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Table of Contents
The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 3
  • 10 January
  • 19 January
  • 20 January
  • 22 January
  • 26 January
  • 27 January
  • 30 January
  • 3 February
  • 4 February
  • 6 February
  • 11 February
  • 13 February
  • 14 February
  • 15 February
  • 17 February
  • 18 February
  • 20 February
  • 23 February
  • 25 February
  • 27 February
  • 28 February
  • 2 March
  • 7 March
  • 8 March
  • 9 March
  • 12 March
  • 14 March
  • 15 March
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 19 March
  • 20 March
  • 22 March
  • 23 March
  • 25 March
  • 29 March
  • 31 March
  • 1 April
  • 6 April
  • 11 April
  • 12 April
  • 14 April
  • 15 April
  • 16 April
  • 17 April
  • 18 April
  • 28 April
  • 29 April
  • 30 April
  • 1 May
  • 2 May
  • 3 May
  • 4 May
  • 6 May
  • 9 May
  • 11 May
  • 15 May
  • 16 May
  • 17 May
  • 18 May
  • 19 May
  • 21 May
  • 22 May
  • 23 May
  • 25 May
  • 26 May
  • 27 May
  • 28 May
  • 30 May
  • 3 June
  • 8 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 16 June
  • 17 June
  • 22 June
  • 23 June
  • 25 June
  • 28 June
  • 29 June
  • 30 June
  • 1 July
  • 2 July
  • 4 July
  • 5 July
  • 6 July
  • 7 July
  • 12 July
  • 13 July
  • 14 July
  • 15 July
  • 18 July
  • 22 July
  • 25 July
  • 28 July
  • 30 July
  • 4 August
  • 5 August
  • 6 August
  • 11 August
  • 20 August
  • 21 August
  • 22 August
  • 23 August
  • 24 August
  • 26 August
  • 28 August
  • 29 August
  • 30 August
  • 31 August
  • 1 September
  • 2 September
  • 3 September
  • 4 September
  • 2 September
  • 7 September
  • 8 September
  • 9 September
  • 12 September
  • 13 September
  • 14 September
  • 15 September
  • 17 September
  • 19 September
  • 20 September
  • 21 September
  • 22 September
  • 23 September
  • 27 September
  • 28 September
  • 29 September
  • 3 October
  • 4 October
  • 6 October
  • 7 October
  • 11 October
  • 12 October
  • 13 October
  • 14 October
  • 16 October
  • 17 October
  • 19 October
  • 21 October
  • 24 October
  • 26 October
  • 27 October
  • 28 October
  • 30 October
  • 31 October
  • 2 November
  • 3 November
  • 7 November
  • 9 November
  • 10 November
  • 13 November
  • 14 November
  • 15 November
  • 16 November
  • 18 November
  • 20 November
  • 21 November
  • 22 November
  • 27 November
  • 28 November
  • 29 November
  • 1 December
  • 3 December
  • 5 December
  • 8 December
  • 12 December
  • 14 December
  • 15 December
  • 21 December
  • 23 December
  • 24 December
  • 25 December
  • 31 December
  • 2 January
  • 3 January
  • 4 January
  • 5 January
  • 7 January
  • 8 January
  • 11 January
  • 14 January
  • 15 January
  • 18 January
  • 19 January
  • 20 January
  • 21 January
  • 23 January
  • 25 January
  • 26 January
  • 27 January
  • 29 January
  • 30 January
  • 31 January
  • 2 February
  • 7 February
  • 8 February
  • 9 February
  • 10 February
  • 11 February
  • 15 February
  • 19 February
  • 21 February
  • 25 February
  • 8 March
  • 11 March
  • 12 March
  • 13 March
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • Conversation with Butler on 18 March 1940
  • 19 March
  • 23 March
  • 27 March
  • Conversation with Halifax on 27 March 1940
  • 28 March
  • 29 March
  • 1 April
  • 2 April
  • 4 April
  • 5 April
  • 6 April
  • 8 April
  • 9 April
  • 10 April
  • 11 April
  • 12 April
  • 13 April
  • 15 April
  • 16 April
  • 17 April
  • 18 April
  • 22 April
  • 27 April
  • 28 April
  • 2 May
  • 4 May
  • 7 May
  • 8 May
  • 13 May
  • 14 May
  • 15 May
  • 17 May
  • 18 May
  • 19 May
  • 20 May
  • 21 May
  • 22 May
  • 23 May
  • 24 May
  • 25 May
  • 26 May
  • 28 May
  • 1 June
  • 4 June
  • 5 June
  • 6 June
  • 10 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 14 June
  • 15 June
  • 16 June
  • 17 June
  • 18 June
  • 23 June
  • 25 June
  • 27 June
  • 28 June
  • 29 June
  • 30 June
  • 1 July
  • 2 July
  • 3 July
  • 4 July
  • 5 July
  • 6 July
  • 7 July
  • 8 July
  • 9 July
  • 10 July
  • 11 July
  • 12 July
  • 22 July
  • 23 July
  • 25 July
  • 26 July
  • 27 July
  • 28 July
  • 31 July
  • 5 August
  • 6 August
  • 7 August
  • 10 August
  • 14 August
  • 15 August
  • 17 August
  • 18 August
  • 20 August
  • 22 August
  • 30 August
  • 31 August
  • 1 September
  • 6 September
  • 7 September
  • 8 September
  • 9 September
  • 10 September
  • 13 September
  • 14 September
  • 16 September
  • 17 September
  • 4 October
  • 6 October
  • 9 October
  • 10 October
  • 12 October
  • 13 October
  • 20 October
  • 22 October
  • 2 November
  • 4 November
  • 5 November
  • 11 November
  • 12 November
  • 19 November
  • 30 November
  • 1 December
  • 2 December
  • 11 December
  • 12 December
  • 16 December
  • 19 December
  • 27 December
  • 28 December
  • 29 December
  • 30 December
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© 2025
The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2
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By Gorodetsky, Gabriel

The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2

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Page iii

THE COMPLETE MAISKY DIARIES VOLUME 2
THE RIBBENTROP-MOLOTOV PACT AND
THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
1939-1940
EDITED BY GABRIEL GORODETSKY Translated by Tatiana Sorokina and Oliver Ready Yale University Press New Haven and London


Page i

Annals of Communism


Page ii



Page iv

Print Publishing Information
Copyright © 2017 by Gabriel Gorodetsky.
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, including illustrations, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publishers.
Published with the permission of the Scheffer-Voskressenski family—Ivan Maisky’s heirs.
Photographs from Agniya Maisky’s album are published with the permission of the Voskressenski family, owners of the copyright and Ivan Maisky’s heirs.
Yale University Press books may be purchased in quantity for educational, business, or promotional use. For information, please e-mail sales.press@yale.edu (U.S. office) or sales@yaleup.co.uk (U.K. office).
Set in Minion Pro and ITC Stone Sans type by Newgen.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017942542
ISBN 978-0-300-11782-0 (hardcover : alk. paper)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


Page v

Contents
Volume 1. The Rise of Hitler and the Gathering Clouds of War Acknowledgements ix Introduction xiii The Making of a Soviet Diplomat xxxi Prelude 1 1934 8 1935 73 1936 148 1937 184 1938 251 Notes to Volume 1 399 Volume 2. The Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact and the Battle of Britain 1939 443 1940 713 Notes to Volume 2 961 Volume 3. The German Invasion of Russia and the Forging of the Grand Alliance 1941 987 1942 1209 1943 1330 End of an Era: Maisky’s Recall 1476 The Price of Fame: A Late Repression 1492


Page viii

Notes to Volume 3 1507
Select Bibliography 1547 Illustration Credits 1565 Index of Names and Places 1567


Page 443

1939
10 January
A new year. What will it bring?
I anticipate a stormy and difficult year, perhaps even a decisive one for our epoch. We shall see…
We celebrated the New Year in Paris. Agniya and I got away for five or six days to have a change of scene. We were sick and tired of our customary London surroundings. We had a good time. Spent much of it wandering around Paris – a wonderful city! What a shame that it is the capital of a country in deep decay. We visited museums, picture galleries and theatres – we saw nearly all the fashionable plays – and, of course, I chatted a lot with S. [Surits] about various political topics.
I returned to London on the 4th, but Agniya is still in Paris. She should be back on the 15th.


Page 444

I brought a cold home from Paris. I somehow made it back, but I more or less had to take to my bed on arrival. But even this state has its charms: I’m reading a great deal. I rarely get the chance – the newspapers and the daily hustle and bustle get in the way.
19 January
I congratulate you, Ivan Mikhailovich, on an important birthday: today you are 55 years old!
I’ve lived more than half a century. And what a time to live! The thread of my life has stretched along the boundary of two great epochs: the end of capitalism and the beginning of socialism.
I’ve experienced and lived through a lot, thought and felt a great deal during these 55 years. There have been plenty of good things and bad things. But still, when I sum it all up I have to say: ‘To life!’
What does the future hold? Who can say?
Looking back now, I can see that my life has included a fair quantity of ‘elements of a planned character’ in spite of its turbulent current, its numerous jolts and unexpected twists and turns. I was able to set myself definite tasks, sometimes years in advance, and to carry them out. Perseverance and good organization are aspects of my character. And now, when I think of the future, I still cannot get by without some sort of ‘plan’.
What does my ‘plan’ amount to?
Leaving aside unpredictable and unexpected events, which our time has more than enough of, I am mapping out the following tentative ‘plan for the end of my life’ (the end, after all, is not so far off).
Judging by my current state of health (and leaving aside, once again, unforeseen incidents and circumstances), I can hope to live to about 75. So I have about 20 years at my disposal. I am dividing this period into two more or less equal parts. The next ten years, until I turn 65, can be devoted to active work in the service of the party and the state, that is, in the service of socialism. Considering my experience, knowledge, training and so on, it would be most expedient for me to remain in the sphere of foreign policy. The following ten years, between the ages of 65 and 75, should be devoted to summing up and ‘rounding off’ my life, and specifically to writing my memoirs, which I may choose to entitle ‘The Novel of My Life’. For the events of my life (until now, at least) really have resembled those of a very colourful and entertaining novel. I would feel that I had failed in my duty towards the older and younger generations and to future historians if I died without leaving a ‘human document’, such as my memoirs would represent. The epoch of which I was a contemporary and in which I played a part has provided an infinite supply of interesting and deeply


Page 445

instructive events, and there are few people who wield a pen with sufficient skill to commit them to paper. This places a very special responsibility on every writer.
Judging by many indications, the second imperialist war may reach its climax within the next ten years, that is, within the remaining period of my full activity. I’ll make every effort to facilitate its liquidation with maximum advantage for the cause of socialism. Then (if I stay alive) I will have an even greater store of vivid and rich material for my memoirs.
20 January
I saw Vansittart after a six-week interval. I found him in a state of great anxiety. The situation in Europe, he believes, is exceptionally dangerous: 1939 is going to be a critical year (I heard the same from Cadogan the other day). Hitler and Mussolini are intoxicated by their success. They have lost their equilibrium and are preparing for crazy adventures. Hitler, in particular, is now setting global domination as his goal. Both dictators think that the time is ripe for action: they are gambling on ‘defects in armaments’ and ‘internal discord’ in Britain and France, as well as on ‘isolationist sentiments’ and ‘domestic weakness’ in the Soviet Union. Growing economic difficulties are also pushing Hitler and Mussolini towards foreign adventures. An explosion is inevitable in the near future, but where? In the west, most likely, but one cannot rule out the east either. If the Spanish government is finally crushed, Mussolini will immediately make heavy demands on France. He will be guaranteed the support of Germany. A decisive moment will then ensue for Britain and France. Vansittart believes that on this occasion the reaction of the two ‘democracies’ will be sharply negative. If the dictators try to resort to force, war will be a firm possibility. In this connection, Vansittart inquired about our position and asserted that the interests of Britain, France and the USSR are identical and that Hitler’s tactics are to crush one country after another, just as an artichoke is eaten one leaf at a time.
I observed that Vansittart was making his points to the wrong party. The USSR has always supported collective security, but what about Britain and France? In the last three years they have systematically undermined the principles of the L[eague] of N[ations]. I fail to see any signs that might indicate a shift in their attitude. On the contrary, there are signs to suggest that they are sinking ever deeper in that swamp.
‘What do you mean?’ Vansittart asked.
‘Take for instance the fuss, kicked up by some groups of British industrialists and evidently supported by the Board of Trade, about the demand for the renunciation of the Anglo-Soviet trade agreement.’


Page 446

Vansittart, who was clearly not up to date on this matter, asked me to acquaint him with the details. I was only too glad to brief him and pointed out that, given the present alignment of forces, Britain would not be able to obtain a more advantageous agreement under any conditions, even if the current one were renounced. For, in the past five years, the USSR has become considerably stronger and wealthier, and less dependent on imports than it was when the present agreement was signed.
‘In February 1934,’ I concluded, ‘I recommended my government to accept the agreement which was then signed. If I had to conduct trade negotiations again now, I would not consider it possible to recommend signing a similar document. The alignment of forces has changed in our favour and this would have to be reflected in the character of the trade agreement.’
Vansittart was concerned. He thought it absurd to renounce the agreement just because we were buying more re-exports than purely British goods. The political effect of the renunciation would far outweigh its potential economic consequences.
‘Renunciation would be most unfortunate,’ Vansittart concluded.
And he immediately asked his secretary to summon Collier after lunch so as to discuss the matter with him.
22 January
Saw Attlee. He is in low spirits. Says that the ground is crumbling under Chamberlain, but that Labour is gaining nothing from it. The average voter is perturbed and perplexed; he is unhappy with the government and has no trust in the opposition. If an election were called today, Chamberlain would win again – unconvincingly, perhaps, but he would win.
Attlee’s foreign-policy forecast is the following: if Franco wins, Mussolini will immediately make demands on France and Hitler will back him up. How will France respond? It all depends on the nature of the demands. If Mussolini shows relative moderation, France may meekly swallow the pill. But if Mussolini asks too high a price, then… then it is difficult to say what may happen. One cannot rule out the possibility that France will have to put up resistance, and England will support her.
26 January
Barcelona has fallen. The very thought of it makes my heart bleed. Over the past two and a half years, when fate has bound me so closely to the fortunes of Spain, I identified with the heroic struggle of the Spanish Republic. Its victories were my victories, and its defeats my defeats. Strange as it may seem, it’s as


Page 447

if we, in the Soviet Union, suddenly rediscovered the Spanish people afresh. Never in the past have the destinies of Spain and Russia intersected. We knew little about this country and her people. We never took an interest in them. It is only now, in the din and thunder of the Spanish war, that we have suddenly come to understand and feel how wonderful, proud and heroic the Spanish nation is and what reserves of revolutionary energy it has accumulated over long years of oppression and suffering…
Barcelona has fallen. I fear that this is the beginning of the end.
Azcárate came to see me today. Despite the tragic events, he has not lost his fortitude and dignity. He has just returned from Geneva (the League of Nations) and Paris. He informed me that yesterday there was a meeting of the Spanish government and the Basque and Catalan presidents in the new temporary ‘capital’, Figueres, right by the French border. The decision was taken to continue fighting. The mountains of northern Catalonia are better suited for defensive operations. The people in these parts have been distinguished since ancient times for showing greater staunchness and martial spirit than the inhabitants of the Catalan plains. The border between France and Spain is now open. Arms are coming in. In short, the situation is difficult, but not hopeless.
I listened to Azcárate and supported him fiercely. But I couldn’t help thinking: will this work?
27 January
I paid a visit to Halifax to discuss the Äland Islands issue.


Page 961

A convention recognizing Finland’s sovereignty over the Äland Islands and their demilitarization was signed by members of the League of Nations in 1921. With the Nazi threat looming, the Finnish and Swedish governments approached the Soviet government, as one of the signatories, with a request to sanction a change in the terms of the agreement which would allow a remilitarization of the islands. This is covered in Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 481, 490–2.
The Finns, backed up by the Swedes, want to fortify the islands. Against whom? The official reply says: against Germany. But, in the first place, even if the Finns wished quite sincerely to remain neutral in the event of war, how could they defend the Äland Islands against occupation by Hitler? Secondly, where are the guarantees that the Finns really will adhere to neutrality? Given the close links that exist between the Finnish militarists and German fascism, there is every reason to fear the opposite. It follows that in both cases the Finns will be serving the German cause by fortifying the Äland Islands. The Germans may even give them money to build the fortifications. In conclusion: we are against the fortification of the Äland Islands and for the preservation of the 1921 convention on their demilitarization.
In light of the fact that the Finns and Swedes recently sent identical notes regarding the fortification of the Äland Islands to all parties to the convention (including Britain) and also to us, I set forth our point of view on the matter to Halifax. This clearly interested him. He summed up our objections in the following way: ‘So you are against the fortification of the Äland Islands because you fear they might end up as a gift to Germany, as happened with the Czech Maginot line?’


Page 448

‘Roughly speaking, yes,’ I answered.
Halifax promised to take our considerations into account when drawing up Britain’s response to the Finno-Swedish démarche, but he would not undertake any firmer commitments. We shall see what happens next. Time is still on our side. The Finns and Swedes want to give us, as a country not party to the convention, the chance to participate in resolving the issue and are putting it on the agenda of the May session of the League’s Council.
Then, on his own initiative, Halifax asked me what I thought about the situation in Europe. I answered vaguely: ‘A new crisis seems to be approaching.’
Halifax agreed with this, but said that it was not quite clear to him where it would come from and what shape it might take. He wished to know my opinion. I put forward the supposition that this time the storm might start at the Italian end of the Axis. Halifax agreed, but added that he was greatly troubled by the situation in Belgium and the Netherlands. Then he continued: ‘Do you think that Mussolini might risk war over his demands on France?’
Halifax finds it improbable that Italy will fight over Tunisia, Djibouti and Corsica. I answered: ‘But Mussolini is counting on a bloodless victory over France, of the sort gained by Hitler over Czechoslovakia last year.’
‘It’s inconceivable!’ Halifax exclaimed with uncharacteristic emotion. ‘France’s attitude to Italy’s demands differs from its attitude to the Sudeten problem. Look, through his declaration Mussolini achieved what not a single Frenchman has ever managed to do: he united France as never before. England will certainly support France. A second Munich is impossible.’
To strengthen his case, Halifax referred to yesterday’s speeches by Daladier and Bonnet in the Chamber. I smiled and replied: ‘We have been through so many disappointments during the past two years that I would not vouch for anything when it comes to the question of how Britain and France might act. Time will tell. As for the speeches made by the French ministers, for now these are only words. As yet, we have seen no deeds. Besides, any statement made by Bonnet is seen…’
Halifax smiled knowingly, nodded, and drawled in a funny way: ‘Oh yes, the attitude to Bonnet’s speeches is…’
‘Somewhat specific,’ I finished off, ‘especially in Germany and Italy.’
Halifax nodded again. Then he asked what I meant by the ‘deeds’ which could testify to the genuine impossibility of a second Munich.
‘Had France,’ I said, ‘seriously intended to resist the Italian demands, the first thing it ought to have done straightaway was to alter radically its Spanish policy. From the French point of view, rendering effective assistance to the Spanish Republic would be not only noble, but advantageous as well. It would be “cheaper” to rebuff Italy on Spanish territory with Spanish forces than on French territory with French forces. Meanwhile, the Daladier–Bonnet


Page 449

government clings stubbornly to the old, obsolete phantom: notorious “non-intervention”. In this context, my doubts are more than valid. But I am not taking any decisions at the moment. I am prepared to wait dispassionately for further developments.’
Halifax recognized the justice of my scepticism, but assured me once again that this time it would be different from last September.
Then Halifax inquired about the state of our relations with Poland and Germany. He was interested, in particular, in press reports about the forthcoming visit of a German delegation to Moscow for trade negotiations. I confirmed that such a delegation was expected, that the initiative came entirely from the German side, and that in keeping with our general principles we were ready to consider the offers Hitler was planning to make. Halifax asked: ‘How would you explain this move by Hitler?’
I replied that to my mind Hitler’s motives are clear: Germany’s need for raw materials and the deterioration in Anglo-Soviet trade relations as a result of the campaign waged by certain groups for the renunciation of the Anglo-Soviet trade agreement of 1934. Following his trusty nose, Hitler hopes to gain from this ‘squabble’.
Halifax was manifestly disturbed and began asking detailed questions about the state of Anglo-Soviet trade and about the campaign against the trade agreement. I provided him with all the essential details.
‘And you think that renunciation would have very adverse political consequences?’ Halifax asked.
‘I have not the slightest doubt.’
‘I will speak about this with the trade minister,’ concluded Halifax in obvious alarm.
30 January
Saw several ‘Soviet Spaniards’ on their way home from Catalonia. Some of them stayed in Spain for a year and a half or two years and have an excellent knowledge of the situation there.
Our ‘Spaniards’ are pessimistic about the fighting prospects in Catalonia. The Republicans have been left with so little territory that the air force has almost no room to manoeuvre. There are no fortified positions in northern Catalonia. It would take at least a month to construct them. In the meantime, Franco continues to attack. Under these circumstances it is very difficult to hold on.
It’s most distressing! It seems that my fears may be realized.
The statistics passed on by our comrades are shocking. The ratio of air forces committed to action in recent battles by the Republic and Franco was 1 to 10 (less than 100 Republican aircraft on all fronts and more than 900 on


Page 450

Franco’s side). Moreover, the Republicans have mainly old and battered aircraft, whereas Franco’s are brand new. Especially grave is the Republicans’ lack of bombers: they have 11 and the insurgents have 300 – roughly 1 to 30! The fighter situation is a bit better: 80 against 600, i.e. about 1 to 8. A similar gap in artillery. Franco can deploy between 50 and 60 pieces per kilometre of the front, against the Republicans’ 7–8. The Republicans have a negligible quantity of anti-aircraft weapons. They have few tanks, machine-guns and even rifles.
And yet such furious and stubborn resistance! Truly, the Republicans have added a bright and glorious page to the annals of history. A heroic army! A heroic struggle!
Our comrades believe that the surrender of Barcelona was partly due to an ingrained flaw in the Spanish character: carelessness. The Catalan army did not exceed 150,000 men; if one includes reserves and so on, not more than 200,000 men. Yet the Spanish government did not set about advancing reinforcements from central Spain, where more than 600,000 men are under arms. But this, of course, is only a partial and secondary cause of failure.
3 February
Visited Butler. Total chaos in the corridors of the Foreign Office: filing cabinets, boxes, heaps of files, bundles of documents, etc. Virtually impossible to get through. I asked the attendant what the matter was. It turns out that the Foreign Office is building an anti-gas shelter and the basement has to be temporarily cleared…
Butler was most friendly and enlarged upon the point that A[nglo]-S[oviet] rapprochement is a fundamental guarantee of peace. So far the British government has not paid proper attention to A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations (B[utler] evidently meant the Chamberlain government), but this was not due to any hostility to the USSR. It simply had its hands full. Now, the situation is different. A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations are high on the agenda. In this connection, Butler mentioned that he had familiarized himself with the record of my conversation with Halifax of 27 January and he is of the view that a renunciation of the Anglo-Soviet trade agreement would be entirely unjustified. He will discuss the matter with Stanley…
Excellent! My pressure clearly yields results.
We compared our impressions of Hitler’s speech of 30 January. Butler gives it a pessimistic appraisal. Hitler has offered carte blanche to Mussolini, who will not be slow to act. Hitler, for his part, will probably take certain steps, too – for instance, in the direction of Holland. In short, a new crisis is in the air. The British, however, are not considering entering into any ‘appeasement’ talks with Hitler. The return of colonies to Germany is out of the question.


