by Iain Bowen
It had been otherwise fairly quiet for most of February, nothing really that couldn't be dealt with at reasonable leisure. Minor matters like dealing with the lengthy list of problems of the rulers of East Frisia and the complicated inheritance issues of Braunschweig were in hand. A bit of medical treatment in the first case and a blanket "No" on the second were the best in both cases, although I must admit I have never seen a young man more miserable than Karel Edzard of East Frisia when he arrived in the UK. Karel was a bit of a tricky case; the family were fairly broke, but there was a substantial opinion amongst the states of the Lower Rhine that we should try and help him - they didn’t want a Prussian succession, so they pitched in a bit to his college fund. Given his rather limited education, the best we could manage was some classes at an FE college, which he seemed to quite settle into; we also got him some appropriate medical treatment for his melancholy. Of course, he didn’t stay long; we’d just about started to sort him out when his father went and died on us, forcing him to return. However, oddly enough, he returned with a British bride he’d picked up at his FE college - luckily the house law of East Frisia wasn’t very status-conscious. He also managed to learn enough about us to ask us for help with the Emden situation, which we were happy to help with. The results so far have been fairly positive, although the underlying political culture of East Frisia may well have helped.
In the middle of February we also got surprising news about the Maratha advance on Madras, news that caused the MoD into re-evaluating the capabilities of trans-armies. The French in Madras had used their spotter plane well - they had cleared villages and stores out of the line of march, ambushed and harried the army’s supply train at every opportunity, conducted raids landed by boat behind the army and even used a few steam trucks as mobile cannon platforms - for the latter, the accuracy was utterly awful, but it was the action that counted. The Maratha never even got to Madras; demoralised, tired and hungry, they had executed their general and returned north to beyond Yanaon. We had seen towards the end of the Spanish war that guerrilla tactics could at least cause fewer losses; the French appeared to have refined those somewhat. Alan Clark, in particular, pointed out in a paper that we needed to be much more wary of this, especially as training had been provided by former soldiers to a number of cis-armies. Clark does sometimes have his uses in areas like this.
Of course, by that time we had just about managed to contact nearly everything worthy of calling itself a nation in the world; even if the Ryukyu Kingdom had been more a case of "stop that or we will shell you", we even managed to interest them in forestry to deal with their denuded islands - they also gave us a little insight into Japan, which was helpful. Not that we had embassies everywhere, but there was generally supposed to be a chap who could get in contact with us. We'd even managed to finally make some very tentative relations in East Africa and Central Asia. Qing China didn't formally recognise us, but there were a growing number of back channels and people you could talk to; experts told me that this was about as close as we could expect at the time.
Then there was Japan. Of course, nearly all their neighbours told us that they weren't worth bothering with, with the Koreans being particularly poisonous about them. The Hermit Kingdom was indeed a Hermit Kingdom; there was the odd whisper, the odd suggestion that we should do a Commander Perry on them, but frankly there wasn't much interest. There were certainly quite a few people around who suggested that Japan staying cut off was a good thing - a lot of them had fought the Japanese in the war. The VOC told us they were intrigued with us but not sure what to do.
However, at the end of February 1984, they turned up at Phuket. Two large war junks - we much later learned there had been three originally - with a small force of "marines" aboard and some minor dignitaries. There was much scurrying around to see if we knew anything about any of the minor dignitaries - it turned out that it was one of those situations where a couple of the names were known, but it wasn't known what for. Photos were wanted as well, just in case any known cis names had turned up; one or two of the Japanese embassy staff had gone wandering and not returned. However, a decent quality photo would take a few days to arrive - trying to recognise one sent over a telecopier was always interesting,
It seems that they had obviously been talking to the Koreans; their initial suggestion was for official contact to be done through Phuket and a series of official visits to each other’s realms. There was little mention of trade, but some rather comforting phrases about "our great island nations". Obviously, someone had to go to Phuket and have a bit of a chat; I did consider it - the weather would be better than the mixed sleet and snow that had been much of February - but I decided that the journey was a little bit much, so after a quick word with Willie, I sent for little Rifkind; unfortunately he was out there for some time, and we both attracted the ire of the Whips.
Among the more interesting and more unpredictable things I had to deal with were the various powers East of Calcutta. Some were more predictable than others, and our expertise had been seriously weak in the area; however, since we had come to terms with the United Provinces, the VOC had been fairly helpful in acting as a conduit of learning. In fact the VOC had become very useful in a number of ways East of Bombay, although they were earning some very good profits through their actions.
