then inquired whether Britain could prevent Canada from ex-
porting wheat and raw materials to Germany. The Canadian
tried to explain how the empire worked how its very strength
lay in the independence of its dominions. Göring, his mind
roaming, asked whether Canada would blindly follow Britain in
everything. “For instance,” he pressed, “if the peoples of Ger-
many and Austria wished to unite, and if Britain were to try to
prevent them, would Canada back Britain?”
“What I think England is most concerned about,” replied
Mackenzie King, “is the danger of Germany taking some pre-
cipitate action that might set all of Europe aflame.”
Göring reverted to his bullying of the Austrians. At a ban-
quet with visiting Austrian industrialists a few days later, to cele-
brate the anniversary of Papen’s “gentleman’s agreement” with
their country, he said with a leer that Anschluss was inevitable.
He recalled to them how at Geneva in the vote of one ob-
scure South American delegate had wrecked the first Customs
Union proposal of their two governments. “We can’t forever be
dependent on the vote of one jungle savage,” he lectured these
pained visitors to Berlin. “So why don’t we present the world
with a fait accompli? Why not!”
The Austrian envoy, Stefan Tauschitz, picked up a tele-
phone and angrily recommended his superiors in Vienna to
cancel the rest of the official visit in protest. The Forschungsamt
intercept reached Göring only minutes after he returned to his
villa. He telephoned a startled Tauschitz to assure him that he
had been misquoted. “I had the distinct impression,” the in-
credulous diplomat would testify, “that Göring’s office had lis-
tened in to my conversation.” As for Göring, he was unrepent-
ant and recalled years later the pleasure it had given him to “put
the wind up those gentlemen.”
That summer of Guido Schmidt of Austria hinted,