Page 451

Were the Germans prepared to content themselves with extended access to colonial raw materials, it would be another matter. In that case, the British government would make considerable compromises. But such a solution does not satisfy Hitler. In these circumstances, there is nothing to do but wait. Talks will take place nonetheless between British and German industrialists – without the participation of politicians, but with their blessing – concerning the elimination, or at least the softening, of rivalry on the world market.
[The ill winds of isolation blowing from the Kremlin in the wake of the Munich Agreement, further accentuated by Litvinov’s depression, disillusion and exclusion from the formulation of policy – increasingly firmly in the hands of Stalin and Molotov – drove Maisky into reclusiveness. But he was himself partly to blame: in his efforts to keep pace with the Kremlin, he had inflamed suspicions in Moscow by suggesting that Chamberlain was ‘deliberately promoting the “Ukrainian direction” of German aggression, in an attempt to prompt Hitler to embark on precisely such a course’.
God Krizisa, I, nos. 65, 66, 77 & 107. See also Bezymenskii, Stalin i Gitler, pp. 149–51.
At the same time, Maisky blatantly ignored his instructions to stay out of things, and instead tried to prod the British into action by sounding the alarm. To judge by Butler’s record of the meeting, Maisky acknowledged that ‘since Munich the Soviet Union had been hesitating before deciding on a policy of complete isolation’ and was bound to be discouraged by Chamberlain’s continued appeasement, which left no room for ‘friendship with Russia’. Maisky was nonetheless faithfully echoing Litvinov’s warnings to Seeds that if France and Great Britain were to ‘continue to capitulate’, the Soviet Union would ‘keep aloof all the more readily as their interests were not directly threatened’. No wonder Butler emerged from the meeting convinced that the Russians were ‘content to wait’ and would ‘pursue an isolationist policy’.
Vansittart papers, VNST 3/2, Seeds to Halifax on meeting Litvinov, 19 Feb. 1939, not mentioned in Litvinov’s report in DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 103; TNA FO 371 23677 N669 & N1342/57/38; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 128. See also Maisky’s concern about isolation in his conversation in the same vein with L. Fischer in Men and Politics, pp. 556–7; J. Harvey (ed.), The Diplomatic Diaries of Oliver Harvey 1937–1940 (London, 1970), pp. 259–60; and Liddell Hart, who gained the impression that Maisky was ‘very anxious about the possibility of Stalin turning away from Litvinov’s policy of trying to create a common front against Hitler’; The Liddell Hart Memoirs, p. 222.
And yet Maisky’s fervent lobbying revealed an ambiguity which often brought him into conflict with Litvinov, who did not subscribe to his appraisal that the Conservatives were undergoing a ‘sobering’ process, that ‘Chamberlain’s road of “appeasement”’ could not be pursued indefinitely, and that the moment was approaching ‘when one will have to say in all firmness: “So far and no further!”’ He remained convinced throughout 1939 that the British and Soviet interests coincided, but he failed to persuade Litvinov. Detesting Maisky’s air of superiority, Litvinov reprimanded him: ‘I am not claiming that my prognosis is watertight, and surprises are surely possible, but those should be reduced to a minimum.’
God Krizisa, I, no. 156, 19 Feb. 1939; see also Roberts, ‘The fall of Litvinov’, p. 647.
Maisky soon reverted to his familiar pattern of seeking to influence the course of Soviet foreign policy by encouraging his interlocutors to usher in ideas which might prompt the Kremlin to alter its policy. Harold Nicolson recorded in his diary how Maisky ‘with his little Kalmuk eyes twinkling around the table’ argued over lunch that Russia, ‘obviously much wounded by Munich’, would not embark on any initiative; but if Britain were to make an approach, she would not ‘find Russia as aloof or offended as we might have supposed’.
Nicolson, Diaries, 9 Feb. 1939.
Likewise, over tea at the embassy, Maisky told Amery that the exclusion of the Soviet Union from Munich had infuriated the Russians and they were ready ‘to break [with the Western powers] altogether’; though ‘nothing would induce them to take the initiative in offering cooperation in case of a crisis in the West, the door was still open if the initiative came from our end’.
Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/32, 15 Feb. 1939; Amery, My Political Life, p. 294.
For the moment, Litvinov’s scepticism was


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spot on. Chamberlain boasted to his sister that he would resist the pressure exerted on him by Churchill to ‘make a grand alliance against Germany … Fortunately my nature is as L[loyd] G[eorge] says extremely “obstinate”, & I refuse to change.’
Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 373.
]
4 February
I learn from a good source that Hitler’s general policy amounts to the following:
His long-range objective is to dismember the USSR and set up a number of ‘independent’ states which would maintain ‘friendly’ relations with Germany.
However, prior to carrying out ‘this large and complicated task’, Hitler considers it necessary to secure his rear in the west by obtaining ‘real guarantees’ from Britain and France that they will not attack him while he is implementing his eastern plans.
What are these ‘real guarantees’?
Here they are:
(1) Britain and France should sign an ‘air pact’ recognizing Germany’s absolute air superiority over both of them (at least at a ratio of 2:1).
(2) Britain and France should return former German colonies, which Hitler needs mainly from the strategic point of view.
Hitler evidently has good taste.
6 February
Dr L. Burgin, the minister of transport, spoke about current political issues over lunch at the embassy today. He believes that Hitler’s latest speech (30 January) bodes ill, that the support Hitler promised to Italy in his speech is of an unconditional nature, and that the next four or five months will be particularly dangerous.
When I asked Burgin what position the British government might take in such circumstances, he first got on his high horse, as they say, and started impressing on me that anti-German sentiments in the country had never been as strong as they are at the moment, and that any concessions to Germany are out of the question. But these general statements failed to satisfy me and when I asked Burgin to define the situation in more concrete terms it turned out, just as I had expected, that non-territorial concessions to Italy (Djibouti, the Suez Canal, the status of Italians in Tunisia, etc.) were entirely ‘discussable’, and that sooner or later at least part of Germany’s former colonies would have to be returned to it, ‘only not Tanganyika or New Guinea’! The ‘atmosphere’ also needed to be improved. Then everything could be settled to general satisfaction.
And Burgin is one of Chamberlain’s closest lieutenants!


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There was an awkward incident during lunch. Palmstierna, who was also present at lunch, started speaking all of a sudden about the dominance of Jews in the British press. He evidently did not know that Burgin is a Jew. I hastened to change the subject.
11 February
Azcárate notifies me that the Spanish government has finally settled in Madrid. He thinks that the ‘intermezzo’, caused by the Spanish army’s retreat to France, when the government got scattered for a while and lingered in France as ‘exiles’, was unreasonably long. The impression was created that the Republic no longer had a government. Franco took full advantage. As did the capitulators in England and France. It has all changed now. Negrín and del Vayo are in Madrid. Some other ministers are there, too. The Spanish government has resumed its activities and embarked on preparations to fight on. It holds solid territory – not Catalan, but real, genuine Spanish – and has a 600,000-strong army, a navy, matériel and gold. The struggle continues. And Azcárate once again feels himself to be the ambassador of the Spanish Republic.
He visited the Foreign Office today. His general impression is that the British government is showing greater diplomatic activity on the Spanish question. It is eager to ‘pacify’ Spain as soon as possible, but preferably on the basis of an ‘English’ formula which would give Great Britain a better chance to exert influence on Spain and would raise Chamberlain’s stock in his own country. The British government has two cards to play: recognition and money. Azcárate asks himself which would be more advantageous for the Spanish government: to discard outright all mediation or to make the British government understand that it would be prepared to cease hostilities on the basis of Negrín’s three points (no reprisals to follow, the withdrawal of foreigners and a plebiscite). He thinks that the second alternative would be the better tactic. He asked my advice. I avoided giving a direct answer, however, and merely recommended that he request Madrid’s opinion.
13 February
Samuel Hoare came over for lunch. Unless I am mistaken, it was his first visit to the Soviet embassy. In the short period he headed the Foreign Office he did not manage to visit. Hudson, the vigorous and clever secretary of the Department of Overseas Trade, was also present.
Hoare is full of ‘optimism’ (recently, he has taken on the role of St George, slaying the dragon of ‘defeatism’ at every step). Although the next six months


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may be difficult and complicated, it will not come to war. Hitler and Mussolini have missed the moment for a major initiative against Western countries. Hoare is also convinced that Hitler will not venture to attack the Ukraine, because he does not want to get stuck in a war that can never end. The growth of British and French armaments, Roosevelt’s speech on 4 January, and Chamberlain’s recent statement promising unconditional assistance to France, have made it clear to Germany and Italy that a second Munich is out of the question. Hitler and Mussolini will not enter a war against Britain and France. The return of their former colonial territories is not a topic for serious discussion. Facilitating their access to raw materials is another matter. Here, if they so wished, certain concessions would be possible. Likewise, France could make some non-territorial concessions to the Italians (Djibouti, the Suez Canal and the status of Italians in Tunisia). Hoare is absolutely certain that Britain and France will succeed in ‘buying’ Franco. This is the essence of the British government’s Spanish policy now. But Hoare does not think that the recognition of Franco could occur unconditionally. In any case, he thinks that even if Franco does win a decisive military victory, a solid and definitively established regime is inconceivable in Spain for at least another five years.
During our conversation, Hoare mentioned that he knew Mussolini personally, having met him during the war, when Mussolini was a corporal in the Italian army and editor of the socialist Avanti. At that time, Mussolini adhered to a far-left, anti-war position, and Hoare, as head of British ‘intelligence’ in Italy, made efforts to convince him to change his mind and follow a different line.
‘I eventually succeeded,’ Hoare said modestly.
‘And how much did it cost you?’ Ewer, who was also sitting at the table, casually asked.
Everyone burst out laughing. Hoare was slightly embarrassed but immediately regained his self-control and answered with a particular smile: ‘One doesn’t talk about these things, but we all know that propaganda costs money.’
The way Hoare spoke about the USSR was entirely unexpected. He lavished praise on our air force and mocked those who speak of the weakness of the Red Army. He said: ‘You are a country which can never be defeated. We, too, are a country which can never be defeated. Both our countries, unlike others, are capable of taking a long-term view when assessing events. It doesn’t matter if things go badly for six weeks or six months; ultimately, both you and we will emerge on top.’
He added: ‘The crucial thing at present is that both you and we are arming.’
What’s more: ‘Our enemies are exactly the same.’


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Goodness gracious, what a turnabout! I’ve never heard anything like that from the lips of Samuel Hoare. There must be something behind it. Something is brewing in the political ‘atmosphere’ here. Hudson was also desperate to tell me something important, but Hoare wouldn’t let him get a word in. He merely managed to remark: ‘We and you are countries that should be trading with one another on a vast scale. On a much greater scale than we see today.’
Incidentally, it transpired over lunch that Hudson speaks some Russian. In his youth he once served as an attaché at the British embassy in St Petersburg.
14 February
Britain and France desperately want to recognize Franco.
Negrín opposed Franco’s demand for an unconditional surrender. He sought in vain French mediation in reaching a peace based on three points: (1) inviolability of the principle of Spain’s independence, (2) a national referendum to establish the form of government in Spain and (3) guaranteed amnesty to the Republicans; Maisky, Spanish Notebooks. On 19 February 1939, Seeds informed Litvinov that Hudson intended to visit Moscow in late March or early April with a view to establishing contact with Soviet leaders and discussing trade opportunities. The Soviet side agreed to see Hudson. On 20 February, Chamberlain announced in the House of Commons that Hudson would visit Warsaw, Helsinki and Moscow. Hudson arrived in Moscow on 23 March 1939 (see DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 103; God Krizisa, I, no. 157, p. 233).
At first, for the sake of appearances, they dallied with the idea of laying down some conditions (the withdrawal of foreigners, amnesty for the Republicans, etc.), but having been rebuffed they capitulated, as they always do, and are now ready to recognize Franco unconditionally. Of course, the weightiest and most noble arguments are adduced in justification of this: Franco must be ‘torn away’ from Germany and Italy, it will be easier to prevent the massacre of the Republicans if British and French ambassadors are in Burgos, etc. All of this [word indecipherable] is sheer hypocrisy which, unfortunately, dupes plenty of fools, including the ‘leftists’.
Azcárate saw Cadogan and Vansittart today. On instructions from del Vayo he put to them the following question: the Spanish government can keep up its resistance for a long time yet, but to avoid useless bloodshed it is ready to end the war on the basis of Negrín’s three points. It would be excellent if the British government could secure the implementation of these points in exchange for the recognition of Franco. If not, and Franco is recognized regardless, the British government would assume moral responsibility for further bloodshed, reprisals and the massacre of the Republicans. According to Azcárate, his arguments visibly impressed his interlocutors, and Cadogan emphatically advised him to see Halifax. At the same time, Cadogan declared that the recognition of Franco was still an open question, while Vansittart said that the British government is not bringing any pressure to bear upon the French government in this matter, giving them total freedom of action.
Meanwhile Bonnet told Pascua
Marcelino Pascua, professor of medicine and a protégé of Negrín; served as Spanish ambassador to Moscow and then to Paris, 1936–39.
yesterday that he personally would not hasten to recognize Franco, but that London was pressing him. Does Bonnet ever, even occasionally, tell the truth? A matter for the psychologists!
In the evening, Agniya and I went to the Swedish embassy to attend a dinner party given in our honour. Elliot was among the guests. He confirmed that no


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decision had been taken as yet about the recognition of Franco. I told him what Bonnet had said to Pascua, without mentioning the latter’s name. Elliot flared up and exclaimed: ‘That’s going too far! Such things can only harm relations between Britain and France.’
These English are a strange lot: always a decade behind events!
Today I had lunch with Leith-Ross and Waley,
Sigismund David Waley, principal assistant secretary to the Treasury, 1931; third secretary, HM Treasury, 1946–47.
two bigwigs from the exchequer. The lunch was arranged by Leith-Ross, and not without purpose. Leith-Ross began the conversation at a high pitch: the international situation is dangerous, a united front of democracies and the USSR is needed, good trade makes a solid foundation for strengthening relations between countries, and therefore – listen up! – the USSR should settle old claims and the debts of the tsarist government. It will not cost much: the English estimate the claims at 250 million pounds, but they will be satisfied with 6 or 7% of that amount, that is, with 14–15 million pounds. Barings Bank in London still keeps as much as 6 million pounds’ worth of tsarist gold in its vaults. Why not use this gold to settle the claims, with the Soviet government adding another 8 or 9 million? Then all would be fine. The London money market would open its gates to us, and political relations between London and Moscow would become unusually cordial.
Waley kept nodding his assent.
I laughed and answered that Leith-Ross had approached me with similar words in 1935, and that I had already explained to him then that it would be better not to trouble ‘old ghosts’ in their graves. Does Leith-Ross think that the situation in 1939 is more favourable for his plans than it was four years ago? No, better to bury the past and think of the future.
Leith-Ross was manifestly disappointed and asked in sincere bewilderment: ‘Don’t you think that the price of respectability is worth paying?’
A strange lot, the English!
15 February
Shocking reports from France. More than 200,000 Spaniards – old men, women and children – have fled from Catalonia to France, seeking refuge from Franco. Up to 150,000 Republican troops have retreated over the French border. Such events have occurred before in history. In 1870, a 100,000 strong French army, led by General Bourbaki, retreated from the Prussians, crossed the Swiss border, was interned, and returned to France after the peace treaty was signed. The Swiss treated the French well, and this episode helped considerably in


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consolidating good relations between the two neighbouring countries. The Spanish Republicans had every reason to expect similar treatment in France. Azcárate told me once that when the armies of Modesto
Juan Modesto, member of the Spanish Communist Party, he commanded Ebro’s army in 1938.
and Líster
Enrique (Forjan) Líster, member of the Spanish Communist Party and commander of the Republican 5th Army Corps, 1936–38.
reached the French border, the two leaders made emotional speeches to their soldiers, telling them that across the border lay France, a country of peace and liberty, where the Republican troops, exhausted by war, would find rest and friendly understanding. Modesto and Líster implored their men to demonstrate exemplary conduct, so as not to stain the good name of the Spanish Republic. The men answered with concerted and resolute pledges…
And now we hear terrible and scandalous news from France. As soon as the Republican troops crossed the French border, they were not only disarmed, as one would expect, but put into concentration camps. The camps are surrounded by black Senegalese soldiers armed with machine-guns. Within the camps, the Republicans have been given nothing but bare ground: no tents, no mattresses, no blankets, no medicine (there are many wounded among them), no food or even water. The men have to sleep in the open on bare ground, lacking those essentials that are usually guaranteed even to criminals. Heroes, whose names history will etch in gold, are being treated worse than thieves and murderers.
It is difficult to imagine anything more vile or cruel, or for that matter more stupid and short-sighted. After all, had the French government so desired, those 150,000 soldiers could have become one of the best armies in France, which is so short of human resources, and the surest defence along the Pyrenean border against Germany and Italy. Or, if the French government had lacked the courage for such a decisive step (cowards are in the ascendancy in the Paris of today!) and had limited itself to affording the Spanish refugees humane treatment, this would have greatly helped promote friendly attitudes towards France on the Iberian Peninsula – an objective that the French government is striving to attain with its humiliating capitulation to the fascist aggressors.
And what do we have now? The French government’s treatment of the Spanish refugees will remain an eternal, indelible stain on France’s reputation. And this will drastically weaken its international position. Such things cannot be forgotten or forgiven. It is not just a matter of the hundreds of thousands of Spaniards who, seeking friendly help in France but finding barbed wire and Senegalese guards, will turn into bitter enemies of the Third Republic. It is also a matter of the democratic elements in other countries who have observed France’s behaviour at this tragic moment and will draw their own conclusions. And when the critical hour arrives for France (and it is not far off), who can say what will happen? Will France find, among the democratic


