, adding three days later: ‘We are determined to persevere to the very end, whatever the result of the great battle raging in France may be.’ However, he left Roosevelt under no illusions of Britain’s perilous plight were France to fall. ‘If this country was left by the United States to its fate,’ he openly stated in his second letter, ‘no one would have the right to blame those then responsible if they made the best terms they could for the surviving inhabitants.’72 It was an attempt, through laying bare Britain’s danger, to push Roosevelt to an open avowal of support, with the hope of practical action to follow. But the later much vaunted ‘special relationship’ was not so special at this point. Churchill himself was to remark only a few days later, with a tinge of bitterness, that ‘the United States had given us practically no help in the war, and now that they saw how great was the danger, their attitude was that they wanted to keep everything which would help us for their own defence’.73
Roosevelt was cordial, but non-committal. He had public opinion at home, much of it isolationist, to consider. And he had to ponder whether American backing for Britain at this juncture would not be supporting a lost cause. For, at the height of the crisis, he held out little hope of British survival. On 24 May he had so little confidence in Britain’s ability to hold out that he thought Canada and the Dominions ought to urge Churchill to send the British fleet across the Atlantic before Hitler could include its surrender in his peace terms.74 But at least Roosevelt was prepared to offer what leverage he might have (it turned out, predictably, to be little) to intercede with Mussolini on behalf of the Allies.
On the day that Roosevelt was seeking to have Churchill send the British fleet out of harm’s way, Lord Halifax was recommending to the Cabinet acceptance of the French proposal for the President’s mediation to try to prevent Italy entering the war. He did not think much would come of it, but approved of the attempt to acquire, via Roosevelt, Italy’s terms for staying out of the conflict. Halifax added that it might be useful to suggest at the same time that Roosevelt should convey to Mussolini the gist of the last part of a ‘statement which the Prime Minister had proposed to make and had then cancelled’. This was ‘that the Allies were ready to consider reasonable Italian claims at the end of the war, and would welcome Italy at a Peace Conference on equal terms with the belligerents’.75 This was effectively the French proposal that had emanated from Daladier. Churchill evidently had second thoughts about making such a statement himself at this juncture. He and the other members of the War Cabinet, however, were ready to endorse Halifax’s suggestion of seeking Roosevelt’s intercession not merely to keep the Italians out of the war, but to open the door to Mussolini’s participation in a peace conference, presumably to follow an early armistice on the British as well as French side.
About this time–the precise date is not clear–Halifax, who had voiced his view to the Cabinet some months earlier that Britain would not be able to continue alone if France were to make peace with Germany, drafted a telegram for Churchill to send to Roosevelt which, in the event, was not dispatched. It amounted to a plea to Roosevelt to intervene, should Hitler, following the fall of France, offer Britain unacceptable terms ‘destructive of British independence’, such as involving the surrender of the fleet or the air force. Roosevelt was to make plain, in such a dire eventuality, that this would ‘encounter US resistance’, and that the United States would give Britain full support.76 Probably the inherently weak, pessimistic tone did not endear itself to Churchill, who was keen to avoid intimations of desperation. In any case, it was a faint hope, though the unsent telegram shows the way at least one important member of the British government was thinking.
Following the visit of Paul Reynaud to London on 26 May, an Anglo-French request to Roosevelt was finally made. It was thought preferable to approaching Mussolini directly, which might have suggested weakness.77 That same day, Roosevelt informed Mussolini of his willingness to act as an intermediary. He was prepared, he said, to pass on to the Allies ‘Italian aspirations in the Mediterranean zone’, and guaranteed Italy’s participation on an equal footing with the belligerent powers in any peace negotiations at the end of the war. The price was Mussolini’s agreement not to enter the war. The request was unceremoniously turned down the following day.78
Meanwhile, however, the possibility of a more immediate and direct avenue to the Italians by the Allies themselves had opened up. It was around this possibility that, for three days, the issue of whether to seek terms or fight on centred.
