How did it happen?

It happened like this. The MPs spent the weekend in their constituencies, put their ears to the ground, and were back by Tuesday, 7 May, as quite different people from those who had left on the 3rd. For the ‘ground’ – the country and voting public – is deeply unhappy with the way the war is being conducted, and is agitated and alarmed about the future of England. These feelings found vivid expression in the debates of the past two days, and led to Chamberlain’s downfall.

The House presented a very curious spectacle yesterday and today.

Chamberlain, Hoare, Stanley and, last of all, Churchill spoke on behalf of the government. The first three were very weak. Chamberlain’s speech was simply rot.

Even the sympathetic Dawson described it as ‘a lame performance’; Dawson papers, diary, Box 44, 7 May 1940.

Hoare, jerking his leg, related in a thin, sharp voice various trivial details about the raids, landing and take-offs of British aircraft in Norway. Hoare is the air minister, and all these details would be of interest to specialists, who might even find them inspiring. But to devote his whole speech to such things at such a moment (when the fate of the government hung in the balance and the entire conduct of the war was the object of the sharpest criticism) – does this not show him up as a political pygmy? Stanley (the war minister) was a bit better, but only relatively so. Taken together, their speeches, far from raising the reputation of the government, did it significant harm. Churchill’s speech made some amends. It was interesting and brilliant, but unconvincing. Churchill tried to defend the government in its Norwegian epic, and a part of his speech was given over to fiery exchanges with the Labourites who were attacking him. Defending Chamberlain is a difficult task, and it brought Churchill no laurels.

The attack on the government was, on the contrary, exceptionally sharp, brilliant, and at times simply devastating. Lloyd George was his inimitable self. When Churchill made an attempt to shield the government, Lloyd George remarked, to the raucous laughter of the Chamber, that Churchill ‘must not allow himself to be converted into an air-raid shelter to keep the splinters from hitting his colleagues’.

Turning to Chamberlain, the old man concluded his speech with the words: ‘there is nothing which can contribute more to victory in this war than that he should sacrifice the seals of office!’

His precise wording was: ‘I say solemnly that the Prime Minister should give an example of sacrifice because there is nothing which can contribute more to victory in this war than that he should sacrifice the seals of office’; Hansard, HC Deb 8 May 1940, vol. 360, col. 1283.

Morrison’s attack on the government, and on Chamberlain personally, was astonishingly fierce and ended with a call for the resignation of the prime minister, Simon and Hoare. Duff Cooper spoke brilliantly and was the first among the government’s supporters to declare that he would vote against it. His speech made a great impression. Amery also demanded the resignation of the government. Admiral Keyes,

Roger Keyes, admiral, director of combined operations, 1940–41.

who arrived in parliament in full dress uniform with all his decorations, spoke to exceptional effect on behalf of the navy. Keyes is a poor speaker and practically read out his lines. He stumbled, got confused and agitated, and for precisely those reasons produced a very moving speech. Keyes, who distinguished himself in the last war during the raid on Zeebrugge from land and sea, attacked the government for its failure at Trondheim. Keyes is firmly convinced that Trondheim could have been captured. He had proposed leading the operation himself and assuming full responsibility for its outcome, but the government declined his proposal and beat an inglorious retreat from Norway. Keyes’ words had the effect of shells fired from 16-inch guns. Almost all MPs present who were connected with military affairs – representatives of the naval, air and land branches – spoke against the government and its conduct of the war. It was very significant.

Yesterday, on the first day of the debates, it was still unclear whether Labour was going to request a vote of no confidence. The Labourites themselves were vacillating. Many were saying that the vote might benefit the government: party discipline would ensure a massive government majority and the effect produced by the debates would thereby suffer. But it became obvious this morning that the storm was reaching a crescendo. Not only Labourites and Liberals, but also many, many Tories had reached breaking point. The iron was hot, and Labour declared that it would demand a vote.

Churchill’s concluding speech and his fiery exchange with Labour had raised the temperature in the Chamber considerably. The no-confidence vote demanded by Labour added more fuel to the fire. When the voting began and the MPs started walking out through two doors, the Chamber buzzed like a disturbed bee-hive. The tension reached its peak when the tellers came in, approached the Speaker’s chair, and announced in the dead silence of the House: ‘The vote of no confidence is rejected by a majority of 281 to 200.’

Triumphant roars erupted like a storm from the opposition benches. Chamberlain sat in his place, white as chalk. For although the vote of no confidence had been rejected, the government’s majority had never fallen so low.

Kennedy, who sat next to Maisky in the gallery, noted in his diary: ‘The Prime Minister looked stunned and while he appeared to carry it off, he looked to me like a definitely beaten man’; Smith, Hostage to Fortune, p. 422.

Normally the majority commanded by the government reached 200 at least; now it had dropped to 81. Regardless of all the intimidations of Margesson (chief whip), more than 80 Conservatives abstained, while 42 voted against the government. And they were some 42! Amery, Duff Cooper, Lady Astor, Boothby, Macmillan, Hore-Belisha, Nicolson and others.

The two-day-long debates ended in Chamberlain’s crushing political defeat. I heard the following remark in the lobby: ‘Finland finished off Daladier, and Norway finished off Chamberlain.’

I met Lloyd George in the parliament restaurant before the vote. The old man was very excited and in high spirits.

‘Well, Chamberlain is done for,’ he exclaimed. ‘He might hold on for a few weeks… You know, a duck with a broken leg still flutters its wings, but its fate has been decided. The same with Neville.’

He changed the subject abruptly and asked me: ‘Where will Hitler go next? What do you think?’

‘No one can vouch for Hitler,’ I replied, ‘but I think the Balkans are the least probable direction for him now.’

‘I say the same’, Lloyd George responded with feeling. ‘Hitler will now attack Holland!’

‘Very possibly,’ I agreed.