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elements, that sympathy, enthusiasm and support which alone can save her from destruction?
I doubt it. But time will tell.
Azcárate affirms that France’s policy towards the Spanish refugees is not an accident, nor a product of bureaucratic disorder, but a quite deliberate stratagem: the French government wants to drive the refugees back to Spain, that is, to hand them over to Franco. That is why Franco’s agents are allowed to spread propaganda openly among the troops held in the camps. That is why every Republican soldier who agrees to return to Franco is immediately granted good conditions and transferred to another camp for the ‘privileged’.
I repeat: what vileness! What utter blindness!
Capitalism is not only decaying, but already beginning to stink.
17 February
Today at long last Cadogan supplied me with an explanation of the strange night raid on the trade mission on 5 February.
Cadogan read me a lengthy ‘report’ submitted by the chief of the London police, where the latter admits that the raid did take place and that its form and extent were just as I had described them to Cadogan during my first visit to his office on 9 February. According to the chief of police, this is what happened. At about 4.30 a.m., 6 February, the duty policeman checked the ‘mark’ that he had made on the back door of the trade mission and found something wrong with it. It was obvious that someone had used the door during the night. In accordance with the existing rules, the policeman immediately reported his discovery to Scotland Yard. From there, also in accordance with routine procedure, two cars with police officers and detectives were sent out. Another two or three policemen joined them at the trade mission. Twelve or thirteen men in all. Such considerable forces were employed because the street where the trade mission is located has a bad reputation. It contains many jewellery shops, and there are frequent robberies, break-ins, etc. At first, the police tried to talk to the people located inside the building of the trade mission (with a fat lady in particular– must be Bugacheva, the office cleaner), but since those individuals did not speak English, the police decided not to enter the building, but to search the house from outside. The police officers and detectives climbed over the fence and up the fire escapes onto the roof. Nothing suspicious was found, and at about 5.30 a.m. the police detail retired.
That is how the chief of police presented the facts.
I expressed my doubts about the complete trustworthiness of this story, since the real issue in question relates to the motives for the raid, but since Cadogan


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apologized for the inconvenience caused to the trade mission I decided not to probe much further into the matter. But I did firmly condemn the actions of the police for infringing the diplomatic immunity of the trade mission. True, the first two floors of the building are not exterritorial, but the four upper floors have diplomatic immunity, while the police used the fire escape to get right up to the roof.
Cadogan then asked: do we find it undesirable for the police to appear in the trade mission under any circumstances? Even in the case of robbery? Or fire? If we did not wish the police to enter the building even in these circumstance, then he would inform the chief of police about it. The latter would hardly object, but would most likely consider himself freed of all responsibility for the protection of the trade mission.
I said I did not agree with Cadogan’s point of view. What I meant was that policemen could not enter the embassy building uninvited or, at the very least, without the ambassador’s consent, yet the police could still not disclaim responsibility for the embassy’s safety. We would like to have the same arrangements for the trade mission. The police cannot enter the building without the consent of the head of the trade mission or of his deputy, but remain responsible for its protection.
Cadogan tried to object, arguing that the ambassador actually lives in the embassy, while there is nobody at the trade mission at night except the watchman. But I couldn’t agree with him. So we failed to reach a compromise, each sticking to his guns.
Generally speaking, this whole incident of the raid remains a mystery to me. Who initiated it? Whom did it serve? The British government, and more specifically the Home Office? I doubt it. The British government is currently trying to expand Anglo-Soviet trade. Scotland Yard? Also doubtful. Of course Scotland Yard would like to know what is happening at the trade mission; but had the raid been engineered by them, one can be sure that the police officers and detectives would have found their way into the building. In the end, it was simply ridiculous: they came, nosed around, and scarpered, frightened off by Bugacheva, the office cleaner. What a blow to the prestige of Scotland Yard! Or maybe the raid was the product of excessive zeal on the part of an eager police officer, who, encountering unexpected resistance, did not risk taking more radical steps for fear of a scandal?
We shall see. Meanwhile, we must think about safeguarding the trade mission against the recurrence of similar incidents. The best thing would be to have the head of the trade mission or his deputy living in the building. If necessary, he could give the police access to the building under his supervision. After all, I recall a couple of instances in the life of the embassy when we had


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to summon the fire brigade after a fire and allow the police inside the embassy building. The same could happen to the trade mission.
18 February
Saw Azcárate. He went to Paris twice this week and met del Vayo and Azaña.
Manuel Azaña y Diaz, war minister and prime minister of Spain, 1931–33; president of the Spanish Republic, 1936–39.
Azcárate flatly refutes rumours appearing in the press that Azaña is about to resign and to address the Spanish people with an appeal to end the war. But Azcárate also admitted that del Vayo failed to persuade Azaña to return to Madrid. Using various pretexts, Azaña avoids doing so. Azcárate remarked with sadness that Azaña’s conduct is inflicting a heavy blow on the Republic, but that the Republic will maintain its resistance all the same.
Azcárate paid a visit to Halifax on 16 February. Their conversation made it clear to him that the British government no longer supported Negrín’s three points. However, Halifax gave him to understand that the British government might be willing to act as an intermediary if the Spanish government agreed to cease hostilities on the condition that repressions would not follow. In the conversation that ensued, the terms were specified as follows: (1) Those who wished to leave the country would be free to do so; (2) Those charged with criminal offences would be tried in ordinary courts; and (3) Franco would leave everyone else in peace.
Azcárate, of course, could not give a definite reply to Halifax there and then. He was in Paris on 17 February and conveyed the content of his conversation with Halifax to del Vayo. The latter was also unable to take an independent decision and asked Madrid. So far, no answer has been received from Negrín. Azcárate was interested in my opinion and said that at this critical moment it was important for the Spanish government to know what the Soviet government thought of the present situation and the conclusions that follow from it.
What could I say in reply?
Azcárate continues to act in as courageous and dignified a manner as before. However, despair must be eating at his soul. The Republic is dying under the assault of fascism and the cowardly panicking of the so-called ‘democracies’. His own son, a communist, clenches his weapon in Madrid as I write. But outwardly, Azcárate is his normal calm and unruffled self. He converses, makes his points, calculates his moves with strict discipline, retains a sense of moderation, and even laughs, albeit without mirth. He commands my growing respect.
20 February


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We had Halifax, Churchill, Dawson of Penn,
Bertrand Dawson (1st Viscount Dawson of Penn), physician to the British royal family.
the Rothensteins (father and son), Balutis and some others for dinner, all accompanied by their wives. It was the first time Winston Churchill had crossed the threshold of the Soviet embassy. He had always avoided doing so and we usually met on neutral ground.
Halifax told me, inter alia, that following our conversation on 27 January he had made a careful study of Anglo-Soviet trade relations and had reached the conclusion that renunciation of the current trade agreement would be undesirable. However, since the British industrialists have been complaining about a number of difficulties in trade relations between the two countries, the best solution, in his view, would be a visit by a British minister to Moscow in order to try to settle contentious issues through amicable talks. Such a visit, furthermore, could have a certain political effect, which would be particularly desirable in the current situation. Hence Hudson’s mission, announced in parliament today.
Maisky had spent a whole month meticulously preparing the visit. He hoped to use the conducive atmosphere to exert pressure on Halifax through Churchill and other amenable


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members of the opposition. John Rothenstein attests that, after dinner, ‘Churchill and Lord Halifax successively withdrew to an adjoining room for the better part of half an hour for private discussion with Maisky … it was impossible to discern what fruits were being yielded by this attempt to bring British leaders into close consultation with the Russians’; Rothenstein, Brave Day, p. 31.
Azcárate and his wife were also present. Mme Azcárate said to me: ‘This will probably be our last official appearance in London. You know, of course, that the British are going to recognize Franco any day now. I am very glad that our last appearance should be at your embassy and at such an important dinner.’
Bidding farewell, Halifax mentioned in passing: ‘What a sad figure is Monsieur Azcárate! Such a nice man… And such grave circumstances!’
23 February
Went to see Vansittart to find out something about the subtext of Hudson’s mission. Here is what Vansittart had to tell me.
Throughout 1938, he, Vansittart, was greatly concerned about the progressive cooling of Anglo-Soviet relations. Its sad consequences were clearly demonstrated by Munich. That is why Vansittart began, from the end of last year, to impress on members of the British government, Halifax in particular, the urgent need to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. He specifically recommended sending a British minister to Moscow with this end in view. Vansittart hoped that his efforts would lead to a situation where the exchange of ministerial visits between London and Moscow would become as commonplace a phenomenon as, for example, the exchange of similar visits between London and Paris. But all this is just the music of the future. In the meantime, Vansittart thought it very profitable to arrange a trip to Moscow for one member of the government, albeit as a one-off. Alas, his idea initially met with a lukewarm response in the highest circles.


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It dawned on Vansittart after our conversation last week that the question of the Anglo-Soviet trade agreement could be a good pretext for putting his long-cherished idea into effect. He suggested to Halifax that Hudson be sent to Moscow (‘specifically Hudson,’ Vansittart emphasized, ‘for I have long known him to be an intelligent, energetic man who shares my views on international issues’). To his considerable surprise, Halifax readily endorsed his idea on this occasion. The British government also approved of Hudson’s visit. Vansittart is very happy. Now we just have to ensure that Hudson’s visit proves successful!
Referring to my recent conversation with Leith-Ross, I expressed my hope that Hudson would not seek to trouble ‘old ghosts’ in Moscow. This would doom Hudson’s visit to failure. Vansittart promised to keep my comment in mind.
25 February
Azcárate came to see me again, almost straight off the train from Paris. He’d gone there to consult with del Vayo and other members of the Spanish government who’d got stuck in France. Del Vayo left for Madrid after his unsuccessful conference with Azaña, only to receive an instruction from Negrín at Perpignan to turn back and await further directives in Paris.
Azcárate’s news is far from comforting: (1) the Republicans are short of weapons and ammunition, and prolonged resistance is unlikely; (2) there is discord in the government coalition: communists are determined to resist, whereas the rightist elements (left-wing Republicans, some socialists and others, not to mention Azaña’s group) favour a ceasefire under virtually any conditions. Negrín occupies a middle position between these two poles.
Azcárate himself appears to advocate an end to the fighting, but thinks it necessary to make the most of the Republicans’ only remaining trump card – the threat of resistance – in order to bargain with Franco for the best possible conditions. That is why he wants the Spanish government to display the utmost belligerence for the time being.
This morning he met Mounsey
George Mounsey, assistant undersecretary of state, Foreign Office, 1929; secretary, Ministry of Economic Warfare, 1939–40.
and informed him that the Spanish government was ready to end the war on the basis he discussed with Halifax on 16 February. Mounsey responded with a ‘spontaneous question’: ‘Surely you don’t expect the British government to make its recognition of Franco conditional on this, do you?’ Mounsey made it perfectly clear to Azcárate that the decision to recognize Franco had already been taken and that Britain would announce it next week, probably together with France or soon afterwards. To


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soften the blow, Mounsey elaborated a lengthy argument (a very fashionable one at present in government circles) to the effect that the British government is hastening to recognize Franco in the interests of the ‘Spanish people’, with the aim of ‘tearing Franco away’ from Rome and Berlin and ‘preventing the massacre of Republicans’ by exerting diplomatic influence through its ambassador in Burgos. English hypocrisy clearly knows no bounds! Unfortunately there are a good many fools (the English left is no exception) who swallow this bait.
27 February
This day will go down in the history of Britain and France as a day of disgrace and folly: London and Paris recognized Franco de jure…
It took Britain and France seven years to recognize the Soviet government. And it took them barely seven days to recognize Franco. These facts reflect the true essence of ‘capitalist democracies’ just as a drop of water reflects the sun.
28 February
Azcárate came to see me at around 6 p.m. Inside he must be deeply perturbed or even shaken, but outwardly he retains his usual restraint and composure.
Yesterday Azcárate received a note from the Foreign Office in which Halifax informed him in refined and courteous language that the British government had taken the decision to recognize Franco, and consequently ‘your name can no longer appear on the list of foreign representatives at this court, as a result of which your diplomatic privileges must come to an end’. However, the note mercifully promised to extend Azcárate’s personal privileges – tax exemption, in particular – for another three months, so that he could wind up his business without undue haste.
Unwilling to hand over the embassy to Alba
Jacobo Fitz-James Stuart (17th duke of Alba), Spanish foreign minister, 1930–31; Spanish ambassador to Great Britain, 1939–45.
in person, Azcárate agreed with the Foreign Office that it would take the building from him and give Alba possession at a later date. This procedure took place today. Before departing, Azcárate summoned all his staff, bade them a warm farewell, and handed over the embassy to Mounsey. Then Azcárate took a car and left for his new apartment, 11, Portland Place. The entire personnel of the embassy, both diplomatic and clerical, left together with Azcárate. Before vacating the embassy, Azcárate had all the archives, documents and accounts packed and taken out, but left the furniture, carpets, paintings, etc. He reckoned that since this all belonged to the


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Spanish state, removing this property would have an adverse political effect for the Republicans. On 2 March the Spanish government is going to ‘evacuate’ its consulate-general in London in the same manner.
Azcárate’s future is unclear – and how else could it be in the current circumstances? On Negrín’s instructions, he is to remain in London to maintain contact not only with English, but also with French circles. He will head a small unofficial ‘mission’. I asked Azcárate what would happen to Pascua (the Spanish ambassador in Paris), but he had nothing definite to say.
Azcárate described to me his last conversation with Halifax, which occurred on the evening of 26 February, on the eve of Franco’s recognition. During their talk, Azcárate gave Halifax a letter in which he had summarized the three points that are currently of greatest concern to the Spanish government:
(1) How does the British government interpret the declaration it has received from Franco concerning the matter of punitive measures? Halifax said the following: the British government interprets the declaration to mean that only persons who committed criminal offences are liable to prosecution and that they ought to be tried according to the law by courts that existed before 16 July 1936. All other citizens should not be submitted to any persecution. (Pious hopes! One cannot but recall Hitler’s promises in Munich about Czechoslovakia and what came of them in the end.)
(2) The cessation of hostilities during the negotiations with Burgos concerning the interpretation of the above declaration. Here, Halifax displayed great zeal and asserted that the British government would make every effort to end the war speedily and conclude a truce.
(3) Since even the best of Franco’s declarations do not guarantee that punitive measures will not be taken, the only realistic way of preventing the worst excesses after the war would be the evacuation from central Spain of all the most ‘compromised’ Republicans. Is the British government ready to ensure the unimpeded passage of these people from Spain under the protection of the British navy? Halifax was very vague and evasive on this point. He even came up with the absurd idea of ‘agreeing’ the lists of the evacuated Republicans with Franco. (Meanwhile, the issue of evacuation becomes increasingly acute. Negrín sent a telegram to Azcárate, after the latter’s conversation with Halifax, to the effect that the evacuation could involve as many as 10–20,000 people.)
I fear that little will come either of the projected truce or of the plans for an organized ‘evacuation’. Neither the English nor the French are willing to take serious action. Besides, they have already capitulated. After capitulation, one does not discuss conditions.
[Maisky had been absorbed in the activities of the Non-Intervention Committee throughout 1937–39. He appears to have been at odds with Litvinov since its existence,


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advocating sustained military support for the Republicans, so long as there was no agreement on non-intervention. His fear was that Franco’s victory might expose Soviet weakness and bolster appeasement. In early 1938, he even went behind Litvinov’s back to approach Voroshilov, and for a while gained Stalin’s personal support. But later he was forced to repent for ‘this interference in a sphere which is not entirely within my competence’. The activities of the Non-Intervention Committee came to a standstill following Chamberlain’s visit to Rome in November 1938. The Committee was dissolved on 20 April 1939, following British recognition of Franco’s government.
Maisky, Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 91–3.
]
2 March
Yesterday, as today’s English papers pompously put it, we had a ‘historic reception’ at the embassy. In fact, there was nothing special about the reception as such, just the usual evening for ‘friends’ and ‘acquaintances’ which we hold every year…
But as for the guest-list… Yes, that was exceptional!
I’ll start at the beginning. When, at the end of January, I was sending out invitations for the 1 March reception, I sent cards to all the Cabinet members,


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as custom dictates. I expected all the ministers to decline politely, or for just two or three of them to accept and then not actually turn up. That’s how it has always been.
Imagine my amazement when, on 1 February, I received a long letter from the prime minister’s office informing me that Chamberlain would attend the reception, and that his wife, who unfortunately was due to attend a charity ball that evening where she was to meet the duchess of Gloucester,
Princess Alice Cristabel, duchess of Gloucester; married Prince Henry, 1st duke of Gloucester, in 1935.
would nevertheless do her best to put in an appearance and would let Mme Maisky know her final answer at a later date. After reading this missive, I said to myself: ‘Aha, there is something behind this! Not a single British prime minister (even a Labourite) has ever crossed the threshold of the Soviet embassy during the entire period of Soviet rule, and now look: not only the ‘man with the umbrella’ himself, but also his spouse, is desperate to attend our reception!’ I had guessed correctly. I know from experience that in our ‘good’ times (1935 and 1936, for instance), 60 to 70 out of 100 invitations tend to be accepted, and in the ‘bad’ times (such as the beginning of 1938, when I arranged a musical soiree in honour of Prokofiev) – 30 to 40. This time there were very few refusals, no more than 20–25%. What was most important was who accepted the invitation. All the pillars of society: major MPs and businessmen, bankers, lords, diehard Tories, high-born aristocrats, members of government… Well, well, well! Thirteen members of Cabinet, i.e. more than half, promised to come, and most of them did. It’s quite unheard of in the six-and-a-bit years of my employment in London. That’s what a shift in the international scene means! That’s what the growth of Soviet might means!
I nonetheless had my doubts until the very last minute whether or not Chamberlain himself would make an appearance. I rather expected something ‘unforeseen’ to hold him back at the eleventh hour. Moreover, it was reported in the papers the day before the reception that Mrs Chamberlain had gone down with the flu and had taken to her bed. But I was wrong. On 28 February they phoned me from the prime minister’s office to say that Mrs Chamberlain would not be able to attend the reception because of her illness and to inquire, on the PM’s behalf, whether he might instead bring along his niece, Miss Cole.
Valerie Cole.
At 10 p.m. on 1 March the tall spare frame of Chamberlain appeared in the embassy doorway, accompanied – a fresh surprise! – not by Miss Cole, but by his daughter.
It’s hard to describe the stir created among the guests by the prime minister’s appearance. Nobody knew about it in advance, and nobody (of the more than


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500 invitees) had expected such a ‘daring step’ from him. There was a general commotion and agitation. People stopped in the middle of their sentences and rushed childishly to have a look at Chamberlain in the interior of the Soviet embassy. I first led him to the white ballroom and then to my office, where I offered him and his daughter refreshments. Chamberlain declined vodka, but had nothing against mulled wine. The office soon filled with people. I tried to keep the crowd back, but I didn’t always succeed. Standing by the sideboard, the PM and I discussed various topics.
Chamberlain first broached the matter of Hudson’s forthcoming trip. Its aim is to settle various trade disagreements and prepare the ground for expanding Anglo-Soviet trade. Unlike Halifax and Vansittart, Chamberlain said not a word about the political aspect of the visit.
This crucial observation was deliberately left out of Maisky’s brisk report to Litvinov. Though boosting the significance of a first visit by a British prime minister to the Soviet embassy, Maisky conceded that it was motivated by ‘a desire to somehow placate the Opposition’. Significantly, though, he kept the door open, wondering whether ‘even in Chamberlain’s own heart there is not a creeping fear lest the insatiability of the aggressors should force England and France to take up arms, and in anticipation of that eventuality it would not be amiss to extend a feeler towards the USSR’; God Krizisa, I, nos. 128 and 168, 4 March 1939. Moreover, London was awash with rumours about imminent political negotiations between Germany and the Soviet Union. Litvinov assumed that the gesture of Chamberlain was actually aimed at the Germans, to encourage them to make compromises in their negotiations with the British and forestall any agreement between Britain and the Soviet Union; D.C. Watt, How War Came: The immediate origins of the Second World War 1938–1939 (London, 1989), p. 209; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 157.
I remarked that the British industrialists’ complaints about disagreements in Anglo-Soviet trade were unfounded, or at best highly exaggerated. The main difficulty was not increasing our orders for British companies, but finding the companies to take them. For instance, we were unable to place orders amounting to 2.5 million pounds in 1938 and the fulfilment of earlier orders to the amount of 2 million pounds was delayed. English industry is currently overloaded with orders in connection with the British rearmament programme.
Chamberlain grinned and said: ‘Yes, you need exactly the same things as we do. But it will not be so forever. The peoples of Europe will not always be thinking only of war and armaments. Besides, the goods we offer are not confined to those you mention. We could also supply you with consumer goods. Why don’t you buy them?’
I explained to him that Soviet imports were regulated by a general national economic plan, and that for the moment we could not afford spending our resources on the import of consumer goods.
Chamberlain kept silent for a while and then asked in a very particular way: ‘What are you doing with your gold?’
I smiled and said: ‘The same everyone else does – we put it aside for a rainy day.’
Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders and observed with obvious irritation: ‘At the moment, all anyone can think about is war!’ Having calmed down a little, the PM began interrogating me about our relations with Germany and Japan. Was it true that a German trade delegation had come to Moscow? I told him that at the end of January the Germans had indeed intended to send a trade mission to Moscow, but then changed their minds for whatever reason. It was an entirely German initiative, and we were equally unmoved by news both of the visit and its postponement.


