The Spy Who Painted the Queen

by Phil Tomaselli

  He went on to explain, at length, that it was De László’s wish for the hearing to be held in public ‘in order that his real actions should be known, and that the gravity of the case should be put at its true weight’. He also wished it to be stressed that permission to have the case heard in public was not granted because his client ‘holds a famous position in art, or because he is … a man of wealth and good connection’. The whole point of bringing the case in public was, he stressed:

  the most enormous contrast between the real extent and gravity of the materials which the Authorities offer for your consideration … and the terrible and dreadful rumours and whispers, not merely spoken from mouth to mouth, but actually published in some of our newspapers as to the case which the Crown has to make against this gentleman.

  He stressed the enormous gulf between the supposed despicable conduct of ‘worming out the secrets of this country and conveying them to an enemy’ and breaches of the postal censorship and regulations to prevent money leaving the country. He and his client were not complaining about the ‘restraint (internment), bitter, severe, undeserved in his conscience as he knows it to be’ because they acknowledged that during wartime the authorities had to act upon accusations no matter ‘how far-fetched the materials may be upon which they acted’ and ‘upon which we know, on reflection, no reliance is to be placed’. He reiterated that the committee was not there to enquire into the expediency of the internment order – it was there to decide whether, on the materials laid before them, De László (whose intentions to become naturalised before the war he laid on with a trowel) was an unfit person to remain a British citizen. The evidence of the Internment Committee was not relevant to this decision.

  He then moved on to the point about De László sending money out of the country to Hungary. Apart from the visit by the Bath policeman, no attempt appeared to have been made to prevent other such transactions, even though the authorities knew of them. His open correspondence with Madame van Riemsdyk had clearly referred to it on a number of occasions; a letter from her was read out in which she clearly said, ‘We have just heard from our Banker that his correspondent in Budapest had safely delivered the £200 to your brother.’ The sentence appeared early in the letter (dated 3 March 1915) so was highly unlikely to have been missed by the censor. A postcard (not even in a sealed envelope) said, ‘Dear De László – I have just received £200 from the Westminster Bank in your name, I shall forward it to your brother …’ and further pieces, not only from van Riemsdyk, which also quite clearly referred to money transfers to Vienna. While Simon didn’t doubt that these were all in breach of the regulations he repeatedly stressed that if nothing was done about them, and his client had not received a clear instruction from the Bath inspector, how was he to know, in his own mind, that what he was doing was wrong:

  And if anything was calculated to make him suppose that the transmission in such circumstances as these, of such sums of money as these, to such recipients as these, by such means as these, was at any time objected to by the authorities, surely these letters and postcards were calculated to give him that assurance.

  The fact that, of course, they were allowed to pass by MI5 in order to give him false assurance, in the hope of catching him in making a slip at a later date, is not referred to.

  In the course of discussing the letters, it was touched upon that at least one had been sent via the Dutch diplomatic bag, and they moved on to this aspect of the case. A postcard dated 18 June 1915 clearly said, ‘I am sending you letters from your brother through our Legation today. We received your telegram alright and forwarded the money yesterday morning to Lamar, as you requested us today.’ As Sir John said, ‘There you have both offences staring you in the face – money being sent out of the country, and the diplomatic bag being used for correspondence.’ This was in June 1915. By reference to other letters he argued that there was no apparent system used to determine which correspondence was sent through the ordinary post or the bag, apart from Madame van Riemsdyk’s wish to send some, more personal material, via a route that would be quicker. She, he said, made no distinction between the two routes. He produced further letters that had gone through the open post referring clearly to the transfer of money, and added, ‘It was reasonable, it was perfectly reasonable for Mr De László to act down to that time on the assumption, in the belief, that what he was doing was unobjectionable.’ He pointed out that Mr Wyatt Williams, the accountant who had gone through the bank accounts for the Home Office, had made a similar point. He went on to say that Wyatt Williams had also cast doubt upon the nature of the warning given by the Bath police about the offence of sending money abroad in the manner it was being done. There had been, Wyatt Williams had concluded, confusion in De László’s mind about the meaning of the telegram being discussed – he thought of it as being mainly concerned with correcting an earlier one he had sent arranging to meet his brother – and that the matter of sending money had not been understood. As a result, the money had continued to be sent. It’s interesting, of course, that Inspector Marshfield hadn’t thought this and that he had been the man who had issued the warning. Simon went on to argue that the Secret Service had construed the fact it had continued as something suspicious, but it was, he said, ‘Nobody’s fault, but it is a misunderstanding which, one is glad to think, has done nobody any harm, except, indeed, it has been the cause of a great deal of suspicion attached to Mr De László.’

