Yesterday I gave a lecture on planning in the USSR at Cambridge. The lecture was arranged by the Marshall Society. Marshall’s

Sir Alfred Marshall, after whom the Cambridge Marshall Society was named in 1927 to promote discussion of economics.

widow is still alive. She is 80, rides a bicycle, and works diligently every day in the library bequeathed by her husband to Cambridge University and managed to all intents and purposes by the Marshall Society. This curious old lady sat in the first row at my lecture and took notes all the time. Agniya, who came to Cambridge with me and was introduced to Mrs Marshall, was congratulated by her on my success. That’s how robust people are in England!

My lecture really was a great success. I structured it as follows: history of Soviet planning, methods of planning, planning apparatus, results of planning (basically, the most important achievements of the five-year plans). The meeting was held in the Arts School. The main lecture hall, which can hold 500 students, was packed to the rafters, with people sitting on windowsills and the bare floor or perching on pillars and various platforms located in the hall. The audience consisted mostly of students, with a smattering of teachers and professors. I couldn’t help recalling our student gatherings of years ago. I was greeted with loud applause. During the lecture, which lasted for about an hour, the audience was intently silent. Many took notes. When it was all over, there was a storm of applause and prolonged stamping. The lecture was itself often interrupted by applause (in response to citations from Lenin, a statement that the world crisis stopped at the borders of the USSR, etc.). Then I was bombarded with questions, some of which were intended to trip me up; but there were not many of those. Most were to the point. My every successful riposte was met by generous clapping. On the whole, the friendliness of the audience was beyond doubt.

After the lecture we had tea at Trinity College, in David Layton’s flat (David is the son of Sir Walter Layton,

Sir Walter Layton, editor of the Economist, 1922–38; director-general of programmes, Ministry of Supply, 1940–42.

the editor of The Economist), and chatted indefatigably about a great variety of topics. There were about 15 people, smoking, making a racket, knocking over cups – i.e. behaving just as one would expect at a noisy student gathering. My general impression is that young people in Cambridge are at the crossroads. They have serious qualms about the past, and they are seeking something new to meet the demands of the present. It is a condition full of promise and danger: who will catch the mood of the young? The right or the left? Fascists or communists? For the present, the fascists have the better chances, and that is where the main danger lies.

It is doubtful whether Maisky was privy to the recruitment in Cambridge at that time of Philby, Burgess, Blunt and Maclean as Soviet spies, though he was well aware of – and exploited – the great sympathy felt towards the Soviet Union in certain student circles.

It was past 11 p.m. when we left Cambridge. White (our driver) lost his way, so we reached home at around three in the morning.