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Do we fear Japanese aggression? We know from experience, I answered, that Japan is a very restless neighbour, but we are sure that the Japanese will think twice before venturing anything against us: they are well aware of our strength in the Far East.
Chamberlain nodded his assent and added that Japan had got so bogged down in China that it could hardly embark on adventures in other directions. Japan’s situation in China reminds Chamberlain more and more of Napoleon’s situation in Russia.
I asked the PM what he thought of Europe’s immediate prospects.
Chamberlain replied that he remained an ‘optimist’, despite everything. The general situation is improving. The German and Italian people do not want war. Both Hitler and Mussolini gave Chamberlain their personal assurances that their task was the peaceful development of the resources at their disposal. Chamberlain was left with the definite impression that Hitler and Mussolini are afraid of war.
I smiled and said that I quite agreed with him on one point: Hitler and Mussolini are indeed afraid of any serious war. The danger of the situation, however, lies in the fact that they are firmly convinced that they can gain bloodless


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victories
, victories based on bluffing and on holding their nerve better than other world leaders.
Chamberlain suddenly darkened and seemed to stretch another inch in height. He uttered testily: ‘The time of such victories has passed!’
Our conversation moved away from this subject and somehow alighted on Chamberlain’s father. The PM instantly brightened up and seemed to become more cordial.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘my father never thought that I would go into politics. When he died (in 1912 [correct date is 1914]), I myself had no idea that I might become a parliamentarian and minister.’
‘And how did it happen?’ I inquired.
‘It happened this way. In 1911, I was elected to the city council of Birmingham. In 1915 and 1916 I was lord mayor of Birmingham. Lloyd George, then prime minister, invited me to take the post of director-general of national service. I agreed and resigned as lord mayor. I soon discovered, however, that Lloyd George was not giving me the support to which I was entitled, so half a year later I resigned.’ (Lloyd George, in his turn, once told me that Chamberlain had turned out to be a quite useless director-general.) ‘I could not return to my post as lord mayor of Birmingham, as it had been filled. So I had a long think and decided to try my luck at politics. I entered parliament and began to occupy myself with affairs of state. I can say with some justification that I became a politician thanks to Lloyd George.’
Then, with a somewhat spiteful expression and with obvious sarcasm in his voice, Chamberlain added: ‘Lloyd George may regret it, but now it’s too late!’
There’s no love lost between Chamberlain and Lloyd George. None at all!
I asked the PM about his attitude to his father’s political legacy. Chamberlain replied: ‘In history, one rarely encounters sons who have implemented the political programme of their fathers. But this is exactly what happened in our family. I am happy that it fell to me to carry out the two projects which concerned my father most of all: pensions for the aged and the unification of the Empire through the customs system.’
Having said that, Chamberlain seemed to raise himself up on tiptoes and gaze down on us all with a feeling of benevolent contempt: a giant among pygmies!
I gained the impression from our talk that the PM considers himself a ‘man of destiny’! He was born into this world to perform a ‘sacred mission’.
A dangerous state of mind.
7 March


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Azcárate has just returned from Paris. It’s clear that he is highly disturbed and depressed by events, but he carries himself bravely and with dignity.
‘Casado’s
Segismundo Casado (López), commander of the Madrid Zone who engineered the coup against Negrín’s government and created a loyalist government which sealed the fate of the Spanish Republic.
coup d’état is the end of the Republic.’ The Junta he has formed is strongly anti-communist. That is why its triumph means capitulation to Franco. Casado himself is an old officer who has always fought against the penetration of ‘communist influences’ into the army. Besteiro
Julián Besteiro (Fernandez), dean of the Faculty of Humanities of Madrid University, he was the chairman of the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, 1925–31, and president of the Republican Cortes, 1931–33. Little involved in the Civil War, he put out various abortive peace feelers to Franco. In March 1939 he joined Casado in forming an anti-Negrín National Defence Junta. He was arrested by Franco forces and sentenced to 30 years’ imprisonment.
(minister of foreign affairs without credentials) is the most right-wing of the rightist socialists and an old enemy of communism. Carrillo
Santiago Carrillo (Solares), Spanish Republican minister of the interior, 1937–39.
(minister of the interior) is Caballero’s supporter and another enemy of communism. Marín
Manuel González Marín, general secretary of the National Confederation of Labour, Casado’s finance minister, following the coup against Negrín.
(minister of finance) is an anarchist who hates communists. The other Junta members, including Miaja,
José Miaja (Menant), Spanish Republic’s minister of war, 1936–39.
are political nonentities.
Azcárate holds Azaña chiefly responsible for the latest events. The left-wing Republicans led by Azaña showed their true colours during the Spanish war: they have completely bankrupted themselves.
‘Of course,’ said Azcárate, ‘objective developments meant that the Spanish Republic would have perished anyway, but had Azaña behaved differently its fall could have been marked by pride and dignity and might have served as a source of inspiration for future fighters for the freedom of democratic Spain. But now the Spanish Republic is dying in a state of inglorious chaos and collapse.’
Fine words. They are particularly telling when one considers that Azcárate is himself a former left-wing Republican. What is he now? I don’t know. I think he himself has no clear idea as yet. One thing is certain: over the past year his sympathies have shifted more and more towards communism.
8 March
The telegram is reproduced in a far more condensed manner in DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 126.
(1) My wife and I had lunch with the Hudsons. We were alone and were therefore able to have a detailed and uninhibited discussion about Hudson’s forthcoming visit to Moscow. At first we talked about trifles, such as what Muscovites wear, what the weather is like, what sights should be seen in the city and its environs, etc. (I learned that Hudson’s wife is very keen on the arts – especially painting,


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of the modernist tendency above all – and that she also wishes to visit our schools, rest homes, maternity and infant institutions, and so on.) Our talk gradually moved on to more serious matters.
(2) Hudson directly posed the following question: does ‘Moscow’ seriously want to talk about a meaningful improvement of relations with Britain? He has heard more than once in London that this is very doubtful. He was told that after Munich, Moscow had decided to retreat into its borders, to break with the West and pursue a policy of isolation, and that for this reason it was useless to seek a common language with Moscow. The main objective of Hudson’s visit – and this is much more important than the trade talks themselves – is to gauge Moscow’s frame of mind in this respect through contact with the leading figures of the Soviet Union. Very much will depend on this because, as Hudson sees it, the next six to twelve months will be crucial in determining British foreign policy for many years, if not for a whole generation. Indeed, he said, a most serious change has occurred in the mood of the country (viz. England, viz. the Conservative Party) in the past two or three months, as I too must have had occasion to observe. We have firmly resolved on preserving our Empire and our position as a great world power. What is needed for this? First, armaments, and here things have taken a turn for the better. As an individual nation, we shall soon be strong as never before in our history. Secondly, to achieve this goal we need to maintain friendly contacts with all the powers that are on the same path at this moment in time. We believe the USSR to be one of these powers. The prejudice against communism that hampered cooperation between our countries has been almost entirely overcome. However, doubts exist in London as to whether or not we desire such cooperation. Hudson’s key task is to clarify this point and report to the Cabinet. If we do desire it, Anglo-Soviet political and economic relations could become very close, because the main danger for the British Empire and the Soviet Union comes from the same country, Germany. If we do not desire it, Britain, in order to defend its interests, will have to engage in other international manoeuvres which might not meet with our approval but which Britain will find unavoidable. Hudson is of the view that Britain and the Soviet Union are two countries which complement one another and which, together with France, could establish a genuine guarantee of peace.
As concerns this part of Hudson’s pronouncement (the significance of his talks in Moscow), Maisky reported to NKID on 8 March 1939 that Hudson’s visit ‘could play a great role in defining the British foreign policy orientation for the next years. Hudson himself would like it to be along the London–Paris–Moscow line… There are subjective elements in Hudson’s pronouncement of course, for he, unlike the premier, disfavours Germany, but he definitely could not have taken up the general line he developed in today’s conversation without Chamberlain’s sanction’; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 126. One should take Hudson’s anti-German sentiments cum grano salis, for later on, in the summer of 1939, he was active in pursuing secret negotiations with Helmut Wohlthat, Göring’s envoy.
Hudson leaves for Moscow with his hands untied. The Cabinet has given him no binding instructions. He is prepared to discuss all subjects, whether political or economic. His report to Cabinet (at this point, one could sense a note of ‘dizziness with success’ in Hudson’s words, and of gentle blackmail) will be of decisive significance. His November speeches (Hudson had in mind his attack on Inskip and Hore-Belisha for their poor performance in the rearmament sphere, resulting in Inskip’s removal from the Ministry for Coordination of Defence to the Dominions Office, major difficulties for Hore-


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Belisha, and strict instructions to Anderson
John Anderson (1st Viscount Waverley), lord privy seal, 1938–39; home secretary and minister of home security, 1939–40; lord president of the council, 1940–43; chancellor of the exchequer, 1943–45.
to deal with air-raid precautions) were a great success. The country stands by him. He can push whatever he wishes to push through parliament. That is why he attaches great importance to his visit to Moscow and would be very glad if I could tell him, albeit provisionally, what reception he can expect in the USSR.
(3) I told him that he could of course expect a very friendly reception in Moscow and that representatives of the Soviet government would indeed be willing to talk with him about the matters that concerned him. In particular, I told Hudson that if he arrived in Moscow on the morning of 23 March (as he planned to do), he would be able to see Comrade Litvinov and perhaps also Comrade Mikoyan on the same day. Hudson was very pleased. Discussing more general matters touched on by Hudson, I stressed that the USSR has always been an advocate of collective security and the cooperation of all peace-loving powers, and that it was not we who had undermined these principles. Munich, needless to say, could not but cause an adverse reaction in ‘Moscow’, giving rise to isolationist trends in some sections of Soviet public opinion, but the Soviet government had taken no decisions of this nature and prefers to wait and see, to watch and study the processes currently taking place in the West. If England, as Hudson asserts, wishes to improve Anglo-Soviet relations, so much the better. Hudson can rest assured that the Soviet government is always ready to support any step leading to such an improvement. I deem it my duty, however, to forewarn Hudson that in view of recent experience, ‘Moscow’ has become distrustful, and that today, as never before, it will judge the seriousness of intentions not by words but by deeds.
(4) Hudson responded to my considerations with fresh statements to the effect that the British government was absolutely sincere in its desire for closer cooperation with the Soviet Union and that further developments would to a large extent depend on our conduct. Further, as if to prove the seriousness of the British government’s intentions, he touched on his wishes in the sphere of Anglo-Soviet trade. What do they amount to? The ‘maximum programme’ amounts to a major increase in the volume of trade. Why can’t we double trade turnover in the next five or perhaps ten years? The economic resources and structure of both countries are such that this seems quite possible. The ‘minimum programme’ amounts to the settling of the problems that have arisen in connection with the current trade agreement – more specifically, stepping up Soviet purchases of goods produced in England. One does not contradict the other. When I asked Hudson how he was going to settle the trade issues that concerned him, he answered that, once again, this would depend to a great


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extent on us. The Cabinet has given him a free hand here as well. He is under no binding instructions. Hudson will pose the problem of trade expansion and a certain restructuring. He is ready to hear out and discuss with utmost goodwill any proposal of ours or any project that might emerge in the course of joint discussions… At the end, Hudson began to insist anew on the urgency of settling the issue of the structure of Soviet imports from Britain and warned me (with a hint of blackmail once again) that he was a ‘tough negotiator’, that Britain’s economic position in respect to the USSR was much stronger now than in 1933 and 1934, and that he hoped to persuade us in Moscow to buy not only capital goods, but consumer goods as well. I remarked half-jokingly that we also knew how to bargain and that I looked forward with great interest to the outcome of his talks in Moscow.
(5) Of the other subjects covered during lunch, mention should be made of Hudson’s great optimism about the forthcoming Anglo-German business talks. He assured me that the Germans had already realized the weakness of their position, that government subsidies to German exporters would be discontinued, that the Anglo-German cartels would establish an acceptable distribution of markets, and that, in general, peace between British and German industrialists would be concluded on British terms. Hudson, incidentally, was explicit about Britain’s continued economic presence in South-East Europe, saying that Britain’s economic position in the Balkans and other places would be maintained and strengthened. Somewhat contradicting the first part of our conversation, Hudson contended that in a year’s time the military might of Britain and France would reach dimensions enabling the two countries to defend their interests in any part of the world, including the Far East. I tactfully voiced my doubts about that.
(6) In the course of our conversation, Hudson revealed the following information about himself. He is 53; from 1912 to 1914 he was an attaché and secretary at the British embassy in St Petersburg (where he became acquainted with the Russian language); and in 1913, together with the British ambassador, he attended the festivities in Moscow on the occasion of the 300th anniversary of the Romanovs. He spent the war at the front and afterwards returned to the diplomatic service, occupying various posts in Washington, Athens and Paris. His last diplomatic post was as first secretary in Paris. He left the foreign service in 1923 and went into politics. He held the posts of deputy minister of health and of labour, and was also minister of pensions. I should add that Hudson is very rich: his father made a fortune out of soap and left it to his son. At present, Hudson is engaged solely in politics. He is distinguished by his very energetic and independent character, enjoys great influence in the Conservative Party, and is regarded as one of its ‘strong’ men, with a brilliant career ahead of him. He is somewhat too sure of himself. He has never displayed any marked anti-Soviet


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tendencies. On the contrary, he stressed with pride that he was the only Tory candidate in 1924 who did not make use of ‘the Zinoviev letter’ in his election campaign.
[Maisky was far more outspoken in his telegram home, desperately attempting to extricate Moscow from its isolation. He tried to impress on Litvinov that Hudson’s task was to establish ‘whether or not we seek rapprochement and cooperation with London’, and cited the fact that he had been given a free hand to pursue ‘not only economic but also political’ issues, which could not have happened ‘without Chamberlain’s sanction’. This was hardly the case. Chamberlain had just referred to Germany in an off-the-record press briefing for the editors of the major newspapers, during which he suggested that ‘as a result of the new situation resulting from the Munich Agreement there was good hope of reaching political, economic and military agreements that would bring permanent peace to Europe’.
Williams, Nothing So Strange.
Moreover, the British records reveal that Maisky’s unauthorized initiatives in fact encountered a defiant and confident Hudson: ‘As he was leaving, Monsieur Maisky said that he was quite convinced that we, the British Empire, were unable to stand up against German aggression, even with the assistance of France, unless we had the collaboration and help of Russia … He insisted on his point of view and I ventured to beg him, if Moscow shared that view, to disabuse their minds.’ Hudson was right in doubting whether Maisky ‘had any authority from his Government’ to encourage the political dialogue. Vansittart was furious, complaining to Halifax that the briefing was ‘too heavy-handed to be useful’, missing a chance ‘to bring the Russians out of their isolationist tendencies’. Maisky continued to woo Litvinov, following meetings with Butler and Beaverbrook, who, he claimed, had confirmed the significance of Hudson’s mission and the growing disillusionment with appeasement.
DVP, 1939, XXII/1, docs. 126 & 128, 8 & 9 March; TNA FO 371 23677 N1389/57/38, 8 March 1939. Carley, 1939, pp. 95–7, 102–3, is one of the few historians to have traced the discrepancies, but he attributes them to a false reporting by Maisky’s interlocutors ‘because of Chamberlain’s opposition’. He overlooks the fact that the terror at home was increasingly forcing Maisky to deliberately put his own ideas into the mouths of those he spoke to, as the only effective and safe way of introducing a shift in Soviet policy.
]
9 March
Beaverbrook told me that Chamberlain had a talk with Churchill the other day and was forced to admit that the policy of ‘appeasement’ had failed. Chamberlain will, of course, make every effort to defer conflict and alleviate the tension through various manoeuvres, but the PM can see now that lasting peace and genuine friendship between Britain and Germany are impossible. This, in Beaverbrook’s opinion, explains the prime minister’s marked turn towards the USSR, which he demonstrated by attending our reception. In this connection, Beaverbrook inundated me with a stream of rather heavy compliments:
‘Stay here for another two or three years and you’ll be able to reap the rich harvest in the sphere of Anglo-Soviet relations which your work will have prepared over preceding years.’
Beaverbrook also told me that Germanophobia was spreading rapidly among the general public, and that, in the contrary direction, sympathy towards the USSR was clearly on the rise. By way of an example, he cited Rothermere,


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whose Germanophilia cost the Daily Mail more than a third of its readership (1,200,000 instead of the former 1,800,000 or more). Rothermere left the paper and, with his morale shattered and finances battered, set out on a six-month voyage round the world.
Sympathy towards the USSR really is on the increase. Sinclair told me that mention of the USSR and of the urgent need for a joint struggle for peace had been met with stormy applause at every meeting he had spoken at up and down the country.
Butler, who invited Agniya and myself to lunch today, also spoke at length about friendship between our countries and the need to strengthen Anglo-Soviet relations. Butler described the situation as follows: ‘The field of relations with the USSR has been neglected until now, but the PM has arrived at the conclusion that we should cultivate this field and see what fruit it will bear.’
[Attached to the entry is a private letter written to Litvinov on 10 March.]
London, 10 March 1939 To People’s Commissar Comrade Litvinov Dear Maksim Maksimovich, I would like to add a few more thoughts further to the record of my talk with Hudson on 8 March which I am sending with this post. As you already know from my telegrams, Hudson gave greatest prominence to political matters in our talk, and only secondary importance to matters of trade. I think the reverse will be true in Moscow. Of course, he probably will talk about international political affairs with you, but I find it hard to see what might come of this in concrete terms unless you, on your part, put forward some practical suggestions. Nonetheless, it seems to me that it would be helpful if you had a serious talk with Hudson and, above all, let him know – since he is obviously unsure about this matter – that we do not exclude cooperation with Britain (provided appropriate conditions are observed). This would enable him and like-minded people in the Cabinet and in parliament to counteract the propaganda spread in government circles by elements hostile to us. It would also be very important (although I cannot conceive exactly how this should be done) to make Hudson feel our military might. On matters of trade, the talks will obviously be more definite and practical. I do have faith in Hudson’s sincere desire to expand Anglo-Soviet trade, but we shall probably have to argue a great deal with him about the ways, methods and conditions by which this goal can be accomplished.


