Poor Lord Halifax! He looks so wretched in the picture! He clearly wants to be somewhere else, but...
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Poor Lord Halifax! He looks so wretched in the picture! He clearly wants to be somewhere else, but...
I'm sure Menzies held himself in fare higher stature than those others..
Afterall, he did manage to last as PM for 18 or so years.Great update, Butler was quite literally 'piggie in the middle'.
And that shot of the opera, nice one. It looks like someone just farted with Ciano perhaps having just smelt it, Halifax keeping mum and Musso probably trying to hide it.
I have such a silly mind.
Last edited:
Not as horrid as I thought it'd be. As far as I understood it, matters remain at status quo, right? I imagine the wrangling around Greece will not end here, though. Perchance a cold war between Italy and the UK over influence in Greece? And what of Bangkok? Could a British alliance with Siam draw them into a war with Tojo, I wonder?
No, don't jump!
Don't jump? I think Halifax is missing an hand.
I guess all that pressure of having to deal with the diplomatic picture is affecting the Prime Minister in surprising ways (like losing a hand).
Thank you for sharing with us your silly mind.
The only thing missing from the opera are the Marx Brothers.
The relationship between Germany and Britain is intriguing. It's neat seeing Italy as the dangerous belligerent rather than Germany, and seeing France imploding as it cleaves to Germany is also . . uh, neat. As usual, Churchill's speeches add considerable heft to the dialogue, which is already among your finest strengths.
From birth. And his arm was withered as well. I'm pretty sure I read that he had a number of hands made.
Chapter 95, Buckingham Palace, 8 October 1940
Ribbentrop looked slyly at Halifax and Butler on this, the final day of his visit to London. Beaverbrook, catching the glance, glowered. Over in London on a business matter, he had nevertheless been delighted with the invitation to attend this glittering occasion, made even more dramatic by the presence of the Prime Minister, Foreign Secretary and German Foreign Minister. The presentation of Germany’s new ambassador to the Court of St James had provoked endless speculation as to his identity, most of this speculation, Butler suspected, engineered by Beaverbrook himself mischievously. But after a masterfully effective performance (a pro-Tory performance) Beaverbrook was popular with Halifax and his closest advisors. He had built upon this good reputation by his careful and discreet ‘leaning’ upon his Prime Minister, Mackenzie King, to lessen his openly sceptical view of the Halifax government. With thousands of young British and Commonwealth pilots enjoying an excellent (and Beaverbrook had announced this week, extended) training scheme in Canada Halifax was bumptiously happy with ‘our man in Canada’. Butler, who read Cadogan’s prophecies of rift between the two countries, wasn’t so happy.
The new Ambassador, plucked from his near-exile in Turkey, duly marched stiffly to the King, who sat alert and happy on his glittering throne. As requested (or, to be correct, pleaded) by Butler, the Ambassador bowed deeply. Everyone, especially the British, let out a sigh of relief as the much-feared Nazi gestures did not materialise and as Ambassador Von Papen retreated from the King, the audience, for the first time that afternoon, began to enjoy themselves. Butler, sourly watching the diplomatic wives gathering with the Queen, noticed how united the Queen and Lady Halifax were, especially in the face of Ivan Maisky’s dragon-like wife. No wonder they’re always fighting, thought Butler. If I was married to that beast I’d be bloody furious too. Butler was keen to avoid the Italian ambassador and so was leaning in a corner. He noted Ribbentrop’s aloof posture, and how the German Foreign Minister was studiously avoiding his own ambassador. So they don’t see eye to eye, he realised. Which means that in the matter of this appointment dear Joachim was either overruled or ignored. Chuckling, Butler weaved out of the path of Maisky, who instead went straight to Oliver Stanley. Butler turned to watch the encounter.
“Ah, Mr Chancellor,” he offered a brisk bow.
“Your Excellency,” Stanley, quite properly, returned the bow.
“I believe that you have been ignorant of us, no?”
“I do not know what on Earth Your Excellency is talking about.”
