I believe I have not erred in judgment in having formed the opinion that, so far as the higher officials are concerned, the British Missions in Europe, with one or two exceptions, have behaved with a consideration and a courtesy towards the people in whose territories they were planted which did them great personal credit and advanced the real interests of their country in a remarkable degree. Wherever I went, in Berlin, Vienna, Riga, Reval, I heard the men of our Missions spoken of in terms of the highest praise. Unlike the French and Italian officers of rank, the British officers frequently attended the opera and other public places in plain clothes, or at least without their orders. There was no swanking about the streets by the younger British officers. Rarely was there an ugly and tasteless demonstration of their position as the representatives of the conquering Powers, irritating and humiliating to the conquered, as in Wiesbaden, where, at a certain time, all business must cease and people stop and hats come off to pay tribute to the French flag, under pain of heavy penalties if it is not done. I have seen for myself the strutting about the streets and cafés of Allied officers, provocative of scenes like the one in the Hôtel Adlon where Prince Joachim got himself into trouble; but seldom did I hear of British officers of the higher grade behaving with the swagger and bluster of the man who tries to maintain his dignity by standing on it; and who never succeeds! The comparative liking for the English in spite of the Peace Treaties and the growing hatred of France all over Europe is due in no small measure to the better manners of British officials and the greater sense of responsibility of the men brought up in the British tradition for those placed in their care. Noblesse oblige.
The one criticism of Sir Thomas Cunninghame which I heard very mildly expressed by a man who had a genuine liking for him was, that he showed too great a fondness for the Hungarian aristocracy. This it was suggested weakened his usefulness to the new-born Austrian democracy.
The Hungarian aristocrats are charming people to meet in a drawing-room. They are handsome and clever and full of friendliness; but cruel as the grave when their passions are aroused and credulous as babies where their material interests are affected. The vilest murderer in the service of the Revolution, the pervert and madman Szamuely, was more than equalled in ferocity and blood-thirstiness by certain delicate Hungarian ladies I know with the best blood of Hungary in their veins. It needed a hard grip upon principle to turn from denouncing the Red Terror and hear the White Terrorists declare what they would do when they got back into power, and not determine to be silent in a contest where both sides justify the cruellest reprisals.
Looking on the poverty and misery of the masses of Austria and Hungary, a flood of deep anger came over me as I thought of the Hungarian in Berne who could think of nothing but the loss of her clothes and jewels and in particular of a pair of beautiful white boots.
“I would kill every Bolshevik if I could have my way; and they shouldn’t die an easy death either. I would roast them in front of a slow fire. Think of what those dirty Jews have done to some of our best men. And all my clothes and jewels gone! I don’t know what on earth we shall do. We have scarcely a penny in the world. Summer is coming and I haven’t a decent thing to stand up in. My beautiful white boots are in Budapest. They are perfect dreams! And to think that those awful Bolsheviks have got them. Some horrid little Jewess is pulling them on to her ugly feet this very minute, I am positive. I could weep my eyes out. You have no idea how nice they are. The leather is perfect; and they come half-way to my knees. They are the smartest things ever seen. Oh, my poor boots!”
After the counter-revolution I saw her and asked if she had recovered her belongings. “Every stick, my dear. It is wonderful. See my boots?” And she stuck out two beautifully shod feet for me to see, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “They hadn’t touched a thing. I shall sell the jewels in America. They will bring in a handsome sum.”
“Well, you at any rate will be able to speak well of the Hungarian Bolsheviks?” I asked.
“No, indeed. They are all filthy Jews, and they have behaved like savages. Do you know they hanged tiny little babies for the fun of the thing and old——”
“Stop, for Heaven’s sake,” I cried. “Don’t talk like that if you want to be taken seriously. It is too silly. You cannot prove what you say, and I, who am not a Bolshevik, know that what you say is not true. If you talk like that the only effect will be that you will make Bolsheviks by the dozen.”