The minor powers in South-East Asia fell into three categories: those who wished trade; those who tried to involve us in their internal squabbles; and those who tried to ignore us. Ayutthaya and the petty kingdoms of the Khmer and the Lao were friendly, and we tried - and to some extent succeeded - in creating some harmony amongst them. The various Burmese, Vietnamese, Malay and Sumatran states varied between plotting and ignoring us. Brunei was rather more tricky, partly due to some lawsuits - Prince Jefri had been in the UK and had eventually gained control of the substantial Brunean cash assets held in the UK; we had thought that he would stay in the UK and spend it on his playboy lifestyle, but he had returned to Brunei and was busy there.
Korea and the UK were enjoying the first fruits of their new relationship; the Koreans had taken a very practical attitude and a very sensible one with regard to their assets - like the French, they looked to buy in order to learn. We weren't making much money there yet, but their proposals were practical and hard headed. The Manganese for agricultural technology deal was a fine example of that.
Late in March of 1984, I was enjoying keeping a careful eye on the initial talks with the Japanese. These were best said to be proceeding at a fairly glacial pace; the Japanese could best be described as interested, but also fairly scared of what they felt to be contamination. As they had no great excess of agricultural products, any sizeable mineral resources or great excesses of wealth, I wasn't looking for much more than formal relations and some form of Nagasaki-like deal. I got the feeling from the reports that they were looking for the same, at least until their internal political problems were dealt with.
However, it was Qing China that provided the surprise. We had been dealing with China for some time, through the East India Company initially and mainly through the various companies that the more successful captains had created since. They provided considerable amounts of tea and fairly large amounts of rice; in return, we provided silver. The Treasury in particular did not like this, and nor did our advisory panel, who were mainly originally from Hong Kong. There was also the question of formal recognition and of sorting out a proper status for our port of entry, which at the time was Canton.
We knew that some fairly senior people had been attending the virtually permanent trade talks in Phuket, although we didn't actually know how senior - but the body language studies had long shown that those doing the talking weren't making the decisions. We had also started to pick up some other sources who indicated that there were people within the administration of China who had concerns that there might actually be something to learn from the Red Headed Barbarians.
However, Qing China liked surprises, and I arrived at my desk
to find a very surprising telegram. The trade negotiators had been replaced with a new set which openly included senior officials - known names at that. There was a proposal that would follow by telecopier (and the original by aircraft) that was described as more than substantial. It seems that the Chinese had decided that Phuket was successful and wanted in on the action, but at the same time wanted us out of Canton. They were offering a lease on the Island of Hainan, albeit with what looked on the surface like very stiff terms.
I was sure that this was just a diplomatic volley, but compared to what had come before it was a considerable movement by the Qing. One wag even called it a great leap forward. The rules of the game meant that it would have to be carefully considered and appropriately replied to. China would take up a considerable amount of my time over the next year or so.
One of the interesting things about the Dislocation was watching nations react to what would have been; one of the more disturbing things was about how they acted in such circumstances. The Hapsburgs had taken a very interesting position with their multi-national holdings; they were concentrating their reforms on where they held direct power - Austria proper, Bohemia, Silesia and the Adriatic Littoral. They were clearly less concerned about other areas; there were rumours that they were making some very long-term plans for their empire and that some things were potentially up for sale. Their reforms were actually working fairly well for them - because of their central position well away from the UK, the money they generated benefitted small manufacturers in their lands, not ones in Birmingham or Bradford.
However, there were other voices in the Hapsburg fold and in the Spring of 1984 one of them became rather noisy - the Magyar one. At the time Hapsburg Hungary, which also included Slovakia and those parts of Croatia not subject to the Military Frontier, was an exceptionally poor and depopulated area which was just starting to recover from 250 years of war and Ottoman occupation. The only bit that could be described as recovering was Royal Hungary, which had not been occupied by the Turks - and which also had substantial German-majority areas, including the important cities of Preßburg and Ödenburg. However, the Hungarians had a proud tradition and an even prouder nobility; their superb cavalry, alongside that of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, had carried the field many times against the Turks. Their overweening pride and vanity led them into a confrontation with the Hapsburgs in an attempt to gain an Ausgleich similar to that of the 19th century.
Now the late Kaiser was not one of those who had risen superbly to the Dislocation; he was in some ways far too distracted by the question of the Succession. However, he had co-operated well with cis-advisors and was doing better than many. There had been some reforms, there had been some investment, there had been some scientific progress - nothing major, but a steady improvement. However, he reacted to the 10 point attempted Ausgleich with all the fury of an absolute monarch. He agreed on two of the points - one of which was essentially Hungary cutting its own throat - gave partial ground on another, and said that he would look at a fourth. He then told the Hungarian nobles to leave Preßburg, and two weeks later he evicted them from the city. There were to be no further talks, His Highness had commanded, and he deployed loyal Austrian and Bohemian regiments into selected areas.