“Trade. I want to trade.” Maisky smiled, much like Ribbentrop’s it was a wicked, mischevious little grin. “Trade between our countries could be a help, yes? Da! It is good!” The Ambassador drowned his wine and walked off. Butler then watched as he was replaced by Capitaine de vaisseau Courval, the new French ambassador, who bristled as he approached. There was a story going around, which Butler and Channon had relished, that Berlin’s decision to renew full ambassadorial relations as soon as the election was over had taken Paris by complete surprise. Not wanting to lag behind their German allies they had rummaged around their close supporters in panic until this man, Yves Courval, a right-wing officer before the war, a staff officer in a safe sector during it and a prominent fascist fundraiser and spokesperson after it had ‘volunteered’. Butler, and probably Halifax too, didn’t expect Courval to last long: he was just a stopgap until a more professional diplomat could be found. Watching the new ambassador wag his finger at Stanley for alleged British financial support to the African rebellion Butler realised that his lack of support for a cabinet colleague was now obvious. Sighing, he reluctantly went to Stanley’s aid.
“Your Excellency, you are wrong to pressure the Chancellor like this. The Prime Minister has made our position quite clear; we will not take sides in your troubles overseas,” he said clearly. Courval looked at both British ministers and let out a very loud sniff.
“It is clear to me why you failed. How could the British Army fight with such terrible ministers?” He chuckled, only stopping when Halifax and one of his sons, Richard, strolled over.
“Ambassador Courval, may I introduce...”
“I have already met the Honourable Richard,” Courval said. In his thick accent it sounded very much like the ‘orrible’ Richard. “Gentlemen, I must be departing.” He strode off to find his wife, the snub to Halifax causing the Prime Minister to raise an eyebrow.
“I suppose,” Stanley said wearily, “we’ll have to another of these bloody meetings for the new American ambassador.”
“Yes,” Halifax murmured, like the others watching Courval stride angrily around the room. “Which will depend on the winner of their election. Is Ambassador Kennedy here?”
Butler waved a hand towards the ambassadorial wives, where Kennedy was flirting outrageously with Madame Courval, a slender woman with an old-fashioned if stylish dress and sleek black hair. Her husband, already irritated by Butler and Stanley, was now practically shaking at this latest insult. Taking his wife firmly by the arm, the French ambassador and his wife, followed by their small entourage, left the reception, but not before Courval audibly questioned Kennedy’s parentage as well as his own wife’s virtue.
Stanley was wide-eyed at it all. “He’s the sort of chap who, fifty years ago, would have us all duelling.”
Halifax looked away. Butler, anxious of upsetting the Frenchman even more, looked anxiously at his Prime Minister. “Shall I go after him, My Lord?”
“You will do no such thing. If the Fwench want to send an iwwational young man to court then they must be pwepared for the consequences. I will not waste our pwestige on gallivanting after him.” He looked annoyed; Butler suspected that the Frenchman’s boorish conduct had offended his sense of noblesse oblige more than he was letting on. “Note, my son, how one is not conduct oneself in an official setting. The diplomatic circuit here in London is not what once it was.” Richard, bored by it all, merely nodded. “Wab, I think we may need to guide the new ambassadors in the pwotocols of the Court of St James. May I charge you with this task?”
“As you wish, Prime Minister, as you wish.”
“What did the Fwenchman want with you, Oliver?”
“He’s upset with us. He thinks that we’re covertly trading with the rebels in Africa.”
“I hope that you cowwected him?” Halifax looked sharply at Stanley.
“I did correct him, My Lord. I shall send him a full reminder of our policy tomorrow morning.” Stanley looked pleasantly back at his master. The secret trade deal that he concocted through the Portugese was untraceable to Whitehall. Not much, merely a small percentage ‘sliced’ from other deals, but it would keep the French rebels going for a few months. Smiling, Stanley pulled out his fob watch, realised that he had to return to the Treasury, and departed the Palace.
For Halifax and Butler, a week of diplomacy had one final event. Piling into a small line of cars, they drove to Waterloo Station. There, Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary bade a relieved farewell to Ribbentrop. A German cruiser waited for him in Portsmouth, in which he would sail to Spain.
As the two men shook hands, Halifax felt his energies flag. It has been the longest of weeks, as nation and government sought to interact faithfully with our neighbours. I am quite ready for a weekend of rest. Lost in thought, Halifax was snapped out of reverie by Ribbentrop.
“I shall convey to the Fuhrer your personal messages.”
“I am most gwateful, Herr Von Wibbentwop,” Halifax winced as he slaughtered the word. “I shall pway for your safe passage to Spain.”
With a second handshake, warmer than the first, Ribbentrop boarded the train and left.