  Having gone over details of more of the transactions, Simon turned to the Mayendorff money. De László had been painting a portrait of the ambassador for some time and, when he visited London in September 1916, De László, who thought the main objection to his transfers abroad was that they depleted the monetary resources of Britain, had paid him £200 by cheque to be deposited in an account in Britain, with the money transmitted being sent from an account abroad. If it was a conspiracy, he said, De László had chosen a peculiar co-conspirator, an Allied diplomat ‘whose good faith in the Allied cause no one impeaches’.

  He then turned to why De László had stopped sending money. It wasn’t because he had been visited by Mr Wyatt Williams, who visited long after he had stopped. He didn’t do it because the authorities warned him. He didn’t do it because his family was suddenly on a better financial footing. He did it because he had been told by his brother-in-law that it was wrong to send money out of the country. ‘My Lord,’ he said:

  I rely on this because it seems to me a very good test of Mr De László’s good faith … How did he come to do it? What was the impelling cause which made him say: ‘No, I must not do this any more’? It was the fact that he learned from his brother-in-law that it was not right and that was contrary to regulations to send money out of the country.

  He then turned to the Horn affair and here he was blatantly inaccurate in his description of events. He admitted De László had given Horn a sovereign out of pity but then says that he had read in the newspaper that Horn was an escapee from Donington Hall and that had prompted him to go to the police. In fact he had known this from the start. So the tale Simon told of a penitent De László going to the police to admit his own error, while correct in some respects, was certainly not in others, yet it does not seem to have been challenged by the prosecution.

  Simon then went on to point out that De László had, unprompted and while still interned, produced the long and detailed statement they had before them and that he had also gone out of his way to procure for them letters that he had sent abroad but not retained copies of. All this despite the fact that rumours were circulating that his letters were of a ‘treacherous and improper sort’. He insisted on reading many of the letters that had been sent asking for the correspondence, a process that must have taken ages, eventually admitting the Crown had received them, dealt with them ‘fully, fairly and faithfully’ and translated them before handing copies to the defence. He went on to stress De László’s loyalty to Britain, explaining some of his more apparently curious opinions on, for
example, the Russians, as being as a result of Hungarian history, not as a result of disloyalty, and challenged anyone to produce any statement De László had made which threw doubt on his total loyalty to the state.

  Simon then emphasised the importance, in wartime, of the regulations De László had broken and acknowledged that he had broken them, but then quoted the director of public prosecutions when he said, ‘You have erred, but you have erred from a noble motive.’ He then proposed to examine De László’s written statement, but the president asked whether, among the letters obtained from abroad, there were any which referred to money transfer or use of the diplomatic bag. He also asked how often the De Lászlós’ wrote abroad using the normal post as opposed to using the bag. Simon agreed to have them checked, but added he was sure only five or six letters had gone in the bag so the rest of the letters must have gone by the normal post. He then went on to regale the committee about how De László had accidentally overheard the Dutch minister discussing the British foreign secretary’s displeasure at such use and how he had voluntarily stopped doing so. The president also asked if the committee could be told what the correct procedures were for both writing to enemy countries and for the remittance of money.