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He certainly has a tendency to centralize trade with us on the British side, and on this occasion it will probably be more difficult for us to counter this tendency, since we have adopted a clearing system in our latest agreements with Poland and Italy.
Still more manifest is Hudson’s sincere wish to modify the structure of Soviet imports from England through an increase in the share of British-made goods, and this point will probably be the main battleground. Hudson will be very persistent in this respect both because of the very strong pressure exerted by business circles on the government and out of purely careerist considerations. Hudson must return from Moscow with some sort of ‘achievement’ in this area, otherwise his mission will be regarded as a failure. It must be kept in mind that, as I have written to you before, Hudson’s visit represents an alternative to the renunciation of the trade agreement, an alternative put forward to the government by the minister of foreign affairs. In general, according to my survey of the situation here, it would be inadvisable to turn down flatly Hudson’s solicitations for a change in the structure of Soviet imports from Britain. This could awaken strong feelings in British business and government circles that are undesirable and would merely lead to the deterioration of relations. It would be more productive to find some sort of compromise which would at least go some way to meeting the British wishes. I suppose that such a compromise could be paid for by British credits (providing, of course, that we want credits). Our current position regarding the purchase of consumer goods abroad, which Hudson will surely raise, is not entirely clear to me. If the newspaper reports concerning our agreement to buy textiles in Poland are true (unfortunately, I have had no information on this matter from the NKID), this would seem to indicate a certain modification of our former practice. Judging by what I hear and see here, I do not exclude the possibility of various credit combinations if we were to agree to buy, say, textiles or footwear in Britain. But this will all become clearer during the talks in Moscow. No matter how the issue of consumer goods is to be settled, I would deem it highly significant if Hudson could bring good news from Moscow for the Scottish herring dealers. As you certainly know, by virtue of a number of circumstances herring is a political commodity in Britain. A hundred thousand pounds spent on herring has a greater political effect than a million pounds spent on capital goods. Herring is an issue on which all parties concur. I am constantly being reminded about this by such various people as Colville, the minister for Scotland, the Tory MP Boothby, the Liberal leader Sinclair, and the


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Labourite MacLean.
Neil MacLean, member of the Executive Committee of the Parliamentary Labour Party, 1931–36.
If it were possible to come to an agreement on spending a fixed sum of money (say, 200,000–250,000 pounds annually) on herring for several years, this would have a most favourable political effect for us.
I end with a very important question: to what extent does Hudson represent the British government? My impression is that in matters of the economy, he does represent the government and Chamberlain 100%, whereas in matters of politics he is hardly a typical representative of the British government, and especially of the views of the prime minister. Rather, Hudson represents those Cabinet members who have little or no faith in the policy of appeasement and the idea of a London–Paris–Moscow axis. Please keep me informed during Hudson’s stay in Moscow.
12 March
Yesterday, Agniya and I visited the Azcárates. They have already left the embassy. They have a service flat in a large house near Portland Place. They are lucky: none of their children are currently in Spain. Even the son, who was in Madrid, came to France together with del Vayo. The other son is in Switzerland, while both daughters are in London. The son from Madrid, who has come to visit his father for a few days, furnished me with the following details about the last days, or rather the last hours, of the Negrín government.
The army of Central Spain, in contrast to the Catalan army, was always led by officers of the old Spanish army who sided with the Republicans. Such are Miaja, Casado and Menéndez
Leopoldo Menéndez López, former officer of the Spanish army who joined the Republicans and rose to the rank of general after excelling in the Battle of Teruel.
(head of the Army of the Levante). Barely any of the top positions were taken by commanders from the masses, like Modesto or Líster. The commissars attached to the old officers were often not up to the mark. For instance, the communists Antón
Francisco Antón, Spanish communist and NKVD agent, and lover of ‘La Pasionaria’.
and Hernández
Jesus Hernández, communist minister of education in the Republican government, 1936–38; head of the war commissars in the Central Zone, 1938–39.
were Miaja’s commissars at various times – things went well under them and Miaja stood firm – but there was a rather long period when Miaja’s commissar was a socialist from Caballero’s faction (I’ve forgotten his name) and that resulted in a quite different picture. Miaja himself is nothing to write home about. Fate played an unusual trick on him. When Caballero’s government abandoned Madrid on 6 November 1936, believing it was no longer possible to save it from Franco’s onslaught, someone had to be left behind to hand the city over to the enemy.


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Miaja was chosen to perform this rather unheroic role. But a miracle happened: Madrid withstood, and Miaja – to his own surprise and that of the government – became a national hero overnight. The government had to take this fact into account and exploit it in the interests of their struggle: his reputation was supported quite deliberately thereafter. This, however, did not make Miaja any more brilliant. Neither did he become a communist, although at one time he did align himself with the Communist Party and it was even rumoured that he had formally joined its ranks. These circumstances explain much of what has happened in the past two to three weeks.
When Negrín and del Vayo flew into Central Spain from France, the army’s top brass had already begun to disintegrate. Instead of immediately making their base in Madrid and gathering loyal units (of which there were quite a few) around the government, Negrín began tearing about the country in a frenzy, travelling to one town after another. This had the benefit of raising Republican morale everywhere, but it also had a crucial flaw: the government failed to establish a strong base for itself anywhere. Negrín obviously overestimated his authority and underestimated the imminent danger. An open pro-Franco mutiny broke out in Cartagena, where unrest had long been brewing in the navy. The mutiny was quelled with great difficulty, after which almost the entire navy left for Bizerta.
The critical moment came on 5 March. Negrín, del Vayo and several other members of government were temporarily based in Elda, a small village near Alicante. Why and how Elda had become the ‘capital’ is unknown to Azcárate’s son. On the morning of 5 March, Negrín began summoning the ministers who had remained in Madrid, as well as the top brass – Miaja, who was in Valencia, Casado, who was in Madrid, and chief of staff Matallana,
General Manuel Matallana (Gómez), republican commander in the Civil War who sided with Casado in March 1939 in an attempt to reach a separate peace with Franco.
who was with the Army of the Levante – to Elda for a conference. At first, the ministers in Madrid insisted that Negrín and his companions should come to Madrid and hold the conference there. Negrín, however, had already received reports about the perilous situation in the capital and refused to go there, suspecting an ambush. Eventually, all the ministers left in Madrid went to Elda.
The military presented a greater problem. Miaja found various pretexts to put off his journey to Elda till the next day. Casado bluntly stated that the situation in Madrid did not allow him to attend the conference. Matallana alone came to Elda, but he was very agitated and itching to go back to the Army of the Levante. The negotiations with the army leaders lasted throughout 5 March, and at midnight Casado notified Negrín by phone from Madrid that the Negrín government no longer existed and that he, Casado, had taken power into his own hands. Negrín was shaken and at first would not believe it. ‘I’m relieving


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you of your duties!’ he shouted down the phone. ‘Just you try!’ Casado laughed in return. The minister of the interior wrested the receiver from Negrín’s hand and tried to persuade Casado not to take the fatal step, but to no avail.
The commander of the Army of the Levante, Menéndez, phoned at about two in the morning. He demanded that Matallana should immediately return, threatening that otherwise he would come right away to Elda with troops to ‘liberate’ him. The government interpreted this to mean that it was being threatened with arrest. It was only then that Negrín began to reckon up the forces he could rely on and discovered to his horror that he had a mere 150 guards at his disposal. Matallana was promptly released and allowed to return to his headquarters. Fearing that as soon as Matallana arrived, Menéndez would come to Elda to arrest them, the ministers left the place at once and headed for the nearest airport, where the air force commander (a communist) had promised to have planes ready for them. However, for reasons unknown, not a single plane was to be found at the airport. So Negrín left all the ministers to wait for him there and, accompanied by del Vayo and Azcárate’s son, headed for the nearest airport 30 kilometres away, where he hoped to find aircraft.
The road to the other airport passed a village where a meeting was being held of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Spain, including Pasionaria,
Isidora Dolores Ibárruri Gómez, known as ‘La Pasionaria’ (the Passionflower) – was a Republican heroine in the Spanish Civil War.
Modesto, Líster and others. Azcárate’s son asked Negrín to leave him there. But Negrín decided to meet the communists himself. He spoke at the Central Committee meeting, after which there was a long discussion of what was to be done. It was eventually decided that Negrín should make a last attempt to come to terms with Casado. Negrín immediately sent an appeal to Madrid for the popular front not to be split and to unite anew in the struggle against Franco. He then waited for a response from Casado, but none came. News came from the first airport that two planes had landed there. The ministers urged Negrín to go, fearing he might miss the opportunity to fly to France, but Negrín continued to wait for a reply from Madrid. This situation continued until 2 p.m. on 6 March. Still no reply. In the meantime it transpired that the telephone lines connecting the village with the outside world had been cut. To sit still, doing nothing, had become useless and dangerous. So Negrín and del Vayo left for the airport, where they joined other ministers and flew to France. Azcárate’s son wanted to stay with the Central Committee, but the CC advised him not to tarry but to go abroad with del Vayo. Which he did.
In the evening of the same day the communist leaders, including Pasionaria, Modesto, Líster and other members of the CC, flew off to France, some of them directly and some via Algeria.


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Such are the facts narrated to me by Azcárate’s son. I record them, but I admit that much remains unclear to me. In particular, I fail to understand how, at a critical moment, both Negrín and the Central Committee of the Communist Party found themselves as ‘refugees’, without any armed forces at their disposal, even though, as the events of the last days in Madrid showed, there were many people in the army of the Centre who were ready to die for the cause of the Republic.
Future developments will, I’m sure, solve this riddle.
[In his speech to the 18th Party Congress, on 10 March, Stalin had defended Russia’s isolation and urged the party ‘to be cautious and not allow Soviet Russia to be drawn into conflicts by warmongers who are accustomed to have others pull the chestnuts out of the fire’. Here Stalin had appropriated the metaphor employed by Maisky a couple of months earlier,
See diary entry for 11 October 1938.
warning that Russia would not ‘pull the chestnuts from the fire’ for France and Britain. Maisky’s metaphor had become so fashionable that, as the historian Lukacs shows, it was appropriated by Hitler three weeks later, warning that ‘Anyone who declares himself to be ready to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for the Great Powers must be aware that he might burn his fingers in the process.’
J. Lukacs, June 1941: Hitler and Stalin (New Haven, 2006), pp. 51–2.
]
14 March
Saw Vansittart.
In 1939, as Cadogan explained to Eden years later, Vansittart ‘was brought into consultation a good deal on the question of our approach to the Soviet Government, and he was used (I’m not sure why) as a sort of channel to Maisky’; Cadogan papers, ACAD 4/5, 11 Dec. 1961.
He began straight away with Hudson’s visit and argued at length that it must be used to utmost effect. Will this be done? Do we want this? In particular, are we ready to talk with Hudson about matters of politics as well as of trade? Stalin’s and Manuilsky’s
Dmitrii Zakharovich Manuilsky, general secretary of the Executive Committee of the Comintern, 1931–43.
speeches at the Congress raised doubts in British political circles about the Soviet Union’s willingness to cooperate with Western powers. Stalin’s speech about the desire of the British ruling class to push Hitler towards the east has been particularly puzzling.
I laughed out loud at this point and interrupted Vansittart: ‘Do I need to prove it to you that extremely influential individuals and groups exist in England who are whispering in Hitler’s ear that he should mount a campaign against the Ukraine?’
Vansittart immediately weakened and kept silent.
I then put his mind at rest about Hudson. He would certainly be met warmly in Moscow, and Litvinov would of course be glad to talk to him about political matters. But I felt I had to warn Vansittart that Hudson should not expect any political initiatives from us. We would make no proposals. We’ve had enough experience of that. But if Hudson wished to lead an initiative, we would listen


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to him willingly and examine his suggestions attentively. This seemed to reassure him.


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In his report to Moscow, Maisky stressed the significance attached by Vansittart to Hudson’s negotiations in Moscow against the background of the German annexation of the rest of Czechoslovakia on 15 March; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 137.
Then Vansittart spoke of the events in Czechoslovakia. They had made a powerful impression in England and driven a nail into the coffin of the Munich policy. The situation must be exploited to the full. The attack on Czechoslovakia indicates that Hitler has turned towards the east. But the west cannot rest easily either. It is essential for the east and the west to join forces to stop Hitler…
Upon leaving, I met Corbin in the reception room. He was in a panic and asked me anxiously what I thought about the events in Central Europe.
15 March
I had lunch at Randolph Churchill’s. Also present were his father, Lord Dufferin
Basil Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood (4th marquess of Dufferin and Ava), lord-in-waiting, 1936–37; parliamentary undersecretary of state for the colonies, 1937–40.
(deputy minister for colonies), the son of Lord Camrose
The son was John Seymour Berry (2nd Viscount Camrose).
(publisher of the Daily Telegraph), and the American correspondent Roy Howard,
Roy Wilson Howard, editor and president of the New York World-Telegram and The Sun, 1931–60.
who was granted the celebrated interview with Comrade Stalin in March 1936 which stopped Japanese aggression against the M[ongolian] P[eople’s] R[epublic]. We spoke, of course, about the international situation, first and foremost about Czechoslovakia.
Winston Churchill expressed his view that Hitler’s move against Czechoslovakia by no means signified a turn towards the east. Before striking a serious blow to the west, Hitler simply had to secure his rear, i.e. liquidate the Czechoslovak army, the Czechoslovak air force, etc. Moreover, Hitler was very keen to reinforce himself with Czechoslovak weapons, ammunition, aircraft and excellent armament factories.
Winston Churchill inquired with great anxiety about the meaning behind Stalin’s speech. Was it a refusal to cooperate with the democracies?
I replied that such an interpretation would be incorrect. We have always been and remain advocates of collective retaliation against aggression, but it is essential that the ‘democracies’ should also be prepared to fight against the aggressors and not just chatter about it.
Churchill attaches great significance to Hudson’s visit. This is a manifest sign of change in the sentiments of the ruling circles. Even if Chamberlain conceived Hudson’s visit as merely a tactical manoeuvre (I raised this possibility), the logic of events will give it a far more serious tone.


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I did not like Roy Howard – too self-assured, too primitive, too ‘American’. I had a minor wrangle with him. In a rather arrogant and disparaging manner, Howard began to lecture all of us, particularly the British, about what they must and must not do in the sphere of foreign policy. He gave the impression that we, Americans, could not care less about Europe. Winston Churchill disputed this at length, arguing brilliantly that Britain and France represented the United States’ first line of defence, and that if it was broken the Germans would appear in South America and Canada and threaten New York and Washington. But Howard didn’t even want to hear about this.
His attitude enraged me, and I moved onto the offensive. I’m very unhappy with the state of affairs in Europe and I frequently and severely criticize British and French policies because they deserve it. But who gave the USA the right to hector us all like this? What is the position of the USA itself? American statesmen deliver fine speeches against Japanese aggression in China, while American industrialists supply Japanese aggressors with guns and aeroplanes. Is this an example of proper conduct? I continued in this vein for quite some time, much to the delight of the British.
Encouraged by my speech, one of them (I think it was Lord Camrose’s son) thought it wise to defend Britain’s position in the Manchurian issue. Here I had to speak out against the English and I deplored their conduct in 1932, using very strong language. Now it was Howard’s turn to rejoice. He clasped my hand and exclaimed: ‘You see, we are on the same side of the barricades!’
16 March
Yesterday I gave a speech at a grand dinner of machine-tool builders, attended by more than 600 guests. The speech is cited at great length by today’s papers. The Yorkshire Post gives the fullest account.
The audience’s response to my speech was curious. In general, the people were attentive and sympathetic throughout, but I got the heaviest applause at three particular moments. First, when I said that the Soviet government ‘has always been and remains an advocate of universal peace’ (moderate cheers), ‘but certainly not at any price’ (lengthy loud clapping). Second, when I said that ‘today no clash of interests exists between the USSR and the British Empire in any part of the world’ (loud cheers). Third, when I said at the end that ‘in the last resort peace or war in our time depends on the kind of relations which exist between London and Moscow’ (a storm of applause).
By contrast, those parts of my speech that concerned economic relations and opportunities for the further development of Anglo-Soviet trade were heard with polite sympathy but without enthusiasm.


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Considering that the audience consisted almost entirely of business men – industrialists, engineers, bankers, etc. – such a reaction is most significant.
17 March
Aras
Tevfik Rüştü Aras, Turkish ambassador to Great Britain, 1939–42.
invited me round at six in the evening to compare views on current events. Simopoulos (the Greek) and Tilea
Virgil Viorel Tilea, Rumanian ambassador to London, 1938–40.
(the Rumanian) were already there when I arrived. They were all in an agitated state. The Greek was demonstrably alarmed. Tilea was trying to put on a brave face, but I could see that he, too, was not quite himself.
Tilea told us that he had just met Halifax. He had handed him an SOS on behalf of his government. The Rumanian government wanted to alert the British government to the fact that the complete complacency of the West following Hitler’s seizure of Prague had created the impression in Bucharest that Hitler was omnipotent in C[entral] and S[outh]-E[ast] Europe. In the light of this, the Rumanian government must decide on the course of its future conduct. Before making a definitive choice, however, the Rumanian government would like to receive a clear answer from the British government to the following question: can Rumania count on British support in the struggle for its independence and, if she can, what kind of support could Rumania expect from Britain?
To substantiate his démarche, Tilea decided on his own initiative to inform Halifax of the demands made of the Rumanian government by Wohlthat,
Helmut Wohlthat, director of Göring’s Four Year Plan.
adviser to Germany’s Ministry of Economics, who is presently in Bucharest. In general, these amounted to the demand that Rumania must, in agreement with Germany, gradually dispense with its entire industry, give up trade with all other countries, ship 100% of its exports to Germany, and receive from Germany 100% of its imports.
According to Tilea, this information made a strong impression on Halifax, who promised to reply to the question posed by the Rumanian government in two to three days. Halifax, incidentally, showed interest in the current state of Rumanian–Soviet relations and asked Tilea what the Soviet stand would be in the event of an act of German aggression against Rumania.
Today, Vansittart invited me to the Foreign Office ‘for a purely private conversation’ and had a talk with me which was anything but private.
The annexation of Czechoslovakia, he said, had made a quite shocking impression on England. The policy of ‘appeasement’ is dead and will never be resurrected. The rats are already deserting the sinking ship. Just look at Lady Astor: yesterday she demanded in parliament that the prime minister convey


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to Hitler ‘the feeling of outrage felt throughout the country at his actions in C[entral] E[urope]’. Incredible! Look at Beverley Buxton, an orthodox ‘appeaser’ on the staff of the Sunday Times (he runs the ‘Men, Women and Memoirs’ section). Two days ago he came out with a speech in London full of indignation against the ‘treachery’ of Germany. Lastly, just look at the press: even The Times has abruptly changed its course. No, the situation today is definitely not the same as it was. There can be no return to the past.
Vansittart spoke with great animation and emotion.
But I was unconvinced. I started expressing my doubts. How many times over the past two years have I heard assurances that the ‘situation has changed’, that ‘Chamberlain has finally understood’, that the policy of ‘appeasement’ has come to an end, etc. – but what do we see in reality? Neither Austria, nor Czechoslovakia, nor Spain has had a sobering effect on British policy. I fear the same might happen again. There will be a great hue and cry in England for the next few weeks, both inside and outside parliament, but then feelings will subside, and if Hitler and Mussolini make no new forays, everything will gradually return to its habitual, ‘appeasing’ routine.


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Vansittart would not agree. He began arguing afresh and with even greater excitement that my fears were unfounded. The seizure of Prague does not resemble the seizure of Austria. England really has seen the light. All Vansittart’s predictions have come to pass. His time, for which he has been preparing for years, has finally come – the time for setting up a mighty anti-German bloc! But all advocates of resistance to aggression now face a very serious challenge: to exploit to the full the favourable current situation. We must strike while the iron is hot. Hitler will not wait. Where will he throw himself now, after Prague? What’s next in line? Memel? Danzig? Rumania? Yugoslavia?… No one can say for sure. But it is absolutely clear that an alliance of Britain, France and the USSR, with the possible participation of Poland, Rumania and Scandinavia, is the only way of stopping German aggression. We must work at frantic speed to achieve this. Beck is coming to London in early April – that’s good. Vansittart pins great hopes on Beck’s visit, even though he has no illusions about the personal qualities of the Polish foreign minister. Hudson is leaving for Moscow tomorrow, and that is also very good. Everything possible must be done to ensure the success of Hudson’s mission. Vansittart is aware that relations between Moscow and Paris have been rather frosty of late – that’s bad. Can anything be done to improve Franco-Soviet relations? Could we not take the initiative ourselves in this respect?
I said that, considering the experience of the past year, particularly the September crisis and Munich, the Soviet government would hardly find it possible to take the first step.
Vansittart then displayed interest in our relations with Poland and Rumania. In particular, could Rumania count on our aid if it fell victim to German aggression? In what form?
I conveyed to Vansittart the relevant information, emphasizing the progress made towards the improvement of our relations with Poland and Rumania in the past six months, but I warned him against overestimating the degree of improvement. Concerning aid to Rumania in the event of a German attack, I had nothing concrete to tell him for the time being. I quoted Comrade Stalin’s famous statement at the 18th Party Congress about support for the victims of aggression who struggled for their independence, but added that the concrete application of this principle depended on the particular circumstances of each individual case.
Vansittart seemed pleased with my explanations and began insisting once again that all peace-loving powers must urgently make up their mind. It is time for Britain, France and the USSR to decide what they are going to do regarding the tripartite bloc. Britain and France must decide now what they would do in the event of German aggression against the Netherlands and Switzerland.