[Game Effect] – A light-hearted update after all the scheming and politics. I think that Germany would have resumed full diplomatic relations after Milan, but would delayed sending the ambassador until the election was decided. Their choice, the legendary Franz Von Papen, smacks of Ribbentrop being overruled by someone in Berlin (Goering potentially). This reflects the slowly waning influence of Ribbentrop on his master; as the war went on he was frequently sidelined as mere survival became more important than diplomatic plotting.
Courval is of course fiction, but I wanted to show the confused French policy towards Britain. Following Germany’s lead they have sent a full ambassador, in this case a naval officer loyal to the course who can be trusted to represent French suspicion of their former ally.
And judging from Stanley’s naughtiness, well-placed suspicions. Though decidedly more moderate than Amery and Eden, I think that Stanley would push his powers and aid the rebels. In gaming terms I received a trade offer from Portugal, whose African holdings of course border the war zone. Going into the game as Portugal I noticed that they were trading with France, so couldn’t resist hatching a little plot.
Kurt_Steiner: I think that all of this political activity, as well as the recent election, would have severely tried Halifax's limited reserves of energy.
Trekaddict: :rofl:
Enewald: The Italians of course got Syria and Lebanon (who promptly declared independence), as well as some African territory, and are eagerly hoping that Berlin grants them the Belgian Congo.
Sir Humphrey: My comment on Menzies was not intended as criticism of him; compared to many of my current 1940 cabinet he'd be a star! My point was that at the moment he is out of touch with UK domestic issues.
Morsky: The tension is certainly building, with a lot of potential flashpoints looming.
Nathan Madien: Halifax of course was born without a left hand - the arm simply stopped with a stump where the hand should be! Halifax occasionally wore a false hand - complete with 'reflex activated thumb'...
Phargle: The British really are in a difficult situation. Germany, Italy and France are all potential enemies. But they clearly disagree on a range of issues. What is Halifax to do?
Sir Humphrey: See above...
Ribbentrop looked slyly at Halifax and Butler on this, the final day of his visit to London. Beaverbrook, catching the glance, glowered. Over in London on a business matter, he had nevertheless been delighted with the invitation to attend this glittering occasion, made even more dramatic by the presence of the Prime Minister, Foreign Secretary and German Foreign Minister. The presentation of Germany’s new ambassador to the Court of St James had provoked endless speculation as to his identity, most of this speculation, Butler suspected, engineered by Beaverbrook himself mischievously. But after a masterfully effective performance (a pro-Tory performance) Beaverbrook was popular with Halifax and his closest advisors. He had built upon this good reputation by his careful and discreet ‘leaning’ upon his Prime Minister, Mackenzie King, to lessen his openly sceptical view of the Halifax government. With thousands of young British and Commonwealth pilots enjoying an excellent (and Beaverbrook had announced this week, extended) training scheme in Canada Halifax was bumptiously happy with ‘our man in Canada’. Butler, who read Cadogan’s prophecies of rift between the two countries, wasn’t so happy.
The new Ambassador, plucked from his near-exile in Turkey, duly marched stiffly to the King, who sat alert and happy on his glittering throne. As requested (or, to be correct, pleaded) by Butler, the Ambassador bowed deeply. Everyone, especially the British, let out a sigh of relief as the much-feared Nazi gestures did not materialise and as Ambassador Von Papen retreated from the King, the audience, for the first time that afternoon, began to enjoy themselves. Butler, sourly watching the diplomatic wives gathering with the Queen, noticed how united the Queen and Lady Halifax were, especially in the face of Ivan Maisky’s dragon-like wife. No wonder they’re always fighting, thought Butler. If I was married to that beast I’d be bloody furious too. Butler was keen to avoid the Italian ambassador and so was leaning in a corner. He noted Ribbentrop’s aloof posture, and how the German Foreign Minister was studiously avoiding his own ambassador. So they don’t see eye to eye, he realised. Which means that in the matter of this appointment dear Joachim was either overruled or ignored. Chuckling, Butler weaved out of the path of Maisky, who instead went straight to Oliver Stanley. Butler turned to watch the encounter.
“Ah, Mr Chancellor,” he offered a brisk bow.
“Your Excellency,” Stanley, quite properly, returned the bow.
“I believe that you have been ignorant of us, no?”
“I do not know what on Earth Your Excellency is talking about.”