  Simon then began to go through De László’s written statement, giving a potted biography and referring to his marriage and the decision to move to London, and how his children were growing up as English public schoolboys and he was looking for a freehold property well before 1914. He also read the section where De László described his admiration for the British constitution, which, he said, was rather like the Hungarian one. In Austria there was an emperor, but in Hungary the same man was a constitutional monarch and obliged, by law, not to speak German while in the country. He was controlled by his ministers, who were all Hungarian, and by an elected parliament. He was also attracted by England’s fine artistic tradition in portrait painting. In 1912 he had written to his brother saying he intended to naturalise as British and had told Pall Mall magazine too. In 1913 he had mentioned it to Lord Curzon as well as to Baron Forster, his great Hungarian patron. He really should have naturalised in 1913, but had been too wrapped up in his work. In 1914, before a hint of war, he had discussed it with Arthur Balfour and Mr Lee, who had volunteered to be a referee. On 13 June 1914 he had met his solicitor while out walking and asked him to commence work on naturalisation. This was before any hint of war. He had signed the application on 21 July and it was lodged with the Home Office on 28 July, over two weeks before Britain declared war on Austria-Hungary.

  Sir John then turned to the letter published in The Star and demonstrated that the letter had been written in July 1914, not later as the authorities claimed. The Hungarian press had got hold of the letter from Marczi and used it to discredit De László, and the British press had simply followed suit. He went on to explain why De László had paid so much money to his relatives, detailing the family’s circumstances and explaining how, over many years, he had been paying them remittances, mainly from his Austrian bank. The report from Mr Wyatt Williams had borne out De László’s own assertion that the payments were regular and made to family members only. Simon went on to explain how Lucy De László had realised that the correct method of writing to an enemy country had been via a neutral one, and had written to Madame Colucci asking her to act as intermediary. He went on (having read all the letters virtually in their entirety) to stress that communications through Italy had obviously been quite legal and above suspicion.

  Simon then asked that Lord Selborne be allowed to give his evidence as public engagements (though he was no longer a government minister) meant he could not attend later. This was granted, and Selborne said he had first met De László in 1910, when he had painted his portrait, and that they had continued friendly relations ever since. During the sittings they had discussed many subjects and ‘Mr De László has the artistic temperament very highly developed, and that at times led him to be indiscreet in his opinions, and his expression of them.’ He had expressed himself particularly devoted to Hungary and the old emperor Franz Joseph, but he had no love for Austria and a dislike of the Germans. ‘He expressed his dislike of the Kaiser so forcibly that he led one to think he was indiscreet.’ De László’s attitude after the outbreak of war had not changed; he was capable of great indiscretion but incapable of anything dishonourable or treacherous. He had always shown himself a man of great honour and integrity, and Selborne could think of no reason he should lose his citizenship. Cross-examined by Sir Archibald Bodkin, Selborne did acknowledge that De László was devoted to Hungary ‘and that his devotion to that country seemed to be a basic characteristic’, but that he had often expressed his admiration for Britain and its institutions and said that his sons should be brought up as English. He had no doubt that De László took up his naturalisation without reservation and said that, as a member of the government in 1916, he would not have asked De László to paint a portrait of his son (recently killed in the war) had he not been conscious of his integrity.

