In this magical setting you can hardly believe that the world is on the brink of a great catastrophe. Or maybe it isn’t?

It’s Saturday. Very few League commissions hold their sessions today. M.M. [Litvinov] and I devote the morning to strolling and shopping. Everybody recognizes M.M. They gaze and even point their fingers at him – not with animosity but, on the contrary, almost always with sympathy and respect. As we crossed a small square near Rue de Rhone, a touching episode occurred. A cyclist, who looked like a skilled worker or a junior clerk, was riding towards us. He stopped abruptly under our very noses, quickly jumped off his iron horse, raised his hat and exclaimed: ‘Bravo, Litvinov!’

We wandered about for quite a while, buying barometers, thermometers, envelopes, paper and other small things. Crossing the bridge and looking down at the clear blue water foaming along noisily beneath us, I couldn’t help remarking: ‘What a glorious day. Such fine weather.’

‘Stop it,’ M.M. grumbled back. ‘You’re inviting bad weather for tomorrow.’

Tomorrow, Sunday, he plans his usual jaunt into the countryside by car.

‘When Surits plays cards, he always begins by yelling, “Wonderful cards! Beautiful!”, and then, as a rule ends up with nothing.’

M.M. was half-grumbling, half-laughing. But still!… Even he is not immune from something like superstition.

Towards evening Agniya returned from her trip around Switzerland. She’s got a tan, looks refreshed and is simply delighted with everything she’s seen and heard. Excellent.

In Godesberg, it transpires, Hitler presented the British prime minister with a series of new and unexpected demands. Chamberlain had assumed that only the details of the implementation of the ‘Anglo-French plan’ remained to be discussed with the ‘Führer’, following its acceptance by Czechoslovakia; but now he found himself caught in a trap. Yesterday he had to break off the talks and resort to correspondence. Chamberlain sent two letters to Hitler in the course of one day. In the first, he asked Hitler for guarantees that force would not be used while the talks were ongoing, and offered his ‘compromise’ solutions. As I was informed today, there are two major difficulties: (1) Hitler’s claims now extend not only over the territories with 50% German population but also over a number of areas with a predominantly Czechoslovak population; and (2) he absolutely insists that the territories to be transferred to Germany under the Anglo-French plan should be occupied by German troops on 1 October. Hitler is not interested in compromises. He answered the prime minister’s first letter with a lengthy statement about the persecution of Sudeten Germans in Czechoslovakia and held fast to his positions. Then Chamberlain sent Hitler a second letter, in which he said that he was ready to communicate Germany’s new claims to Czechoslovakia and that, seeing no use in his remaining in Godesberg, he was returning home immediately. Late in the evening of 23 September, Chamberlain had one further meeting with Hitler, at which the latter handed some sort of a memorandum to the British prime minister. What kind of memorandum? What is its essence? Nobody has anything definite to say about it.

(1) By 1 October the Czechs are to evacuate and transfer to the Germans all the territories that are specified as subject for transfer in the ‘Anglo-French plan’, i.e. the areas where the German population exceeds 50% (shaded in red on the map appended by Hitler to the memorandum).

(2) A plebiscite shall be held no later than 25 November in a number of other areas where the German population is less than 50% (shaded in green on the map). Most of these areas are of great economic or strategic importance.

(3) The territories to be evacuated shall be transferred to the Germans ‘complete and intact’, i.e. with all the military, economic, transport and other facilities, including radio stations, aerodromes, etc. Also subject to transfer are: raw materials, rolling stock, commodities, foodstuffs, livestock, etc., including those owned by private persons. Germany agrees to attach Czechoslovak representatives to the German army headquarters for the settling of all details concerning the evacuation.

(4) The Czechoslovak government shall immediately set free all the Germans doing service in the Czechoslovak army and police, as well as all the Germans kept in prisons on political grounds.

(5) The final border between Czechoslovakia and Germany is to be fixed by a Czech–German or an international commission. The plebiscite is to be organized under the supervision of an international commission on the basis of the census taken on 28 October 1918, with both sides withdrawing their troops from the respective territories during the plebiscite.

(6) Germany proposes the creation of a Czech–German commission to agree all subsequent details.

Such are the contents of this intriguing document. Appetite comes with eating. After Berchtesgaden, it would seem, Hitler’s appetite grew considerably. That’s no surprise, given Chamberlain’s conduct there. But will even Chamberlain be able to swallow Hitler’s impertinent demands? And will the French swallow them? This is the crux of the matter now. It would seem that London and Paris ought to choke on the Godesberg ultimatum. But who knows?

Chamberlain sent Hitler’s memorandum to Prague directly from Godesberg. But the plane that was meant to bring this document to the Czechoslovak government landed somewhere on the way. So Halifax handed the memorandum to Masaryk today. The following conversation took place:

Halifax. Neither I nor the prime minister thinks it possible to advise you on Mr Hitler’s memorandum. But I would like to tell you man to man: think well before giving a negative answer. The prime minister is convinced that Mr Hitler desires only the Sudetenland and that, if he receives it, he won’t make any further demands.

Masaryk. And you believe this?

Halifax (sharply). I told you, the PM is convinced of it.

Masaryk. If neither you nor the prime minister wants to give us advice on the memorandum, what then is the role of the PM?

Halifax. The role of a postman, and nothing else.

Masaryk. Should I understand that the British prime minister has become an errand boy for that killer and brigand, Hitler?

Halifax (embarrassed). Yes, if you so wish.

Our démarche made a huge impression on Geneva and raised spirits in Prague considerably.

Yesterday Beneš, concurrently with the declaration of Czech mobilization, notified the Soviet government about the measures he had taken and asked the USSR to do its utmost to defend Czechoslovakia in compliance with the Soviet–Czech pact.

Yesterday it was announced on the London radio that the Soviet chargé d’affaires had been summoned for a talk at the Foreign Office. This sounded highly significant. So significant that yesterday, during a meeting with M.M. and myself, De La Warr referred to it as a symptom and a démarche parallel to the one he was presented with in Geneva. As soon as I returned to the hotel, I phoned Kagan to ask him what all the fuss was about.

I burst out laughing once I had heard Kagan out. He did indeed visit the Foreign Office today. What for? Plymouth had invited him. Why? Plymouth wanted to talk to him about Hemming’s forthcoming trip to Burgos, where he was going to hold talks with Franco about the notorious plan for the evacuation of ‘volunteers’. So far we had been categorically opposed to such a trip, but perhaps we had changed our minds?

Truly, comedy is running hand in hand with tragedy. Today De La Warr confessed to me that when he mentioned the fact of Kagan’s visit to the Foreign Office yesterday he had no idea about the matter at hand. He had simply relied on the radio and had drawn his own conclusions.