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The Soviet Union must decide now what it would do in the event of German aggression against Poland and Rumania. The year 1938 was defined by the way Hitler unleashed his blows against a disunited and unprepared Europe. If we wish to avert war, the year 1939 should be marked by the powerful unification of all peace-loving states to repulse the aggressors. The primary prerequisite for this is the formation of a London–Paris–Moscow ‘axis’.
I laughed and observed that Vansittart’s thoughts struck me as entirely fair, but that he was preaching to the wrong party. He knows better than anyone else that the USSR has always been an advocate of collective resistance against aggressors and of a bloc of peace-loving states in the struggle against international ‘gangsters’. But who kept sabotaging the efforts of the USSR? Who systematically inflicted one blow after another on the League of Nations? Who thwarted the creation of a peace front? England and France. Let Vansittart first worry about setting the governments of these two countries on the path of virtue. We won’t be the stumbling block.
Vansittart agreed with my reasoning, but added at the end: ‘I assure you that from now on we will be singing a different tune.’
‘Let’s wait and see,’ I replied.
The gap between Litvinov’s and Maisky’s expectations was widening. Litvinov rightly assumed that Hudson had not been authorized to make any concrete proposals. He discouraged Maisky from making any initiatives, the more so as all the Soviet proposals for collective security had been ignored; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, docs. 146 & 155.
19 March
The atmosphere in Europe is becoming increasingly heated. On the evening of 17 March, in a speech in Birmingham, Chamberlain was sharply critical of Germany for its latest actions, but he did not risk drawing all the important logical conclusions. The front pages of yesterday’s papers brought sensational news about ‘Germany’s ultimatum to Rumania’, reproducing Tilea’s account at Aras’s gathering on 17 March. As I have learned, this news was given to the press by Halifax himself on the same evening. The ‘German ultimatum’ made a deep impression in England and France.
Halifax, however, did not limit himself to publication of the ‘ultimatum’. On the same evening of 17 March, Halifax sent out urgent inquiries to Paris, Moscow, Warsaw, Ankara and possibly some other capitals, asking the respective governments what their response would be to German aggression against Rumania.
Seeds presented M.M. [Litvinov] with this inquiry on the morning of 18 March. M.M. inquired in his turn about the British government’s position and added that Rumania itself had not sought assistance from us. He nonetheless promised to report Seeds’ inquiry to the Soviet government, and the same evening he communicated our proposal to Seeds: to convene immediately a conference of the six powers which were most concerned with the matter


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(Britain, France, USSR, Poland, Turkey and Rumania), and to discuss measures by which to confront the imminent danger. It would be advisable to hold the conference in Bucharest. But this could be negotiated.
While Seeds was paying his first visit to M.M. in Moscow, here in London I was summoned by Halifax. He first spoke about Hudson (who was about to leave London, at 2 p.m. on 18 March) and asked that he be given a warm welcome. The Cabinet had not given Hudson any strict instructions. He was free to discuss both economic and political issues. His mission was aimed, among other things, at dispelling Moscow’s suspicions about the objectives of British policy and, upon returning home, at helping to dispel certain ‘misunderstandings’ currently circulating in London with regard to the USSR. It would be most important if Hudson could have the opportunity in Moscow to learn a little about the current state of the Soviet armed forces. In this connection, Halifax began asking me about the Red Army’s strength, its armaments, etc. In reply, I supplied the data from Comrade Voroshilov’s speech at the 18th Party Congress. One could sense that Halifax had heard an earful of anti-Soviet stories about the ‘weakness’, ‘degeneration’, etc. of the Soviet armed forces.


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Halifax then moved on to current events. He said that the government had recalled Henderson from Berlin for ‘consultation’, that Stanley’s and Hudson’s planned visit to Berlin had been postponed, that payment of British credit worth 10 million to Czechoslovakia was suspended, that the British government was trying to evacuate a certain number of ‘refugees’ who had got stuck in Prague, and that the Foreign Office had sent a note of protest to Berlin (‘which, of course, is absolutely meaningless’, Halifax concluded with a weary gesture).
Finally, Halifax informed me about Seeds’ démarche in Moscow and persistently asked me what the USSR would do in the event of German aggression against Rumania. Could Rumania expect help from the USSR, and in what way? Arms and ammunition? Or might assistance come in more active forms?
I replied that the general view of the Soviet government had been formulated most recently by Comrade Stalin in his statement at the 18th Party Congress: we advocate assistance to victims of aggression who are fighting for their independence. However, it is difficult to tell in advance how this general principle will be applied in each particular case. That will depend on the specific conditions of every specific case. Halifax seemed satisfied with my answer.
I met Halifax at 12.45. Earlier, at eleven in the morning, I had a conversation with Vansittart, who spoke heatedly and at length about the importance of making Hudson’s visit a ‘success’. British sentiments are rapidly changing, owing to the latest events. Leadership in foreign policy is returning from 10, Downing Street to the Foreign Office. Halifax now shares Vansittart’s view of things. A successful outcome to Hudson’s visit would definitively consolidate the triumph of the new course in British foreign policy, the course Vansittart has been upholding for many years…
At 3 p.m. today I saw Halifax, to inform him of our answer to the British inquiry (although Seeds had certainly notified him about it through his own channels, there was no harm in my repeating it just to make sure) and, most importantly, to find out what the British government thought of it. It was Sunday, but Halifax was in the Foreign Office. Moreover, he had already exchanged opinions with the PM earlier in the morning, concerning our proposal for a six-power conference. Halifax finds the proposal ‘premature’: if the conference is not prepared properly in advance, it could culminate in failure, with a negative political effect. Besides, we must act quickly, whereas the convening of a conference will take some time. So, instead of a conference, the British government suggests the prompt issuing of a ‘declaration of the four’ (Britain, France, USSR and Poland) to the effect that the said powers will respond to the threat of aggression by immediately organizing a consultation on measures of resistance. This is the first step. Then, after the four powers sign the declaration, the remaining peace-loving countries will be invited to join, and a conference


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of the respective countries may be convened, where the methods and forms of fighting aggression will be discussed. Of course, agreement must be reached primarily by the big boys, i.e. the ‘big four’.
I began to object. I said that the conference could be convened in a few days if there was a desire to do so, that an announcement of the date and venue could be published tomorrow, that this alone would have a far-reaching political effect and that if Britain really means business, the risk of the conference failing was very small. But Halifax stuck to his guns. He informed me that the text of the declaration was being worked on. It will be adopted by the Cabinet tomorrow morning and immediately sent to the capitals concerned…
It is clear that Chamberlain does not want a genuine struggle against aggression. He is still working for ‘appeasement’.
20 March
Vansittart asked me to come by. I found him in very high spirits. His face was radiant. All his gestures were full of energy and verve.
‘Things are going well!’ he exclaimed. ‘The text of the declaration has already been sent to Paris, Moscow and Warsaw. This is the first step towards the creation of a “great bloc”. It does not really matter what exactly is written in the declaration; what is crucial is the mere fact of its birth. It will serve as a crystallization point around which a powerful anti-German coalition will form. Some in the government disagree with it. Some are banking on delays and sabotage. No such luck!’
Vansittart asked me to facilitate a speedy – and favourable – reply from the Soviet government so as to deliver the final blow to the ‘appeasers’…
Vansittart gained the wrong impression that, following the German annexation of Czechoslovakia, Maisky had become concerned that the Germans might after all follow the Drang nach Osten and ‘sign anything’ with the British, ‘no matter how definite’; Pimlott, Political Diary of Hugh Dalton, pp. 257–8.
I saw Beaverbrook. He is in a strange mood. He is certain that the policy of ‘appeasement’ is dead and that the British government will now pursue a policy of resistance to aggressors. Personally, Chamberlain is not very happy about it, but the mood in the rank and file of the Conservative Party is such that he cannot act differently. The PM’s speech in the Commons on 15 March aroused strong indignation in the party. Had Chamberlain not changed tack in Birmingham on 17 March, he would have lost the premiership.
‘The country is saying: Germany – that’s our enemy.’
This is why the idea of rapprochement with the USSR is so popular. This is why people in the government are talking about inviting M.M. to London.
‘Personally,’ Beaverbrook concluded, ‘I’m against the policy the Conservative Party is now defending. I’m an isolationist. But if the country wants that policy, I have to take it on board.’
In the evening, first Corbin and then Aras came to visit me. Corbin displayed unexpected revolutionary spirit, saying that he found the text of


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the declaration too feeble. To his mind, it should have been declared that the powers had already started consultation on measures for repelling aggression, instead of merely stating (as the text of the declaration puts it) that they would hold consultations in the event of a threat of aggression. When I asked how the French government had replied to London’s inquiry about the measures to be taken in the event of German aggression against Rumania, Corbin said that Bonnet had stated the necessity of taking ‘strong measures’.
‘What does that mean exactly?’ I asked almost impertinently.
Corbin shook his head and answered with an authoritative air: ‘That was not specified!’
So much for the French ‘revolutionary spirit’!
Aras informed me that in reply to the English inquiry, Turkey had said that it was prepared to take an active part in any measure which Britain, France, the USSR and the Balkan Entente
The alliance of Greece, Rumania, Turkey and Yugoslavia, concluded in 1934.
deemed necessary in order to save Rumania, but that it would not budge without the USSR. Moreover, Aras told me that the Bulgarian prime minister, Kiosseivanov,
Georgi Kiosseivanov, Bulgarian prime minister and foreign minister, 1935–40.
who visited Ankara a few days ago, had asked the Turks whether they would agree to support Bulgaria’s demand for the return of Dobrudja. The Turks replied that they thought it impossible to support measures directed against a member of the Balkan Entente, but they were ready, together with Rumania and Bulgaria, to study the problem and look for an appropriate solution in the event of Bulgaria joining the Balkan Entente. Kiosseivanov then asked how Turkey would act if, following German aggression against Rumania, Bulgaria occupied Dobrudja by force. To this the Turks apparently replied: ‘In such a case, Turkey, in accordance with its commitments to the Little Entente,
Mutual defence arrangement, signed between Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia and Rumania as part of the post-First World War arrangements, directed against Austro-German and Hungarian revisionism and attempts to dominate the Danube River basin. It lost its raison d’être after the German occupation of Czechoslovakia.
would immediately act against Bulgaria.’
In spite of this answer, Kiosseivanov, according to Aras, left Ankara with a feeling of deep satisfaction.
22 March
Today we gave our reply to the British: we are prepared to sign their ‘declaration of the four’ if France and Poland sign it, too. To add weight to the declaration, we propose that it be signed not only by the foreign ministers of the four countries, but also by their premiers.
So, Britain, France and the USSR have given their consent. But what about Poland? Yesterday, at a banquet at the palace in honour of Lebrun,
Albert Lebrun, 14th and last president of France’s Third Republic, 1932–40.
I questioned Raczyński (the Polish ambassador) about this. He said that he approved of the declaration personally and would willingly sign it, but he wasn’t sure that


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Warsaw shared his attitude. Raczyński is a poor representative of Beck. He is a Westernist and a League of Nations man, and you can hardly use him to judge what the Polish government is thinking. We will see…
At Covent Garden this evening, for an opera in – once again – Lebrun’s honour, Aras told me that Bonnet rates the chances of a Franco-Italian ‘settlement’ as fifty-fifty. I doubt it. In any case, Bonnet is using various unofficial channels (Laval, in particular) to test the ground in Rome for a new act of appeasement. The English are egging him on.
At the opera house I also learned the following curious details from Balutis about the talk between the Lithuanian foreign minister, Urbšys,
Juozas Urbšys, Lithuanian foreign minister, 1938–41.
and Ribbentrop which took place a few days ago. Urbšys was on his way back from Rome, where he had gone to attend the pope’s funeral, and had made a stop in Berlin. Ribbentrop told Urbšys in plain words that there was only one ‘moot point’ between Germany and Lithuania: Memel. As soon as this was settled, harmony would reign in relations between the two countries. As Ribbentrop sees it, the time has come to ‘settle’ the problem: Memel must be given back to Germany. Embarrassed, Urbšys said that directly upon his return to Kovno he would report Ribbentrop’s point of view to his government and then convey its reply in principle to Ribbentrop. The latter interrupted Urbšys rudely and snapped back: ‘I’m interested in Memel, not principles.’
Then, pointing to the telephone on the table, Ribbentrop continued impudently: ‘Pick up the receiver, call your prime minister, and we shall settle the Memel problem at once, without further delay.’
Shaken, Urbšys pleaded that he be allowed to discuss the matter with his government on his return to Kovno. In the end, Ribbentrop gave his reluctant consent, but declared: ‘I give you two or three days to come to a final decision about Memel. If you fail to do so, we shall have to take other measures.’
Today, Balutis informed Halifax about Urbšys’s talk with Ribbentrop. The latter reacted in the following way: England expresses its sympathy for Lithuania, but can do nothing to help.
[There was no ambiguity in the Soviet condemnation of Hitler’s annexation of Czechoslovakia on 15 March. Litvinov submitted to Schulenburg ‘a sharply worded’ message, which was promptly published in the Soviet press. Unexpectedly, Stalin consented to sign the declaration with full pomp and circumstance, regardless of the fact that the Soviet proposal for a six-power conference had been turned down as ‘premature’. This acceptance, however, was clearly tactical, probing British reaction to the anticipated Polish refusal to join in. Maisky admitted to Dalton that the object of the Soviet proposal was ‘to test British and French intentions of which they were suspicious’.
Dalton, Fateful Years, p. 232.
In the meantime, Litvinov, who remained highly sceptical, forbade his


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diplomats from taking any initiative. ‘If Britain and France genuinely change their line,’ he instructed them, ‘they should either make their views on our former proposals known or else offer their own. The initiative must be left to them.’
TNA FO 371 23061 C3683/3356/18, Report of conversations between Seeds and Litvinov, 21 March 1939; God Krizisa, I, nos. 206 & 215, 20 & 22 March 1939.
The scepticism was well justified. At an ad hoc emergency meeting between Chamberlain, Halifax and a few other ministers at Downing Street that Sunday afternoon, it was agreed that Halifax’s idea of consultations between the major powers following the declaration was ‘far-reaching and went very far indeed beyond any previous pronouncements’. It was therefore decided to dilute the undertaking by ‘laying the chief emphasis on the formal declaration, and dealing in much more general terms with the subsequent consultations’. Seeing which way the wind was blowing, Halifax failed to inform Cabinet that, in his conversation with Maisky, he had already committed Britain to the conference and had even promised a press release to that effect the following day.
TNA FO 371 22967 C3859/15/18, Report of the ministers’ meeting. See Maisky’s report of the conversation with Halifax in God Krizisa, I, no. 202. Also reported at length by Corbin to Paris: ‘Il est évident que cette déclaration tentait à certains égards de l’ambassadeur de l’U.R.S.S.’ DDF, 2 Serie, XV, Doc. 97.
Maisky, who found it difficult to abide by Litvinov’s instructions, continued to use his old method of inciting his interlocutors to come up with ideas which, unbeknownst to the Kremlin, often originated with him. At the same time, even he was forced to admit that the widespread disillusionment with appeasement had only a limited impact for as long as Chamberlain remained ‘firmly settled in his saddle’.
God Krizisa, I, nos. 194, 197, 198, 204 & 207, exchanges between Litvinov, Maisky and Surits, 18, 19 & 20 March, and Maisky to Litvinov, 22 March; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 16.
]
23 March
Today a Labour delegation met Chamberlain and categorically demanded vigorous measures: England should assume definite commitments on the continent, including the eastern part of Europe, and should also support our proposal to convene a ‘six-power conference’.
In an obvious effort to chime with the mood of the deputation, the prime minister scolded Hitler, stressed his wish to cooperate with the USSR, complained about Poland, whose attitude to the USSR made it difficult to build a ‘peace bloc’ in Europe, and ended by stating that the British government was preparing ‘serious measures’ to fight aggression. The delegation left under the general impression that Chamberlain was scared and had lost all his ‘optimism’. But their conclusion must be taken with a large pinch of salt: Labourites are terribly gullible in their dealings with the powers that be.
Later, on meeting Chamberlain in parliament, Attlee and Greenwood asked him bluntly: was the prime minister prepared to undertake firm military commitments in Eastern Europe? The PM replied: ‘Yes, I am.’
25 March
Rumania has signed a trade agreement with Germany
Signing the agreement on 23 March 1939, Rumania lost her economic sovereignty, ceding control of her economy to Germany and paving the way to her eventual inclusion in the Axis.
that differs but slightly from the ‘ultimatum’ Tilea was talking about a few days ago. Rumania’s capitulation has made a very powerful impression on parliament and the press. The newspapers, especially the Daily Telegraph, are demanding prompt


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and forceful measures from the government. In the corridors of the House, there is talk once more of the need for a Cabinet reshuffle. But Chamberlain remains true to himself. My general impression is that the PM still believes in appeasement and still hopes to push Hitler toward the Ukraine. But the public’s mood is rapidly hardening. England sees again in its mind’s eye the phantom of a great power striving for hegemony on the continent. This phantom has awoken past fears and mighty passions in the English soul. Philip II of Spain, Louis XIV, Napoleon I, the kaiser! England has waged stubborn and destructive wars against the ‘hegemons’ of the past. She has satisfied herself only with their complete annihilation. The same feelings and moods are elicited by the name of Hitler today. Of course, were Hitler to move east, decisive steps against Germany could be postponed. But most Tories are far from convinced about Hitler’s ‘eastern aspirations’. Very many of them fear the opposite: that Hitler, having secured Balkan and Baltic resources of raw materials and food, and having immobilized Poland by one method or another, will bring his colossal, newly acquired might to bear on France and England. Hence the immense upsurge of anti-German sentiment and the equally immense eagerness to create a united front against aggression. By analogy with the precedents of the past, one would have expected England to take up the fight against Germany, with all the ensuing consequences. But here’s the question: to what extent does the ‘social factor’ (the decay of British capitalism and the English bourgeoisie’s fear of revolution) modify the well-known models of centuries past? We will see.
However this may be, we cannot exclude the possibility that Chamberlain – and it has to be Chamberlain – will very soon have to decide whether or not to undertake military commitments in Eastern Europe. And even whether or not to form a close alliance with the USSR.
[On the afternoon of 29 March, barely two hours before entertaining the king and queen to dinner, Chamberlain was alerted by Halifax to intelligence reports from Berlin about an impending German attack on Poland. The two decided ‘then & there’ to issue a guarantee declaration, promising Poland assistance ‘in the event of any action which clearly threatened Polish independence’. The drafting of the impetuous declaration, which was aimed at pacifying public opinion at home while deterring Germany, was deliberately ambiguous. The Germans were expected to infer from the message that the British government was more concerned with Germany resorting to force than with the sanctity of borders. It further implied that activation of the guarantee was conditional on the Poles making conciliatory moves, while it was left to the British to establish whether a threat to Poland existed; meanwhile the issue of military aid was conspicuously absent. To his inner circle, it was clear that Chamberlain was ‘unhappy’ in his new role as architect of a ‘diluted collective security’. ‘Munich and the betrayal of the Czechs over again’, was Dalton’s judgement.
TNA CAB 23/98 17(39), 31 March 1939; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 309–401; Rhodes, Chips, p. 193; Dalton, Fateful Years, p. 239. On the guarantees, see, A. Prazmowska, Britain, Poland and the Eastern Front, 1939 (Cambridge, 1987).
Chamberlain deliberately opted for Poland, rather than Russia, as an ally, against the firm advice of the chiefs of staff. By so doing, he not only pushed the Russians further


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into isolation, but also inadvertently set the scene for a Soviet–German rapprochement (dictated by the Kremlin’s wish to steal a march on Britain).
A sound argument is produced by R. Manne, ‘The British decision for alliance with Russia, May 1939’, Journal of Contemporary History 9/3 (1974), pp. 3–17. See also W. Wark, ‘Something very stern: British political intelligence, moralism and grand strategy in 1939’, Intelligence and National Security, 5/1 (1990), pp. 163–4.
Pondering his diary entries for that period, Cadogan confessed in 1964 that they gave ‘the impression of a number of amateurs fumbling about with insoluble problems’. But even then he was entirely dismissive of the Russian alternative.
Cadogan papers, ACAD 4/4, Letter to Colvin, 20 Jan. 1964.
]
29 March
I visited Cadogan.
Maisky had been trying in vain to meet Halifax. He was finally diverted to Cadogan, whose task was ‘to stall him’. Monsieur Maisky, Cadogan concluded the official report, ‘as is his wont, accepted very grudgingly my explanations’; Cadogan papers, ACAD 1/8, 23 March 1939; TNA FO 371 23062 C4155/3356/18 & 23681 N1683/92/38, 29 March 1939.
First of all, I requested an explanation for the strange incident that occurred regarding the communiqué which concluded Hudson’s visit to Moscow. The essence of the incident is as follows. On 27 March, Mikoyan and Litvinov on one side and Hudson and Seeds on the other agreed on the text of the communiqué, which was then handed over to TASS. Late in the evening, when TASS had already circulated the communiqué across the Soviet Union, Hudson and Seeds looked for Litvinov and informed him that the Foreign Office was demanding that no mention of politics be made in the communiqué. M.M. replied that it was too late to make any modifications to the communiqué that had already been distributed, but, if the British side so wished, an amended version could be sent abroad. Hudson and Seeds discussed it between themselves and came to the conclusion that such a solution would not be advantageous. So the communiqué remained unchanged. But Seeds and especially Hudson were clearly worried and upset. Having recounted all these circumstances to Cadogan, I asked him: what was I to make of the incident?
Cadogan replied that nothing terrible had happened and that it was senseless to blow the incident out of proportion. It was like this. At about 7.30 p.m. (10.30 Moscow time) on 27 March, the Foreign Office received a telegram from Moscow saying that the communiqué to be issued after the talks touched not only upon trade matters, but also on political ones. The draft communiqué was not, however, attached to the telegram. Cadogan grew anxious. Although Hudson had not been forbidden from discussing political matters, he was not on the staff of the Foreign Office, which had little idea of the nature of the political talks Hudson had pursued in Moscow. Cadogan’s first impulse was to request the text of the communiqué from Moscow, but, after a glance at his watch, he realized it was too late for that. So, to avoid any unexpected surprises, Cadogan decided to ‘play safe’ and sent a directive to Moscow to remove anything political from the communiqué. The directive, it later transpired, arrived too late, and the communiqué was published in its original version. Cadogan does not regret its appearance, for having read the published text he found it quite all right. But on the evening of the 27th he did not know that,