“Trade. I want to trade.” Maisky smiled, much like Ribbentrop’s it was a wicked, mischevious little grin. “Trade between our countries could be a help, yes? Da! It is good!” The Ambassador drowned his wine and walked off. Butler then watched as he was replaced by Capitaine de vaisseau Courval, the new French ambassador, who bristled as he approached. There was a story going around, which Butler and Channon had relished, that Berlin’s decision to renew full ambassadorial relations as soon as the election was over had taken Paris by complete surprise. Not wanting to lag behind their German allies they had rummaged around their close supporters in panic until this man, Yves Courval, a right-wing officer before the war, a staff officer in a safe sector during it and a prominent fascist fundraiser and spokesperson after it had ‘volunteered’. Butler, and probably Halifax too, didn’t expect Courval to last long: he was just a stopgap until a more professional diplomat could be found. Watching the new ambassador wag his finger at Stanley for alleged British financial support to the African rebellion Butler realised that his lack of support for a cabinet colleague was now obvious. Sighing, he reluctantly went to Stanley’s aid.
“Your Excellency, you are wrong to pressure the Chancellor like this. The Prime Minister has made our position quite clear; we will not take sides in your troubles overseas,” he said clearly. Courval looked at both British ministers and let out a very loud sniff.
“It is clear to me why you failed. How could the British Army fight with such terrible ministers?” He chuckled, only stopping when Halifax and one of his sons, Richard, strolled over.
“Ambassador Courval, may I introduce...”
“I have already met the Honourable Richard,” Courval said. In his thick accent it sounded very much like the ‘orrible’ Richard. “Gentlemen, I must be departing.” He strode off to find his wife, the snub to Halifax causing the Prime Minister to raise an eyebrow.
“I suppose,” Stanley said wearily, “we’ll have to another of these bloody meetings for the new American ambassador.”
“Yes,” Halifax murmured, like the others watching Courval stride angrily around the room. “Which will depend on the winner of their election. Is Ambassador Kennedy here?”
Butler waved a hand towards the ambassadorial wives, where Kennedy was flirting outrageously with Madame Courval, a slender woman with an old-fashioned if stylish dress and sleek black hair. Her husband, already irritated by Butler and Stanley, was now practically shaking at this latest insult. Taking his wife firmly by the arm, the French ambassador and his wife, followed by their small entourage, left the reception, but not before Courval audibly questioned Kennedy’s parentage as well as his own wife’s virtue.
Stanley was wide-eyed at it all. “He’s the sort of chap who, fifty years ago, would have us all duelling.”
Halifax looked away. Butler, anxious of upsetting the Frenchman even more, looked anxiously at his Prime Minister. “Shall I go after him, My Lord?”
“You will do no such thing. If the Fwench want to send an iwwational young man to court then they must be pwepared for the consequences. I will not waste our pwestige on gallivanting after him.” He looked annoyed; Butler suspected that the Frenchman’s boorish conduct had offended his sense of noblesse oblige more than he was letting on. “Note, my son, how one is not conduct oneself in an official setting. The diplomatic circuit here in London is not what once it was.” Richard, bored by it all, merely nodded. “Wab, I think we may need to guide the new ambassadors in the pwotocols of the Court of St James. May I charge you with this task?”
“As you wish, Prime Minister, as you wish.”
“What did the Fwenchman want with you, Oliver?”
“He’s upset with us. He thinks that we’re covertly trading with the rebels in Africa.”
“I hope that you cowwected him?” Halifax looked sharply at Stanley.
“I did correct him, My Lord. I shall send him a full reminder of our policy tomorrow morning.” Stanley looked pleasantly back at his master. The secret trade deal that he concocted through the Portugese was untraceable to Whitehall. Not much, merely a small percentage ‘sliced’ from other deals, but it would keep the French rebels going for a few months. Smiling, Stanley pulled out his fob watch, realised that he had to return to the Treasury, and departed the Palace.
For Halifax and Butler, a week of diplomacy had one final event. Piling into a small line of cars, they drove to Waterloo Station. There, Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary bade a relieved farewell to Ribbentrop. A German cruiser waited for him in Portsmouth, in which he would sail to Spain.
As the two men shook hands, Halifax felt his energies flag. It has been the longest of weeks, as nation and government sought to interact faithfully with our neighbours. I am quite ready for a weekend of rest. Lost in thought, Halifax was snapped out of reverie by Ribbentrop.
