The Grand Design

Outside, the sun shone on resplendent Dutch tulips. In The Hague's 18th Century Ridderzaal (Knights' Hall), Britain's Winston Churchill, the greatest of living Europeans and perhaps the greatest of living men, stood forth, pink and pleased.

To the Congress of Europe, as it called itself, some 600 delegates had thronged. Among them were hundreds of parliamentarians and a few ex-premiers (Churchill himself, France's Paul Reynaud and Paul Ramadier), but none was present in any official capacity and none traveled on government funds. There were exiles from Spain and from the French zone of Germany; from Red-blighted Czechoslovakia, Rumania, Yugoslavia, Finland. The vast majority of all delegates were shabby; frayed cuffs and soiled collars were conspicuous.

There were a few islands of elegance in the sea of shabbiness: Britain's Anthony Eden; Princess Juliana and her consort, Prince Bernhard; Count Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi, a Central European internationalist who for over two decades had been a tireless crusader for a united Europe. Churchill wore a long frock coat such as most British politicians discarded around World War I. It was just possible that the old trouper was trying to look more "European," a little less John Bull.

Being Churchill, he had not spoken for five minutes when his deep and nourishing sense of history asserted itself. He reminded delegates that the unity of Europe was not something they had to invent but to rediscover.

Danger from the East. Said Churchill: "Ladies and gentlemen . . . there are many famous names associated with the revival and presentation of this idea. But we may all, I think, yield our pretensions to King Henry of Navarre, Henry IV of France, who with his great minister, Monsieur Sully, between the years of 1600 and 1607 labored to set up a permanent committee representing the 15--now we are 16--leading Christian states of Europe.

"This body was to act as an arbitrator on all questions concerning religious conflict, national frontiers, internal disturbance and common action against any danger from the east--which in those days meant the Turks. This he called the Grand Design.

"After this long passage of time we are the servants of the Grand Design."

Churchill told of his wartime hopes for postwar amity among the nations: "I have always believed, as I declared in the war, that a Council of Europe was a subordinate and necessary part of the [United Nations] world organization. I thought at that time, when I had great responsibility, that there should be several regional councils, august but subordinate, and that these should form the massive pillars upon which the world organization would be founded in majesty and calm . . .

"There was also hope that they would not meet in an overcrowded Tower of Babel but, as it were, upon a mountain top ... To some extent, events have moved in that direction but not in the spirit or the shape which was needed . . ."

Then he spoke of Europe as it is and has been: "Why should all these hardworking families be harassed first, as in bygone times, by dynastic and religious quarrels, next by nationalistic ambitions and finally by ideological fanaticism? Why should . . . much of [Europe's] enlightenment and culture sit quaking in dread of the policeman's knock?"

The Congress, he said, should not be drawn into "labored attempts to draw rigid structures of constitutions." It could give "our impulse" to "the ruling governments." He did not forget the U.S. "I rejoice that that great republic, in its era of world leadership, has risen far above [hostility to a United States of Europe]. We must all be thankful . . ."

His hearers could fill the rest in for themselves. The U.S. determination to assist Europe was symbolized, as each knew, by ERP, the presence of U.S. troops in Germany, by a series of U.S. naval vessels calling at European ports.

Smoke in the Ridderzaal. Except by a vague allusion to "pettiness and small disputes," Churchill had not touched on-the fact that he and the Socialists do not see a .united Europe through spectacles of the same hue. British Foreign Secretary Bevin, who had launched "Western Union," was not present at The Hague nor did he send any word of encouragement.

The speakers who followed Churchill drew generous applause, but none of them got much closer than he did to the heart of the question: Will the parties in power in the various countries be bold enough to risk their various ideologies in compromises with each other? That question will not be decided at The Hague. The conference broke up into drafting committees which began haggling over how strongly worded the Congress' "impulse" would be.

When he had finished his speech, and after Princess Juliana and Prince Bernhard had left the hall, Churchill gave the chair to Paul Ramadier and, leaning back, lit one of his famous cigars. Seeing Churchill puff contentedly, others lit up also. As the hall became filled with smoke, the Dutch delegates and journalists filled with awe. Such a thing had never been before, or at least not within the memory of the oldest at The Hague. As the session continued and evening brought the drinkers of coffee and of Bols gin to the cafes around the Ridderzaal, the question went round: "What are they doing in there?" and an answer went round: "They are smoking in the Ridderzaal. It was never done before."

So that was one precedent broken. Would this Congress of Europe break other and more important ones? Would it achieve what it publicly proclaimed and privately doubted--the unity of Europe?

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