This time Wilson’s mood was completely different from how it had been four months ago. Then he had been full of energy, self-confidence and optimism. He believed that together with Chamberlain he was about to inscribe a new and glorious page into the book of European ‘appeasement’. Now W. looked somewhat gloomy, anxious and faded. And conversations with him assumed a despondent, almost panicky tone.

Indeed, the flowers have shed their petals and the fires died out…

W. avoided talking about Italy. Hitler clearly inspires panic in him. He expects little but trouble from him. The four-power pact has retreated to a hazy distance. Czechoslovakia is the key problem today. If it is lost, the creation of ‘Mitteleuropa’ will be inevitable. Wilson has thought through what I was telling him about ‘Mitteleuropa’ in May. He now fully agrees with me that such a formidable imperialist combination is more dangerous to Britain and France than to the USSR. But what is to be done? How to act? You could feel from W.’s mood that he was prepared to pay off Germany at any price.

‘But if you are so well aware of the paramount importance of the Czechoslovak problem,’ I remarked, ‘why is Britain unwilling to take a clear and resolute stand? It could indeed restrain Hitler and prevent war.’

In reply, W. began to harp on the usual English tune. Public opinion ‘won’t understand’ a war over Czechoslovakia, the dominions are against the interference of their mother country in European affairs, the British rearmament programme is far from being completed (the production of aeroplanes only began to accelerate last July). France, Britain’s closest ally, is internally weak in financial, political and military terms (French aviation is not up to the mark, etc.). If only the conflict could be postponed for twelve or at least six months, Britain would feel stronger and everything would be different.

This familiar tune drove me out of my wits and I took the bull by the horns: ‘Let us assume,’ I began, ‘that public opinion won’t agree “to fight for Czechoslovakia”, as you say, though in fact the matter concerns not so much Czechoslovakia as the future of the British Empire. Let us assume this is really so, but isn’t it possible to put forward a slogan that is more comprehensible and closer to the ordinary Englishman, such as, “We will back France under any conditions”? You know perfectly well that such a slogan can be presented to the public in a very impressive and convincing way (W. nodded his head in consent). Why can’t you do this? Why can’t the British government, instead of just flowing with the stream of public opinion, take the lead and direct it? Isn’t this within the British government’s capabilities? (W. nodded once again.) Were England to tell the world that it would back France under any circumstances, i.e. also in the event of a war with Germany caused by the Czechoslovakia issue, then everything would be done and dusted! Hitler wouldn’t risk “jumping” into Czechoslovakia.’

‘But we have never gone so far in our promises to France,’ Wilson exclaimed in virtual despair.

‘Tell me,’ I rejoined, ‘if France were for any reason dragged into a dangerous war that posed a threat to her very existence, would Britain leave her to the mercy of fate?’

‘Of course not!’ W. replied firmly.

‘Then why not say so openly? All the more so as such a declaration would assure not only the safety of Czechoslovakia, but also the preservation of peace in Europe.’

W. shrugged his shoulders and began thinking aloud. Of course, a resolute statement like that could, quite probably, forestall a war. But that means challenging Germany! What for? To avert a hypothetical danger that will not become pressing for a few more years? How can one take responsibility for this? Fine if Hitler becomes scared. But what if he doesn’t? What if he charges on? It’s terrifying! No, better to wait and see. Maybe things will sort themselves out one way or another.

This is how the chief adviser to the prime minister feels today.

W. told me many amusing things about Runciman’s ‘work’ in Prague.

‘You know Runciman,’ he said with a smile, ‘he is a nice man but phenomenally lazy, physically and intellectually. He never listens to the people he is talking to. His secretary takes notes of the conversation and gives him a report. It has been the same in Prague up to now. Deputies from various parties and groups came to Runciman and delivered long speeches (the continentals are fond of talking). Runciman would sit there like a sage – the pose that he manages so brilliantly – turning a deaf ear to his visitor’s words. At the end of the speech, he would ask the man to give him a memo so that he could make a better evaluation of his wishes. Of course, no one refused. As a result, Runciman was inundated with reports, dissertations, etc., which he wouldn’t read, but would pass on to Ashton-Gwatkin or someone else on the staff.’

Such is life in its prosaic, unvarnished state.

However, the initial stage of Runciman’s ‘work’ is coming to an end. ‘Absorbing the mood’ cannot last forever. Now he has to sum things up and draw conclusions. So far Runciman has merely been putting pressure on the Czechs, urging them to make ‘reasonable concessions’ and trying to arrange negotiations between the two parties. The ‘third base’ recently offered by the Czechoslovak government is a major step forward, but it is still not enough. If Henlein rejects the ‘third base’, Runciman will probably try to work out his own plan and offer it to the parties concerned for consideration. His plan will certainly be more amenable to Henlein than the ‘third base’ (the country’s division into 20–30 cantons, based on the Swiss pattern).

‘Do you expect Runciman’s plan to resolve the Sudeten problem?’

‘If Hitler allows it. It wouldn’t be too difficult to reach a compromise between the Czechoslovak government and Henlein if the latter could act on his own. But Hitler is shadowing him – that’s the problem.’

‘And what are you going to do if Runciman’s mission eventually fails and Hitler decides on direct action?’

W. shrugged his shoulders and made a helpless gesture.

As he departed, W. asked me about the functioning of the Anglo-Soviet trade agreement, in the drawing up of which he had played a leading role on the British side. I replied that we were satisfied with the agreement and were not planning to raise the question of any revisions. W. greeted this piece of information as an author would accept a compliment on his work, and expressed the opinion that, despite the opposition of some British industrialist groups, it was not worth changing the agreement. Should the industrialists’ complaints become too vociferous, specific ways could be found to satisfy their claims. I fully agreed with W.

‘There is nothing more solid than the temporary!’ I laughed, alluding to the fact that our agreement bears the name, ‘Temporary Trade Agreement’.

‘You are absolutely right,’ rejoined W.