“I shall convey to the Fuhrer your personal messages.”
“I am most gwateful, Herr Von Wibbentwop,” Halifax winced as he slaughtered the word. “I shall pway for your safe passage to Spain.”
With a second handshake, warmer than the first, Ribbentrop boarded the train and left.
[Game Effect] – A light-hearted update after all the scheming and politics. I think that Germany would have resumed full diplomatic relations after Milan, but would delayed sending the ambassador until the election was decided. Their choice, the legendary Franz Von Papen, smacks of Ribbentrop being overruled by someone in Berlin (Goering potentially). This reflects the slowly waning influence of Ribbentrop on his master; as the war went on he was frequently sidelined as mere survival became more important than diplomatic plotting.
Courval is of course fiction, but I wanted to show the confused French policy towards Britain. Following Germany’s lead they have sent a full ambassador, in this case a naval officer loyal to the course who can be trusted to represent French suspicion of their former ally.
And judging from Stanley’s naughtiness, well-placed suspicions. Though decidedly more moderate than Amery and Eden, I think that Stanley would push his powers and aid the rebels. In gaming terms I received a trade offer from Portugal, whose African holdings of course border the war zone. Going into the game as Portugal I noticed that they were trading with France, so couldn’t resist hatching a little plot.
Kurt_Steiner: I think that all of this political activity, as well as the recent election, would have severely tried Halifax's limited reserves of energy.
Trekaddict: :rofl:
Enewald: The Italians of course got Syria and Lebanon (who promptly declared independence), as well as some African territory, and are eagerly hoping that Berlin grants them the Belgian Congo.
Sir Humphrey: My comment on Menzies was not intended as criticism of him; compared to many of my current 1940 cabinet he'd be a star! My point was that at the moment he is out of touch with UK domestic issues.
Morsky: The tension is certainly building, with a lot of potential flashpoints looming.
Nathan Madien: Halifax of course was born without a left hand - the arm simply stopped with a stump where the hand should be! Halifax occasionally wore a false hand - complete with 'reflex activated thumb'...
Phargle: The British really are in a difficult situation. Germany, Italy and France are all potential enemies. But they clearly disagree on a range of issues. What is Halifax to do?
Sir Humphrey: See above...
Last edited:
And Germany's diplomatic offensives conquer nicely since armies can't speak at the moment.
Oioi, no more respect towards the Empire where the sun never sets... the world is changing.
Oioi, no more respect towards the Empire where the sun never sets... the world is changing.
Fun update. It's nice to see the old-school animosities between the damned Frogs and perfidious Albion resurfacing after the wholly unnatural alliance. The offer of trade from Maisky was cryptic and oddly foreboding. Looks like the Rooskies are up to something. But what, I wonder?
What's going on in Asia at the moment?
The offer of trade from Maisky was cryptic and oddly foreboding. Looks like the Rooskies are up to something. But what, I wonder? What's going on in Asia at the moment?
Well, the black Week is over.
Now let's see the next black month.
The more I read this AAR, the better I began to understand and sympathize with lord Halifax.
Treekaddict, what are you doing with that axe?!?!?!?!
You see how wicked Adolf is! He keep von Ribbentrop as Foreign Minister just to make lord Halifax going nuts!
Now let's see the next black month.
The more I read this AAR, the better I began to understand and sympathize with lord Halifax.
Treekaddict, what are you doing with that axe?!?!?!?!
You see how wicked Adolf is! He keep von Ribbentrop as Foreign Minister just to make lord Halifax going nuts!
I was about to attempt to strangle him, but then I realized he does have a point.
its pots and kettles though, coming from a frenchman.
And the Brits would have had a point had they replied
“It is clear to us why you failed. How could the French Army fight with such terrible Generals, such a bunch of outdated tactics and a quite notorious lack of fighting spirit? ”
Indeed. Von Ribbentrop wanted the new ambassador to be Herr Reinhard Rorschach-Reiner, Ritter von Nordrhein-Paderborn.
Unfortunately, they went with Papen instead.
Good to see the Brits are doing something to help the French, even if not enough. What's going on in Franco's Spain?
It seems that other countries aren't intent on showing Britain full respect deserving of a host nation for such conferences. It also seems that this was a trying experience. One can hardly believe these people will remain friends forever...