Privately, I was informed some close sources that, if it wasn’t for the prestige and the fact that the Ottomans would swoop in, the Kaiser was perfectly happy with the idea of the Hungarians going their own way. He could see long term problems if and when nationalism arose with the numerous national minorities under the Crown of St. Stephen, and had plans to make it the first of the cadet states. This was actually the first time I had heard of the long-term plan for the Hapsburg Union, and it was - interestingly - predicated on the fecundity of Maria Theresa. The Hungarians were left simmering in their own juices; there were some attempts to call for Rakcozy, and a couple of atrocities against German settlers south of Lake Balaton, but it was mainly talk. The presence of six elite regiments, three of which were armed with the new Wiener Neustadt needle gun, kept the fire-eating to be mainly talking.
May 1984 was rather a trying time in the Foreign Office: we had the Chinese lease question, which was a long-running infuriation; we had questions being raised about the Hungarian situation; there was all the preparation for the big wedding in Vienna, which was likely to be the biggest diplomatic opportunity for a number of years; and there was the problem with Swedish protectionism, which had infuriated Tebbit enough that he had asked for advice.
Then Mysore blew up in our faces. We had reasonably good relations with Mysore, although they were better with the other Kingdoms along the coast. We saw them as an important partner with considerable potential; however, we were aware that the Wodeyars were rather prone to intrigue. Part of the problem was of our own making; many of our best people in the area were cis-Indians who belonged to the various ancient and charming Syriac Christian churches. We were fine with Travancore and Coorg and the petty states of the Malabar coast, but Mysore had taken its would-have-been history rather hard.
The Maharaja - Chamaraja Wodeyar VII - had been fairly amenable to trade, and had only required reassurances about the cloth trade. However, he had significant problems with his military and part of his family were happy to plot against him. He felt he had dealt with the problem by exiling Devaraja Girachuri, the chief military commander, but he was perhaps a little too kind-hearted in dealing with his father's wife; he merely placed her in confinement.
However, his precautions had not been enough - there had been a coup. He had been found unfit to rule by "The Council of State" and his 3 year old half-brother had been found to be suitable - with a regency council that looked remarkably like the Council of State. Devaraja Girachuri had been released from exile and was heading back.
I decided, after some thought, that the best thing was to withdraw our Man in Mysore to Bombay for consultations. These little coups have a habit of turning a bit nasty, although I hoped everyone understood that the consequences of harming a British diplomat had perhaps moved back to the era of Palmerston rather than going through the UN. We would let them stew for a month or so, and then go back and get back to the business of trade; we had no intention of interfering in the internal affairs of Indian states. This turned out to work fairly well, and we managed to eventually extract the young Maharaja and settle him with a small pension and an alias in Bombay - where eventually he became a quite successful architect.
We had - in my view quite wisely - decided after a suitable amount of time to reject the Hainan lease, or at least the Hainan lease as the Chinese proposed it. When it came down to it, despite a number of potential advantages in the long-term, it was just too big and too expensive. The Treasury objected to the cost in one massive instalment of silver; the Colonial Office pointed out that it was at full stretch anyway; the Ministry of Defence made some very negative noises about the number of troops that would be needed to deal with a historically rebellious island. The best possible assumption was that it was a good deal at the wrong time; had this been offered even a couple of years later, when it had become clearer that we were moving forward, we might well have taken it.
The question was, had this carrot been dangled in front of us in order to cause us to lose face or not? It was clear from the negotiation team that this was very much an all-or-nothing offer; attempts to just discuss a supportable area around Aichow had been rebuffed, whilst exceptionally minor points about the meaning of a single character in the lease had been taken up enthusiastically. We did get the hint that this was an offer that was meant to be rejected from one or two of the negotiators, but we also had a more general feeling that it was serious. The suggestion was that it was a one-time-only, take-it-or-leave-it offer, but at the same time, despite a lot of ritual noises to the converse, we were assured by the Canton merchants that trade would continue.
The question then was, how to reject it? Dr Dong, whom I had decided was a better voice to listen to on the matter, had suggested tha
t we draw out the process a little longer and then give a flat, terse rejection with a closing line that maybe, perhaps, better offers could be considered at a later date. The other experts disagreed, to some extent; they all agreed that that flat and terse was the way to go. The biggest debate was the question of the hook at the end and how to leave a hint that a similar deal on a smaller place might just find the acceptance of the Queen of the Red-haired Barbarians. All the experts agreed that we should not make a counter-offer.
Part of the problem was that Canton was not that suited for modern trade without some improvements - improvements that the Chinese authorities refused to allow, which was entirely their right. They had even refused a hydrological survey, but we had that done stealthily by submarine instead. The result was that we still mainly used sailing ships to Canton, although all of ours had some modernisation and a few had engines fitted. Because of the volume of tea being transported, we also had to hire in from the VOC, and there was the odd ship of other nations used as well. As the South China Sea was full of hardy piratical types, such ships had to travel in convoy between Phuket and Canton, which tied up RN resources.