Reichs Chancellery
Thursday, November 21, Reichs Chancellery, Berlin. The long hallway led down to a spacious reception area in front of two large closed wooden doors. André François-Poncet, the French ambassador to Germany, walked down the hallway towards the doors. François-Poncet, once described as the handsomest man in France, was in late middle age a man of imposing dignity, a diplomat regarded as France’s ablest ambassador. In the reception area stood the German foreign minister in a frock coat.
“Good morning, baron,” said François-Poncet with easy familiarity as he shook hands with Constantin von Neurath.
“Good morning, Mister Ambassador,” replied the foreign minister. The foreign minister nodded at one of the secretaries, who walked over and opened one of the big wooden doors, peeked in, and announced in a whispered voice the arrival of the dignitaries. The receptionist stood back, opened the door wider, and said, “The Führer will see you now.”
The two men walked through the door and into the large office. Adolph Hitler arose from behind his desk, smiled, and held out his hand. “Good morning, Mister Ambassador.” Then the Reichs Chancellor turned and said, “Good morning, Herr von Neurath.” He waved his hand for all to be seated.
The Reichs Chancellor tilted his head and inquired politely of the French ambassador, “How was your recent visit to Paris?”
François-Poncet replied, “Very fine. I had long conversations with both Premier Laval and President Lebrun. They send their cordial regards.”
The chancellor nodded and smiled faintly.
“They both would like to sound out grounds for mutual rapprochement.”
“Germany wishes nothing less than to come to terms with France.”
The French ambassador nodded while yet again his inner voice asked for the hundredth time: what would those terms be?”
“As I said after the Saar returned to Germany last spring, Germany has no further claims on France,” explained Hitler.
The French ambassador again nodded and reflected: the big issue was the remilitarization of the Rhineland—which was of course in Germany, not France. But it was France’s single most important international security concern.
“There is Locarno, Stresa, and the League of Nations,” ticked off the chancellor.
“Yes, there are many opportunities for fruitful talks between our two countries,” the ambassador replied.
Foreign Minister von Neurath entered the conversation. “The issue of collective security interests Germany. It could offer the possibility of Germany’s return to the League of Nations.”
“France would greatly encourage such a course of action.”
Neurath continued as Hitler looked on, seemingly transfixed by what Neurath was about to say: “Our diplomats are much impressed by what they see at Geneva, what they call ‘the British cement’ by which the foundation of the League of Nations is being strengthened.”
“Yes, the effectiveness of the League is being strengthened by the broad-based cooperation of all countries,” answered the French ambassador.
Hitler shifted his gaze and stared with unblinking dark eyes at François-Poncet.
Neurath eased his manner and said off-handedly, “Germany is not currently a member of the League, so it would not be appropriate to comment on that which does not involve us.”
“Of course,” nodded the French ambassador. The Ethiopian problem works day and night to Germany’s interest, he thought.
Changing the subject, Neurath said, “We view with concern some elements in France that seek to build what they call a ‘chain’ around Germany.”
“I can assure you that France is simply trying to strengthen the bonds of peace across Europe.”
“Germany does not feel that ‘encirclement’ improves the security situation in Europe, which ultimately is the basis for peace.”
“I gather you are speaking of the Franco-Russian Pact pending ratification. France has sought out the treaty with Russia with the aim of bringing the outsider state into the European family of nations. No one is being encircled.”
The three men sat silent for a moment.
The French ambassador opened a new line. “France’s concern in the West is the Rhineland.”
The chancellor silenced his foreign minister with a glance and turned and said to the French ambassador, “With respect to the Rhineland, Germany demands nothing less than complete equality in all matters.”
François-Poncet nodded wearily and said, “I understand the problem’s difficulty.”
The French ambassador shifted in his chair uneasily, as if preparing to raise an unpleasant point. He opened. “Our sources indicate that at a recent party gathering in Munich there was some talk by party leaders of moderating the Nuremberg decrees. World opinion on the subject is quite different than German opinion. This would be a welcome development.”
The chancellor’s face froze in a mask of anger and then with renewed determination he said, “Germany’s domestic policies are of no concern to ‘world opinion.’ We see that the newspapers in the Protestant capitals make a big racket about it. There will be no moderation of the policy towards the Jews. I would hope that Paris would not be so sensitive to Protestants and Jews.”
François-Poncet stared thoughtfully at the chancellor, letting the words slowly register.
Hitler, a little nonplussed, concluded, “I thought that Premier Laval would have a better sense of realpolitik.”
The Reichs Chancellor stood up signaling the end of the interview, the other two men followed. The Reichs Chancellor said nothing. The two diplomats turned and departed.
Outside the big wooden doors, the foreign minister turned and walked over to confer with one of the secretaries. Ambassador François-Poncet continued alone down the long carpeted hallway, tall and solitary. The Reichs Chancellor stood behind his desk and watched the ambassador recede into the distance with an intense, trance-like stare, his thoughts rocking between shrewd diplomatic calculation and an intense rage of hatred.