On 20 May, in a conversation wit
h Lord Phillimore, well known for his Fascist sympathies, the Italian ambassador in London, Count Giuseppe Bastianini, had appeared enthusiastic about the prospects of a British approach to Germany through the intermediacy of Italy. Phillimore duly passed on the message to the Foreign Office, that even now Hitler would listen to Mussolini. Soon after this, Sir Robert Vansittart was invited to meet the press attaché at the Italian embassy, Gabriele Paresci, who implied that an approach to Italy would not be rejected.79 Halifax relayed this to the War Cabinet on 25 May, mentioning that, after consulting the Prime Minister, he ‘had been authorised to pursue the matter further’. Vansittart had meanwhile been invited to a second meeting with Paresci. Halifax cautiously suggested the line to be taken: that ‘we were now, as always, willing to enter into discussions with the Italian Government with a view to putting an end to the difficulties and misunderstandings which blocked the path of friendship between the two peoples’. Churchill had no objection, as long as the meeting was not made public.80
It was a Saturday, an unusual day for diplomatic meetings, but Halifax was anxious to lose no time in view of the critical military situation. The situation was becoming increasingly grave. The news filtering through was dire. Lingering hopes of a British counter-attack, in tandem with the French, to stave off the German advance were abandoned later that day. The desperate retreat to Dunkirk had begun. German forces were positioned no more than ten miles or so from the port. The prospects for the British army were bleak. ‘Everything is complete confusion,’ Cadogan, at the heart of the Foreign Office, recorded; ‘no communications and no one knows what’s going on, except that everything’s as black as black. Boulogne taken, Calais heavily besieged. Dunkirk more or less open, and that’s the only exit for our B.E.F., if they can ever be extricated. Meanwhile they have little food and practically no munitions…Every day that passes lessens our chances.’81
Late that afternoon, Halifax met Bastianini. Though the usual diplomatic rules of a cautious fencing game were applied, the meeting soon went beyond the limited objective of keeping Italy out of the war. Bastianini widened the issue when he said that it had ‘always been Signor Mussolini’s view that the settlement of problems between Italy and any other country should be part of a general European settlement’. Halifax replied that in building a peaceful Europe, ‘matters which caused anxiety to Italy’–code for her extensive territorial ambitions in the Mediterranean and north Africa–‘must certainly be discussed as part of a general European settlement’. Bastianini enquired whether the British government contemplated discussion of ‘general questions’ involving ‘other countries’ as well as Italy and Great Britain. Halifax avoided an answer by saying that such wide discussion was difficult to envisage while war was continuing. But Bastianini countered by saying that once such a discussion had begun, ‘war would be pointless’. Mussolini was concerned, the ambassador continued, ‘to build a European settlement, that would not merely be an armistice, but would protect European peace for a century’. Halifax stated that ‘the purpose of His Majesty’s Government was the same, and they would never be unwilling to consider any proposal made with authority that gave promise of the establishment of a secure and peaceful Europe’. The Foreign Secretary agreed when Bastianini suggested informing Mussolini ‘that His Majesty’s Government did not exclude the possibility of some discussion of the wider problems of Europe in the event of the opportunity arising’.82
Halifax was preparing to go to church next morning, Sunday, 26 May, when he received news that Churchill had called a meeting of the War Cabinet, the first of three that day, for 9.00 a.m., prior to the visit of the French Premier, Paul Reynaud. At the meeting, the Foreign Secretary reported on his discussion with the Italian ambassador. He prefaced his comments by stating: ‘On the broader issue, we had to face the fact that it was not so much now a question of imposing a complete defeat upon Germany but of safeguarding the independence of our own Empire, and if possible that of France.’ No one demurred at the suggestion, sounding most realistic in the desperate circumstances, that survival, not victory, was at stake. Implicit in what Halifax was saying was that at some point, perhaps earlier rather than later, with or–increasingly likely–without France, Britain would have to negotiate an end to the war. Bastianini ‘had clearly made soundings as to the prospect of our agreeing to a conference’, and had indicated that Mussolini’s wish was to secure peace in Europe. Halifax had replied that peace and security were also Britain’s objective, ‘and we should naturally be prepared to consider any proposals which might lead to this, provided our liberty and independence were assured’. Churchill did not let this pass without comment. He retorted that peace and security might be achieved under German domination of Europe. But Britain’s aim was to ‘ensure our complete liberty and independence’, and he opposed ‘any negotiations which might lead to a derogation of our rights and power’.83 This was not, however, to rule out negotiations at all.