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which is why he acted as he did. And that’s the long and the short of it. The significance of the episode should not be exaggerated.
I objected that the incident had produced an unpleasant impression in Moscow. We had no particular desire to include political matters in the communiqué. But since the British press and such persons as Halifax, Vansittart and Hudson himself had constantly been emphasizing the political importance of Hudson’s visit, Cadogan’s instruction concerning the communiqué struck a dissonant chord. Cadogan was embarrassed, apologized, and assured me that there had been no malicious intent in his actions. Perhaps. Yet there is no doubt that he greatly dislikes Hudson: he spoke about him with obvious annoyance and hidden scorn. Or maybe the whole point is that Hudson is a man promoted, so to speak, by Vansittart? As we know, Cadogan and Vansittart don’t get along.
Then the conversation turned to other matters. Cadogan asked me whether I had read yesterday’s statement by the PM in parliament. I replied that I had and, moreover, had been greatly surprised by it. Chamberlain said that the British government’s intentions ‘go significantly farther than mere consultation’ and that ‘the powers, with which we are in consultation, have been given to understand clearly what actions we are ready to undertake under certain circumstances’. Until now I’ve had every reason to believe that the Soviet Union is one of the powers with which Britain is in consultation, but I am as yet aware only of the draft ‘declaration of the four’ that stipulates ‘consultation’, and nothing more. Is it any surprise that I was somewhat taken aback yesterday by the prime minister’s revelation?
In saying this, I intentionally went a little over the top: I had already gleaned something of the British government’s new plans from unofficial sources, but the Foreign Office had not said a word about it to me.
Cadogan was a bit embarrassed and started explaining the current situation. It turns out that ‘the declaration of the four’ is now in the past. The Poles refused in the most categorical terms, and the Rumanians somewhat less flatly, to join any scheme (whether in the form of a declaration or something else) to which the USSR would be party. Moreover, they made it clear that the ‘consultation’ specified in the declaration did not suit them at all and that they could enter a peace bloc only if Britain and France undertook firm military commitments. Consequently, intensive consultation had been under way between London and Paris, and also Warsaw, in the last couple of days. The view that has come to dominate British government circles at present is as follows: as an initial stage it is necessary to build a four-power bloc of Britain, France, Poland and Rumania, with the former two committing themselves to armed defence of the latter two in the event of German aggression against them. The USSR remains to one side for the time being, but it will be drawn in at the second stage. As to the forms


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and nature of cooperation with the USSR, the British government plans to hold special talks with us on this matter.
Listening to Cadogan, I did not hide my deep mistrust. Knowing the English and the traditions of British foreign policy, I could not accept that Chamberlain would make any firm commitments in Eastern Europe. Therefore, to clarify the situation fully, I asked Cadogan directly: ‘Suppose Germany attacks Poland tomorrow. Will England declare war on Germany if that happens? Will she impose a blockade on the German coasts and bomb German fortifications?’
To my surprise, Cadogan replied: ‘Yes, she will declare war, impose a blockade on the coasts, and bomb from the air… Assuming, of course, that the Cabinet accepts the entire plan.’
Cadogan looked at his watch, which showed 1 p.m. and added: ‘Maybe the plan has already been adopted. The Cabinet is in session right now.’
I expressed my doubts about this. Cadogan was not quite sure of the Cabinet decision himself. Noticing a smile on my face, Cadogan asked: ‘Why are you smirking? Do you not believe me?’
‘I’m smirking,’ I replied, ‘because your new plan, assuming that it is carried out, which I doubt very much, would mean a sort of revolution in traditional British foreign policy, and it is common knowledge that you don’t like revolutions here in Great Britain.’
Cadogan shrugged his shoulders and said: ‘Yes, of course, that would be a revolution in our foreign policy. That is why it is taking us so long to reach a final decision. But the mood in the country is such that firm guarantees to Poland and Rumania are becoming a real possibility.’
Cadogan informed Halifax that Maisky was astonished by the new plan, which, if executed, was tantamount to ‘a revolutionary change in British policy’ and might have ‘far-reaching


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results’. Maisky indeed wrote to Litvinov in the same vein on 30 March; TNA FO 371 22968 C4401/15/18, 23062 C4692/3356/18 & 23681 N1721/92/38; and God Krizisa, I, no. 243. Maisky’s positive response was in brazen defiance of the reserve advocated by Litvinov; A. Resis in ‘The fall of Litvinov: Harbinger of the German–Soviet non-aggression pact’, Europe-Asia Studies, 52/1 (2000), p. 38 is right to be perplexed by the unorthodox line assumed by Maisky.
[According to Fitzroy Maclean
Sir Fitzroy Maclean, member of the British embassy in Moscow; resigned from the Foreign Office in 1939 to join the military, rising from the rank of private to brigadier, to become Churchill’s personal representative to Tito in 1943.
at the British embassy, Hudson had arrived in Moscow with ‘an anodyne message of encouragement’ from Halifax and a vague promise of a political deal which served as the basis for the communiqué. A few hours before Hudson’s departure from Moscow, a telegram arrived from London instructing the delegation ‘to stick to commercial negotiations and in no circumstances to broach any political matters whatever’. Litvinov, who had left for his dacha for the weekend, was hauled back to Moscow. When he heard the news, ‘he replied acidly that he had thought he was dealing with a plenipotentiary, but now found that he was a second-rate office boy’. ‘A pusher and a crook’ was Cadogan’s blunt judgement of Hudson.
F. Maclean, Fitzroy Maclean (London, 1992), pp. 50–1; Cadogan papers, diary, ACAD 1/8, 17 April 1939.
Earlier, Litvinov had convinced Stalin that Hudson had not been authorized to make concrete proposals. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that we too should not make any concrete proposals or offer a concrete form of cooperation. It will be enough to explain our general stand in the spirit of your report to the Congress.’
DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 157.
Litvinov informed Maisky on 28 March that the communiqué contained ‘absolutely non-binding formulations’, that ‘no proposals had


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been made by either side’, and that ‘the visit had no political or economic repercussions whatsoever’.
God Krizisa, I, nos. 233 & 234.
]
31 March
Poland is the centre of attention. The German press is waging a rabid campaign against Poland. German troops are concentrated on the Polish border. Hitler is expected to strike any moment now, but in which direction? That is not quite clear as yet. Most probably, Danzig or Silesia. Or maybe in both directions at once.
In view of the current situation, the British diplomatic machinery has been working at a quite uncharacteristically frenzied pace for the last seven or eight days. When it transpired that ‘the declaration of the four’ was not viable due to Poland’s objections, the British government, without breathing a word to us, stepped up its search for other means to stop aggression. As usual, the English took the path of creeping empiricism, i.e. the method of the rule of thumb. They decided: since at this precise moment it is Poland that faces acute danger, let’s think how to help Poland. And only Poland. Fighting aggression in Europe in general does not interest us. Two days ago already, Cadogan informed me of the direction which the British government’s thinking was taking. By the way, no decision was taken in the end at the Cabinet meeting on 29 March. But on the same evening and yesterday, 30 March, there was an almost unbroken flow of meetings of the Cabinet and of its Foreign Policy Committee (Chamberlain, Halifax, Simon, Hoare and two or three more ministers) in attempts to find the best way of helping Poland. It was only today that the results of all this unusual activity on Downing Street became known. More on this below.
What needs mentioning now is that Labourites have been in very close contact with the prime minister over the past two days and that yesterday they met him twice. Since the Foreign Office is forever spreading rumours through the press that the British government is in close touch with the Soviet government, and since, on the other hand, the Labourites have learned from me that I have not seen Halifax for 12 days (since 19 March) and that almost the same situation obtains with Seeds in Moscow (he last saw M.M. on 22 March, when the latter handed him our reply concerning the ‘declaration of the four’), the pressure exerted by Attlee, Greenwood, Dalton and others was all aimed at achieving genuine cooperation between England and the USSR. Late yesterday evening, a Labour deputation consisting of Dalton, Alexander
Albert Victor Alexander, Labour’s first lord of the Admiralty, 1929–31 and 1940–46.
and others had a substantial conversation with Chamberlain on this matter, and the latter


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assured them that he was all for cooperating with the ‘Soviets’ right away, but those obnoxious ‘Poles’ were getting in the way.
Though prohibited by Moscow from taking any initiative, Maisky was working frenziedly behind the scenes to exert pressure on Chamberlain. On the morning of 30 March, Greenwood had learned of the guarantees from Chamberlain, who was anxious to receive at least tacit Soviet support. Quoting from Cadogan’s report on his meeting with Maisky, which was lying on the desk, Chamberlain assured Greenwood that Maisky seemed to be ‘satisfied with this formula’. Shortly afterwards, however, as he had suspected, Dalton found the ambassador seriously irritated ‘because he was out of touch’: he had not met Halifax since 19 March and felt unable to advise his government, which was pressing him for information. Likewise, Beatrice Webb, who visited Maisky at the embassy the following morning as he anxiously waited to be summoned to Whitehall, found him distrustful of the British and the French governments, which he suspected were seeking a pact with Poland ‘omitting the Soviet Union and even antagonistic to its interests’. Without delay, Dalton sought a second meeting with Chamberlain late at night. The prime minister, however, was reluctant to bring the Russians in because of the fierce opposition of other countries; Dalton, Fateful Years, p. 237–8; Webb, diary, 31 March 1939, p. 6639.
Possibly in order to prepare himself with excuses in similar situations, Chamberlain instructed Halifax to meet me. On the 29th, after lunch, I received a call from the Foreign Office asking me to visit Halifax at seven in the evening. I accepted. But at 6 p.m., Halifax’s secretary phoned me again to say that, unfortunately, the minister couldn’t receive me today and asked me to come at 4 p.m. the following day. Once again I accepted. On 30 March at 3 p.m. there was another call from the Foreign Office: it turned out that the foreign secretary couldn’t receive me on this day either and wished to postpone my visit to the following morning at 10.30. I agreed to that as well. On the 31st, at 10 a.m., yet another call came from the FO: Halifax was unable to keep his last promise. He would let me know when he could see me.
Anxious to avoid the meeting, Halifax informed Cabinet that he ‘had not been able to see M. Maisky that morning as the Ambassador was not available. He hoped to see him before 3 o’clock. If this was not possible, he intended to send a telephone message to Moscow.’ But Maisky, who met Lloyd George’s secretary that morning, complained to him that ‘[Halifax] asked me to come at 10.30 this morning. Half an hour ago he rang up again to say he could not see me now and he would communicate later;’ TNA CAB 23/98 17(39), 31 March 1939; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/130, Sylvester to Lloyd George, 31 March 1939.
Finally, at noon on the same day, 31 March, Halifax’s secretary asked me to come to the FO at 12.45. Only then did my meeting with Halifax take place.
It began with much bowing and scraping on the part of the foreign secretary. He was terribly sorry that he had had to postpone our meeting again and again, but during the past two days he had been holding endless meetings.
‘It is not so easy to edit a document that would mean a revolution in our foreign policy,’ Halifax said by way of self-justification.
He then gave me a sheet of paper with the text of the speech the prime minister was to make in parliament at 3 p.m. I quickly skimmed the document. Halifax watched my face attentively, and when I had finished reading, asked me anxiously what I thought about it. I replied that it was difficult for me to formulate a considered opinion, since I had only just seen the text of the prime minister’s statement, but my first reaction was that the document lacked precision. All of the first part repeatedly stressed the importance of ‘peaceful means’ in the settlement of international conflicts, but there was no clear indication at the end that England was prepared to help Poland with armed support. What effect would this have on Hitler? Would he believe in the seriousness of British intentions? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps not.
Halifax told Cabinet that his main concern was the impact which consultations with the Russians might have on the Poles. As for Maisky, he expected him to be ‘perfectly satisfied’ and to say that the Russians ‘were willing to help us if they were allowed to do so’; TNA CAB 23/98 17(39), 31 March 1939.
Halifax started to defend the text of the statement, though it was clear that my words had somewhat confused him. He then asked: ‘But generally speaking, the statement is in line with your aims, is it not?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘but it is not firm and consistent enough.’
Halifax was silent for an instant, before blurting out: ‘What would you think if the prime minister told parliament that the Soviet government also approves of his statement?’
And then, after a little hesitation, he added, as if forcing the words out against his will: ‘If the prime minister could say this, it would greatly alleviate


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the situation… This would prevent unnecessary arguments and discord in our midst…’
I immediately realized what was behind it: Chamberlain wanted to use us as a shield against the opposition’s attacks. Affecting great surprise, I replied: ‘I don’t quite understand you, Lord Halifax. You did not consult us while preparing your Polish action. The Soviet government has not seen the present statement. I myself had the opportunity to familiarize myself with it just a few moments ago. How could the prime minister say that the Soviet government approves of his statement under such circumstances? I think it would be rather awkward.’
Halifax was embarrassed and hastened to say: ‘You may be right.’
So, misrepresentation did not occur. In part, at least. Having failed to gain my consent, Chamberlain did not of course risk saying what he had wanted to say, but nonetheless, replying to Greenwood’s question about the Soviet government’s attitude to his statement, the PM announced that this morning the foreign secretary had had a serious conversation on the matter with the Soviet ambassador, and that he [Chamberlain] was positive that the principles of British actions met with understanding and appreciation on the part of the Soviet government.
Maisky expected the declaration to resuscitate the battered collective security. His reservations reflected the extreme caution he assumed in his communications with Moscow, having been prohibited from making any initiatives. He preferred, therefore, to describe the tough line he had taken with Halifax, discouraging Chamberlain from making any reference to Russia in the anticipated parliamentary debate. However, it emerges from Halifax’s report that he had been given the green light by Maisky after offering an assurance


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that the guarantees were only an emergency measure and would be followed up by further consultations with the Russians. ‘The Ambassador,’ Halifax concluded his report, ‘finally did not raise objection to a statement being made on the Prime Minister’s authority to the effect that His Majesty’s Government had reason to suppose that the Soviet Government would not find themselves other than in agreement with our declaration.’ Moreover, Maisky emphasized that, if implemented, the policy would dovetail with Stalin’s ‘chestnuts speech’ promising assistance to the victims of aggression, the text of which he promptly sent Halifax once the meeting was over; God Krizisa, I, no. 246, Maisky to Litvinov; TNA FO 371 23015 C4528/54/18, Halifax’s report, 31 March 1939; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.892 l.3 & d.1290 l.3, exchange between Maisky and Halifax, 31 March and 3 April. Maisky’s reserved support is also clear in TNA FO 371 23016, C4575/54/18, Halifax to Seeds, 4 April 1939. Maisky further exerted subtle pressure on Litvinov, seeking permission to maintain more frequent contact with the Foreign Office. To cover his tracks (and in order to vilify the British during the Cold War), in his memoirs Maisky chose to paint a highly dramatic narrative of his gallant stance during the meeting, which he even suggested took place with Chamberlain rather than with Halifax; VSD, p. 384 and Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 106–8.
Mere legalese: empty verbiage, which is impregnable to criticism. At the same time, there is a vague hint at something that nobody knows. This makes it possible to create in the minds of the uninitiated the impression that the Soviet government has given its blessing to the prime minister’s statement.
Chamberlain must need us very badly if he has to resort to the type of tricks I observed today…
Another curious detail. The original schedule for today was as follows: the Cabinet was to meet for the final approval of the text of the statement at 10 a.m., and at 11 a.m. the statement was to be read in parliament (since today is Friday, the House of Commons is in session from 11 to 4). However, as a result of yesterday’s visit of the Labour delegation to the PM, the schedule was changed slightly: the Cabinet meeting at 10.30, Halifax’s meeting with me between 12 and 1 to acquaint me with the text of the statement, and the reading of the statement in parliament at 3. And that’s exactly what happened.
[Rather than the Munich Agreement, Stalin’s ‘chestnuts’ speech or the dismissal of Litvinov, the guarantees given to Poland appear to have been the crucial event paving the way to the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, and the opening salvo of the Second World War. By guaranteeing Poland, Chamberlain to all intents and purposes abandoned Britain’s traditional position as arbiter in the European balance of power, and instead confronted Germany head on. The guarantees had two potential major effects. Beyond redressing the humiliation inflicted on him by Hitler’s brazen abrogation of the Munich Agreement, what was uppermost in Chamberlain’s mind was the deterrent effect: the


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guarantees (he hoped) would check Hitler and bring him back to the negotiating table. The second possible repercussion was overlooked by Chamberlain: if Hitler persevered with his territorial claims against Poland, the military axiom of avoiding war on two fronts would make it imperative for the Nazis to seek agreement with the Soviet Union. Consequently, the hitherto inaccessible German option suddenly opened up for the Soviet Union. Conversely, once it did dawn on Chamberlain that the path to a ‘second Munich’ was not plain sailing and that the possibility of war had become real, he would reluctantly be forced to secure at least a measure of Soviet military commitment, vital for the implementation of the guarantees. In this manner, and without prior design, the Soviet Union now became the pivot of the European balance of power.]
1 April
Yesterday, after the statement had been read in parliament, Chamberlain invited Lloyd George to his office to exchange views on international affairs. An unprecedented event, since Chamberlain and Lloyd George hate each other.
During their conversation, Lloyd George raised the issue, in the sharpest terms, of engaging the USSR in security guarantees in Europe. Chamberlain replied, as always, that he was only too willing to do so, but that Poland and Rumania were making things difficult. Lloyd George then asked: ‘But if the question of engaging the USSR is still hanging in the air, how could you risk giving Poland Great Britain’s unilateral guarantee? That’s damnably dangerous.’
Chamberlain parried Lloyd George’s remark by declaring that according to the information available to the government, Hitler would never risk a war on two fronts.
‘And where is your second front?’ Lloyd George snapped back.
‘Poland,’ answered Chamberlain.
Lloyd George roared with laughter and started mocking the prime minister: ‘Poland! A country with a weak economy and torn by internal strife, a country that has neither aviation nor a properly equipped army… And that’s your second front! What nonsense! There cannot be a second front without the USSR. A guarantee to Poland without the USSR is an irresponsible gamble that may end very badly for our country!’
Chamberlain did not have an answer.
Chamberlain’s circle found Maisky’s extra-parliamentary activities during the debate repulsive. ‘I saw [Churchill] with Lloyd George, Boothby and Randolph, in a triumphant huddle surrounding Maisky. Maisky, the Ambassador of torture, murder and every crime in the calendar’, recorded Sir Henry Channon in his diary; Rhodes, Chips, p. 192. Nicolson, who was also present, describes the meeting in detail in Nicolson, Diaries, p. 394. Lloyd George’s sardonic criticism of Chamberlain was ineffective. ‘As … I looked down at his red face and white hair,’ Chamberlain reported to his sister, ‘all my bitterness seemed to pass away for I despised him and felt myself the better man’; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 401, 1 April 1939.
6 April
Today I saw Halifax, who briefed me on the results of his talks with Beck. According to Halifax, the three days Beck spent in London have been very


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profitable. The main achievement is the bilateral agreement on mutual assistance against aggression which the prime minister announced in parliament today. In this way, the unilateral guarantee which Great Britain gave to Poland on 31 March is now transformed into a pact of mutual assistance between the two countries. Only an interim agreement in principle has been concluded for now, but later – the exact date cannot as yet be fixed – the agreement will be formalized as a special treaty.
Chamberlain felt in tune with Beck’s views on Europe. ‘He was very anxious not to be tied up with Russia … because of the effect on German opinion and policy’, he wrote to his sister. ‘I confess I very much agree with him for I regard Russia as a very unreliable friend with very little capacity for active assistance but with an enormous irritative power on others’; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 404, 9 April 1939. The agreement on mutual assistance was only signed on 25 August 1939.
One of the reasons for postponing the signing of the treaty is the need to resolve the matter of the forms and nature of the assistance which the USSR could and would wish to provide in the struggle against aggression. In this connection, Halifax asked me all of a sudden whether the USSR could, if necessary, undertake to supply Poland with arms and ammunition. I replied that I was not in a position to discuss the matter.
Then Halifax brought to my attention the last paragraph in the PM’s announcement and interpreted it to mean that the British government wished to retain the possibility of holding talks with the USSR.
In turn, I asked Halifax to clarify the expression ‘direct or indirect threat to independence’. What does the word ‘indirect’ mean? And who is to decide whether there is a threat or not? Each side on its own? Or both sides in joint consultation?
Halifax was unable to give clear-cut answers to my questions. But as far as I could understand him, each side would decide on its own whether there was a threat or not. As for ‘indirect’ threat, this concept would be subject to ‘classification’ in further negotiations.
On parting, Halifax expressed the ardent hope that he would be able to get away at Easter to his estate for five days. Just think: he has not been ‘home’ for a whole six weeks!
Will he leave? I don’t know. Dark clouds are gathering on the Albanian horizon.
[Maisky continued cautiously to challenge Moscow’s dithering. It was ‘extremely important,’ he nagged Litvinov, ‘to know which direction our work here should take’, particularly if the Western powers were to offer a pact of mutual assistance. He was, however, accused of having inadvertently become putty in the hands of Chamberlain and Vansittart. He was called to order and reminded of the Soviet ‘present and, possibly, also future restraint in respect of all sorts of English gestures’. To his ambassador in Berlin, Litvinov explained: ‘We know full well that it is impossible to restrain and halt aggression in Europe without us, and later our help will be sought, which will cost them dearer, and they will have to recompense us. That is why we remain so placid in the face of the tumult which has erupted around what is referred to as the change in British policy.’
AVP RF f.6 op.1 p.5 d.35 ll.76–8, Maisky to Litvinov, 24 March 1939; SPE, doc. 210, 4 April 1939; Litvinov to Merekalov, quoted in Dullin, Men of Influence, p. 268. As late as 11 April, Surits was instructed, in response to an overture made by Bonnet, to ‘sit tight’; Roberts, ‘The fall of Litvinov’, p. 648.