  Following Lord Selborne’s testimony, Sir John returned to the subject of correspondence. He had sent letters to his brother through Professor and Madame Colucci in Italy (then a neutral) in 1914, but they had only been related to domestic matters. Madame Colucci had written at De László’s request before the hearing and testified that the letters were perfectly ordinary and had been sent unsealed so she could check them. He then referred to the correspondence with Mr Winthrop Bowen which reads, ‘Yes. By all means send me any letters you wish me to forward.’ He pointed out that the route had never been used and implied it was irrelevant. He then turned to Madame van Riemsdyk, stressing again and again (and again) that the bulk of the correspondence went through the ordinary post that was subject to the ‘highly efficient and active examination of our military authorities’. He read out the letter by which the De Lászlós had been informed of the death of his mother – it was addressed to Lucy from the Hon. Mrs Charles Rothschild who had, herself, received the news from her sister who lived in Vienna. Mrs Rothschild said she wanted to break the news to Lucy personally so she could be the one to break it to her husband, but had been unable to do so because the De Lászlós had left town – hence the letter. Sir John then read out a further letter, received shortly afterwards, in which De László’s sister-in-law Irma poignantly described Mrs De László’s illness and death. He added, ‘Is it not in the true sense a pathetic and tragic thing, that the intervention, quite right and proper, of the authorities should have broken in on this man at that moment of sorrow?’ Inspector Marshfield had gone there to do his duty but, Sir John said, there was a misunderstanding:

  It was treated, and plainly treated, as a case where naturally the authorities wanted to know why he had been in communication with Hungary, what is it all about, it is my mother who is dying, here is the letter from Mrs Rothschild, read it; and the policeman goes away and naturally says that the man he interviewed was perfectly frank and candid …

  De László, it was implied, had clearly misunderstood the nature of Marshfield’s visit and that ‘it was in these circumstances that he month by month with the greatest openness and greatest regularity by means of the ordinary post and under the very nose and eyes of the Authorities continues to send those sums to his relatives in Hungary’. No mention was made that Inspector Marshfield had said in his evidence, quite clearly (and repeatedly), that in his opinion De László knew what the correct route for sending money should have been.

  Sir John continued to labour the point, reading extracts from letters from February 1915 about the sending of money, and concluded, in his best ‘Soapy’ style:

  While I trust I would be the last to speak without fair consideration of the Authorities, one knows that they had a great deal to do, and very much more serious spies to follow than Mr De László. I am entitled, on Mr De László’s part, to say: ‘You really knew that in February 1915 I was sending £200 out of this country to Hungary. Why, if you please, did you not take
some effective steps to stop me?’ Instead of which, there follows, in March, £200; April, £100; May, £200; June, £300; July, £300; November, £300 and December £500.

  He again stressed that the reason payments ceased was because De László received a warning from an unofficial source that it was illegal and promptly stopped. He then turned to the use of the Dutch bag. Towards the end of 1915, having used the normal post previously, De László became concerned that he had not heard from his family for some time and, fearing disaster, had telegraphed Madame van Riemsdyk. It was she who suggested he use the bag, as her brother, the Dutch minister for foreign affairs, had approved him doing so. She had, herself, used the bag to send him letters (including one which described the death of his mother), but was now suggesting he use it. Between then and August 1916, De László readily admitted sending six or eight letters via the bag, though each envelope may have contained more than one letter for his family. The letters were not individually enclosed in addressed envelopes so Madame van Riemsdyk could read them if she wished. Perhaps tellingly, Sir John was obliged to state that these envelopes were taken by hand and so did not pass through the postal system.

  Sir John then explained, in detail, the money that De László had sent to his family through van Riemsdyk, including a dowry for his niece, and reminded the committee that he had stopped of his own accord when he was told it was wrong by his brother-in-law. On the matter of Baron Mayendorff he explained that De László had thought the problem with sending money abroad lay in the fact that it depleted the funds in Britain and so had given the baron a cheque for £200 on the understanding that the money be held or spent in London and a similar sum transmitted from abroad. He said that it was Mayendorff’s idea to do this and that, of course, Mayendorff was a gentleman and one of Britain’s allies. He rather cavalierly dismissed the phrase in Mayendorff’s letter advising that the money transfer hadn’t worked ‘to the address given’ and explained that, as far as could be discovered, the money had been returned to Mayendorff’s bank and had never reached Hungary. He explained how De László had stopped using the diplomatic bag having heard Mr van Swinderen discussing the matter on the telephone, and produced the letter inviting De László to lunch that provided the date the conversation took place.