Bastianini had requested a further meeting at which he might have further proposals. There was no disagreement, however, with Attlee’s suggestion that any further deliberations had to await the arrival that day of the French Prime Minister, Paul Reynaud, and the report of the chiefs of staff on Britain’s prospects of holding out if the French collapsed.
This report, ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’, dated 25 May (though not considered in detail by the War Cabinet until 27 May), looked dispassionately at Britain’s situation following a projected French capitulation. Accepting the loss of most of the British Expeditionary Force and all its equipment, and Italian intervention in the war against Britain, but reckoning with American financial and economic support (and possibly eventual participation in the war), the report concluded that air superiority was the crux of Britain’s hopes, without effective allies, of holding out against possible invasion over the next few months. The report offered grounds, therefore, for cautious optimism even in the face of such adversity.84
Reynaud lunched alone with Churchill on 26 May. In his report to the War Cabinet on their discussion, Churchill mentioned the neutralization of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal, the demilitarization of Malta and the limitation of naval forces in the Mediterranean as probable Italian demands. Churchill had told Reynaud, he said, ‘that we were not prepared to give in on any account. We would rather go down fighting than be enslaved to Germany. But in any case we were confident that we had a good chance of surviving the German onslaught.’ The War Cabinet moved on to the question of whether any approach to Italy should be made. Halifax was in favour. He thought the last thing Mussolini wanted was a German-dominated Europe, and would be anxious ‘to persuade Herr Hitler to take a more reasonable attitude’. Churchill ‘doubted whether anything would come of an approach to Italy’, but left the matter for subsequent consideration by the War Cabinet.85
After the second meeting of the War Cabinet that day, at 2 o’clock, Halifax went back to continue the discussions with Reynaud. They were later joined by Churchill, Chamberlain and Attlee, in talks that lasted until Reynaud had to leave, about 4.30 p.m. Reynaud put to the British ministers his hope that ‘some formula’ might be found to ‘satisfy Italian self-esteem in the event of an Allied victory, on condition that Italy did not enter the war’. He told them of the suggestion made a few days earlier by M. André
François-Poncet, the French ambassador in Rome, that to have any hope of success the Allies would have to be prepared to deal with the status of Gibraltar, Malta and Suez from the British side and Djibouti and Tunisia from the French. Reynaud thought Halifax was struck by his arguments. The British Foreign Secretary, he later recalled, ‘expressed his willingness to suggest to Mussolini that, if Italy would agree to collaborate with France and Britain in establishing a peace which would safeguard the independence of these two countries, and was based on a just and durable settlement of all European problems, the Allies would be prepared to discuss with him the claims of Italy in the Mediterranean and, in particular, those which concerne
d the outlets of this sea’. But Reynaud recognized that Churchill ‘was in principle hostile to any concessions to Mussolini’, as were Chamberlain (‘with some reservations’) and Attlee.86
The mood, as the discussions with Reynaud took place, among those fully aware of the dramatic events across the Channel, was distinctly gloomy. Neville Chamberlain’s diary entry speaks of 26 May as ‘the blackest day of all’. Belgian forces, under heavy attack all day, were close to collapse. Leopold, King of the Belgians, was preparing to capitulate. The French, too, Cadogan learned, were ‘in a very bad way’ and, according to Churchill’s military representative in Paris, Major-General Sir Edward Spear, ‘talking about capitulating’. The French Commander-in-Chief, General Maxime Weygand, had stated that ‘he had only 50 divisions against 150 German. He would fight to the end if ordered to do so but it would be useless. Paris would fall in a few days.’ Chamberlain was not exaggerating in writing of ‘a terrible position for France and ourselves, the most terrible in our history’.87
Outside the inner circles of government, others were reading the runes. Fears of a German invasion were growing. One Member of Parliament told his wife that they should each try to obtain suicide tablets so that ‘if the worst comes to the worst there are always those two little pills’.88