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Maisky, though, found it most difficult to follow his own counsel ‘to keep quiet, and not show any nervousness or impatience’. In the course of a conversation with Ewer of the Daily Herald on 4 April, he claimed to have had ‘a brain-wave’ which seemed ‘spontaneous and his own’. ‘Why,’ he asked the journalist, ‘did not His Majesty’s Government invite Litvinov to London?’ Maisky offered to convey such an invitation privately to Litvinov. He insisted, though, that in approaching the Foreign Office, Ewer should present the idea ‘as entirely his own and not coming from [Maisky] or after discussion with him’. Although the idea that ‘a lunch at Windsor to [sic] Litvinov would work wonders’ in repairing the wounded Russian amour propre, it was hoped that the government would ‘not allow Maisky’s fictitious grievances and Litvinov’s assumed sulks to push us into action against our better judgement’. ‘I regard association with the Soviet [sic],’ Cadogan sealed the debate in the Foreign Office, echoing Chamberlain, ‘as more of a liability than an asset.’
Sylvester papers, diary, A47, conversations with Maisky, 5 April 1939; TNA FO 371 23063 C5430/3356/18.
Cautiously steering a course through the rather schizophrenic Soviet policy, Maisky admitted to the Webbs that, like other Soviet diplomats, he had become increasingly isolated, hardly in touch with any of the leaders and ‘kept out of the Molotov–Stalin government circles’. He remained sceptical of Chamberlain, ‘essentially the same man he used to be’, whose new ‘gestures’ were a reluctant response to the public pressure concealing his cherished hope of ‘pushing Hitler in the direction of Soviet Ukraine’. He confided to the Webbs that Moscow ‘did not trust [Chamberlain] and it was doubtful whether they would join a pact if he remained Premier’. This, however, did not prevent him from trying further to convince Litvinov that the prime minister’s position was constantly challenged by the majority of the ‘politically minded people’ who had ‘regretfully’ arrived at the conclusion that the ‘Western direction’ of German aggression was the more likely one.
God Krizisa, I, no. 257, 9 April 1939; SPE, docs. 217 & 218; Webb, diary, 8 April 1939, p. 6640 (emphasis in original).
]
11 April
Halifax didn’t manage to get away to his estate after all! The Italians attacked Albania on the morning of the 7th, and as of today King Zog
Ahmet Muhtar Bey Zog I, king of Albania, 1928–39.
is already a refugee in exile.
I visited Halifax at his request.
Halifax summoned Maisky to ‘keep him in touch’, but deliberately concealed from him any details of the agreement being worked out with the Poles; TNA FO 371 23063 C5262/3356/18, 12 April 1939.
We talked at length about the spread of aggression in Europe and the need to take urgent measures against it. Halifax wanted to know whether we would agree to give Poland a guarantee in the forms that would make Soviet aid acceptable to Warsaw (arms, ammunition, aviation, etc., but not large land forces). I declined to give him a direct answer. Halifax further let me understand that the British government was preparing guarantees for Greece and possibly for Rumania, too. He tried to argue that Britain, like the USSR, was thinking about the organization of security all over Europe, only our methods were different: Britain wants to build security ‘from the bottom’, laying one brick on another, whereas the USSR wants European


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security to be built ‘from the top’ by setting up an all-embracing peace bloc. In Halifax’s view, the British path is more practicable.
I objected, arguing that aggression is like water: if you block it in one direction, it finds another. We should not split hairs and set about this like amateurs. We must stop the spread of aggression across Europe right away, and the only way of doing that is to form a ‘peace bloc’ around ‘the big troika’: Britain, France and the USSR. Our exchange came to nothing, of course, but I think I managed to put some useful ideas into Halifax’s head…


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Evidently not registered with Halifax, who did not feel that ‘any great progress’ had been made towards solving the real difficulties facing Britain; TNA FO 371 23065 C5068/3356/18.
[Litvinov was not impressed by Maisky’s telegram, which expanded on the last paragraph of this diary entry. He took the unreserved pledge to Poland to be an ‘unfriendly act’, which inadvertently strengthened Poland’s hand against the Soviet Union. He suspected that Britain sought from Russia ‘some sort of binding promise … without entering into any agreement … and without undertaking any commitments’. It was ‘intolerable’ for the Russians to be in the situation where a man ‘is invited to a party and then asked not to come because the other guests do not wish to meet him. We would prefer to be crossed off the guest list altogether.’ Litvinov further took a dim view of the line adopted by Maisky in his conversations with Halifax, which could have given the latter the false impression that the Soviet Union opposed ‘separate bipartite or tripartite agreements, and in general wanted to gain something from Britain’. He took the unusual step of submitting his response to Stalin for approval, adding that ‘Comrade Maisky should be instructed to assume a more reserved attitude in his conversations with representatives of the British government’. Maisky was accordingly reprimanded in harsh terms for indulging in criticism of British politics and for pursuing his own initiatives. He was ordered ‘to be guided by our direct instructions rather than by articles from our press’.
Litvinov to Surits and Maisky, God Krizisa, I, nos. 262, 263 & 264, 11 April 1939; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, docs. 216 & 217, Litvinov to Stalin and Maisky, 13 April 1939.
Seeds, the British ambassador in Moscow, ‘emphatically’ agreed with Maisky that some way should be found ‘to prevail’ on Poland and Rumania. He issued a prophetic warning that otherwise Russia could ‘quite properly be tempted to stand aloof in case of war and confine its advertised support of the victims of aggression to the profitable business of selling supplies to the latter’. He further foresaw the danger of Germany offering the Soviet Union ‘Bessarabia and parts of Poland not to mention perhaps Estonia and Latvia’.
Vansittart papers, VNST 3/2, Seeds to Halifax, 13 April 1939.
]
12 April
‘Lunch’ at Vansittart’s: Vansittart, his wife, Agniya and myself, and… Samuel Hoare, without his wife. Taking me aside, Vansittart let me know that Hoare had been ‘very reasonable’ lately and now shared nearly all Vansittart’s views, and that Hoare wanted to talk to me in private in order to find out whether it was possible to speed up Anglo-Soviet negotiations.
Indeed, after ‘lunch’ Hoare seated himself next to me and began an animated conversation about the necessity of Anglo-Soviet cooperation against Germany. Couldn’t we provide Poland with a unilateral guarantee? And the other limitrophe states?


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I replied to Hoare in much the same spirit as I did to Halifax yesterday.
14 April
Following instructions from Moscow, I went to see Halifax today. I referred to the interest he displayed in our previous talks about the forms of aid which the USSR could grant Poland and Rumania, and said that the Soviet government was in principle prepared to help Rumania, but that first it wished to hear the opinion of the British about the best way of organizing this assistance.
Halifax was very glad to hear this, but at the same time he was somewhat upset. It transpired that just before my visit he had finished writing instructions to Seeds. He advised Seeds to ask the Soviet government whether it would consent to give unilateral guarantees to Poland and Rumania, similar to the guarantees Britain and France had given to Rumania and Greece, on condition that the USSR would render assistance to Warsaw and Bucharest only at their request and in forms that had been agreed with them. Halifax thought that in this way it would be possible to avoid the difficulties that had sunk ‘the declaration of the four’. These instructions were meant to go out to Moscow that night. But what should he do now, on hearing my news? Send the instructions as they were, or not send them at all?
Halifax stopped talking and started thinking it over. At last he said: ‘Your communication does not contradict my instructions. Therefore I’ll send them as they are and add that I got your communication after the instructions had already been drawn up.’
Halifax expressed his hope that our reply to the British inquiry would come soon, by 17 April if possible. He wanted to know my opinion about the British proposal, but I evaded discussion of this topic.
In reply to my question, Halifax admitted that yesterday’s guarantee to Rumania was given mainly at France’s insistence. Nobody had expected it so soon.
I left Halifax and, at Vansittart’s request, went to see him in his office. Vansittart asserted that ‘real consultations’ were now beginning between London and Moscow.
On 15 April, referring to my talk with Halifax on 14 April, Seeds posed the following question from the British government to the Soviet government: is the Soviet government willing to make a public statement (perhaps repeating Stalin’s recent statement concerning the Soviet Union’s support to nation-victims of aggression and referring to the recent statements by the British and French governments) that in the event of an act of aggression against any European neighbour of the Soviet Union, if that country were to put up resistance it could rely on the Soviet Union’s assistance, if such were sought, and this assistance would be rendered in a way that would be found most suitable?
Yesterday I was in the House and listened to Chamberlain’s speech concerning guarantees to Greece and Rumania…
[Included in the diary is a clipping from The Times of 14 April quoting the British government’s extension to Greece and Rumania of the guarantees given to Poland.]
The guarantee to Greece was more or less predetermined and surprised nobody, but the guarantee to Rumania was indeed unexpected. Shortly before the session, I asked Tilea how matters stood with the guarantee to Rumania.
‘I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard that the British government has decided to give a guarantee to my country as well today. The French are insisting on it greatly. We’ll learn the truth in a few minutes.’
I don’t know whether Tilea was telling me the truth or whether he was hiding some information from me, but nevertheless his words struck me as the first faint signal that yesterday the Rumanian issue had perhaps been resolved.
[Halifax proposed that the Soviet government should make a ‘unilateral public declaration on its own initiative’, to be carefully hedged around by such qualifications as ‘that in the event of any aggression against any European neighbour of the Soviet Union which was resisted by the country concerned, the assistance of the Soviet Government would be available, if desired, and would be afforded in such manner as would be found most convenient’. A ‘positive declaration’ by the Soviet government, Halifax believed, ‘would have a steadying effect upon the international situation’. This idea of a ‘steadying effect’ reflected the deterrent element in British policy, which always sought reconciliation.


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Litvinov, as Seeds reported home, objected to the fact that a unilateral declaration would bind the Soviet government without binding anyone else. The British ambassador tried in vain to convince him that the British government was already ‘committed up to the hilt’, and that a unilateral declaration perfectly befitted the position of the Soviet Union as a great power. In Paris, Bonnet proposed to Surits that their two countries should bolster their mutual assistance treaty of 1935. Still attuned to Litvinov’s earlier disparaging comments, Surits mocked Bonnet and misrepresented the proposal in his report home.
The British and Soviet reports are in TNA, FO 371 23063 C5281/3356/18 and DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 221; also DDF, 2 Serie, XV, Doc. 414, memorandum by Corbin; see also Harvey, Diplomatic Diaries of Oliver Harvey, p. 280. Emphasis added.
]
15 April
Yesterday, late at night, I received the order to proceed immediately to Moscow for consultations on Anglo-Soviet negotiations. Very good. This will significantly clarify to me the tasks ahead.
Today is Saturday, so it will be impossible to complete all the formalities before Monday, the 17th. I’ll leave on the 18th. To save time, I’ll fly to Helsinki via Stockholm, and from there I’ll take a train for Moscow via Leningrad. I’ve


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never flown before. Let’s try. It’s high time I got used to the most modern means of transport.
16 April
Visited the Hudsons in the country with Agniya. A big, ancient, ice-cold mansion in Kent. Portraits of remote ancestors, the staircase, the fireplaces, the servants in tails and livery. Goodness! Makes one’s blood curdle. But the park and the field around the house are magnificent.
By and large, the Hudsons are pleased with their trip to Moscow, especially Mrs Hudson. And so she should be: she received six silver fox furs and two blue Arctic fox furs as a gift from ‘Mikoyan’s wife’. The hosts in Sweden and Finland made do with ‘sweets and flowers’. The comparison is obviously in our favour. To give Mrs Hudson her due, she saw a great deal in Moscow (schools, clubs, museums, etc.), and she was pleasantly impressed by her trip.
Hudson himself is in a more critical mood. The only thing he liked wholeheartedly in Moscow was the theatre. He had seen nothing to compare to it anywhere in the world. But he has reservations about everything else. He does not like the isolation of the British embassy in Moscow. He does not like the status of the British army, navy and air attachés – they are shown nothing and are generally ill-treated. Nor is Hudson entirely satisfied with the trade negotiations: we don’t want to buy consumer goods in England!
But Hudson still pins considerable hopes on trade. He envisages future developments as follows. In early June, when he returns from his trip to America, a Soviet delegation headed by Mikoyan (whom he liked very much) should arrive in London. Mikoyan will spend a week or so in Britain, and the British government will welcome him with great pomp. Then, after Mikoyan’s departure, the delegation will get down to practical work.
What ought to be the aim of this work? In Hudson’s view, the current interim trade agreement should be replaced with a permanent trade treaty. Old claims could be cancelled by abandoning them on a mutual basis, which would leave 6 million pounds kept with Baring in the hands of the English. The Soviet government could add another 2 million (‘Don’t count on it!’ I butted in) and then everything would be all right. The English are determined to raise in a forceful manner questions of arbitration, British tonnage, the expenditure of 50–60% of our takings on British industrial products, the facilitation of English industrialists’ visits to Moscow, etc. Hudson is satisfied with Mikoyan’s promise to buy yarn and herring in England, but when speaking about this he somehow ‘forgot’ to mention the condition specified by Mikoyan: long-term and soft credits.
In the final analysis, Hudson’s project looks somewhat absurd: talks on a trade treaty are to be conducted in London, but, for some reason, concluded in Moscow! To this end, the English would be prepared to send a special delegation to Moscow.


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I was left with the general impression that Hudson has not thought out a plan of action as yet and, most importantly, has not found the time for thorough consultation with his permanent officials.
***
Far more interesting was my conversation with Elliot, whom I met at Hudson’s. He pulled me aside and, strolling with me in the park, disclosed a good deal of intriguing information.
I asked Elliot: ‘The British government seems to be changing tack in its foreign policy – is this a serious change or not?’
Elliot firmly assured me that it was most serious. In this connection he cited a relevant fact. Simon’s speech, during the parliamentary debates of 13 April, included the following statement: ‘Although I cannot say that the USSR has been approached with such a proposal (for a military alliance), the House may rest assured that the government does not have any objections of principle to a proposal of this kind.’
Well, this phrase was not some one-off, uttered by Simon in the heat of argument. This part of his speech was carefully written and edited beforehand by the FO.


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Yes, said Elliot, the turn in English policy is serious. The desire to cooperate with the USSR is entirely sincere. As was rightly stated in the communiqué issued four years ago during Eden’s visit to Moscow, Britain and the USSR have no conflicting interests in any part of the world. In our days this seems almost miraculous, yet it is undeniably so. At the same time, there exists a common danger and a common desire to support peace. It is on this basis that cooperation between the two countries should develop. The moment has come to reap the harvest. Elliot fully understands the reasons for our mistrust: the peace bloc against aggression is being created by the same people who have hitherto pursued the policy of ‘appeasement’. Our scepticism is justified. But we must have patience. Time will show how serious the British government’s intentions are.
Chamberlain? A strange figure! Until now he has placed sincere faith in Hitler, thinking he had only one goal in mind: to unite all Germans within a single state. Prague was a terrible catastrophe for Chamberlain, both politically and psychologically. The PM is certainly undergoing a profound change in his outlook, but this change is not yet complete. Echoes of the past still linger – for instance, in Chamberlain’s attitude to Italy. He is grossly disappointed in Hitler, but he still retains some trust in Mussolini. This will eventually pass, too.
Chamberlain understands that cooperation between Britain and the USSR is inevitable. He is moving in this direction, but at a slow and faltering pace. It is not easy for him to make this change. At present, the prime minister has two gnawing doubts: (1) Is the Red Army effective? Like a true merchant he wants to try the goods before he buys them. (2) What are the true intentions of the USSR? Doesn’t the USSR plan to cause war in the west, pushing Britain and France into a clash with Germany for its own gain?
I couldn’t help laughing. Chamberlain fears that the USSR might push Hitler westward! It’s the right equation, but the wrong way round.
This redeeming picture of Chamberlain is hardly borne out by the prime minister’s own admission, in a letter to his sister, ‘of being deeply suspicious of [Russia] … Her efforts are devoted to egging on others but herself promising only vague assistance … Our problem therefore is to keep Russia in the background without antagonising her’; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 412, 29 April 1939.
[Maisky’s dogged determination to open an active dialogue with the British finally resonated with Litvinov, who now urged Stalin to abandon the reactive attitude and ‘reveal a number of our preferred options’. He strongly recommended making a proposal to London whereby the unilateral guarantees would be replaced by a full-blown binding triple pact, backed by a simultaneous military agreement. Hoping to maintain control over the conduct of Soviet foreign policy, fast slipping out of his hands, Litvinov attempted in vain to shield Maisky and prevent his recall, arguing that conducting negotiations exclusively through the British ambassador in Moscow was detrimental to Soviet interests. It was vital to monitor public opinion in England and continuously ‘influence it’. Were Maisky to leave London, warned Litvinov, the embassy would ‘cease to function, for there is no one who could conduct serious diplomatic negotiations or whom the English would take notice of’.


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Although Litvinov’s proposals were contested and heavily revised by Stalin and Molotov, they were promptly submitted to the British on 17 April.
DVP, 1939, XXII/2, docs. 277 & 283, 15 & 17 April. On Maisky’s influence on the shift in Litvinov’s attitude, see Resis, ‘The fall of Litvinov’; Pons, The Inevitable War, ch. 5; Roberts, ‘The fall of Litvinov’, pp. 648–9.
Surits (who had been invited to Moscow as well) did not arrive. Ostensibly this was because the absence of the French ambassador from Moscow might have hindered any progress in the negotiations; but in fact Potemkin, who had served with Surits, had warned him in a handwritten message to be vigilant, as ‘the slightest lapse is not only recorded but also provokes a swift and violent reaction’. He advised Surits to remain in Paris and to send Krapivintsev,
Pavel Nikolaevich Krapivintsev, counsellor to the Soviet mission in France, 1938–34, after which employment with NKID terminated.
his counsellor, instead.
Quoted in Dullin, Men of Influence, p. 216.
Indeed, Merekalov, the third ambassador recalled for the meeting, never returned to Berlin and was banished from Narkomindel.]
17 April
The press has already made a first-class sensation out of my trip to Moscow, and today all the papers have been ringing the embassy non-stop to find out the particulars and to learn when I’m leaving and from which station. So far we have managed to keep everything secret.
The day was spent in the usual bustle before any trip. I paid a short call on Cadogan to settle a minor routine matter and to inform him of my departure. I could hardly disappear without warning when difficult diplomatic negotiations were in full swing. Then I attended a bankers’ lunch, which was arranged by Brendan Bracken,
Brendan Rendall Bracken, editor of The Banker, chairman of the Financial News, and managing director of The Economist; parliamentary private secretary to the prime minister, 1940–44; minister of information, 1941–45.
editor of Financial News, and attended by Anselm Rothschild, the heads of Lloyds Bank, and others. Then I had a talk with our staff.
At around eleven at night, Sir Walter Layton, editor of the News Chronicle, suddenly called. He apologized for disturbing me at such a late hour and asked if he could visit right away, as he simply had to see me before my departure. He arrived at 11.30. He immediately directed the conversation to the current state of Anglo-Soviet relations. He insisted that public opinion in England had undergone radical change in the last four or five weeks, that England had taken a new course in earnest and for the long term, and that she sincerely wanted to repel aggression, and to achieve agreement and cooperation with the USSR. It was evident from the tone and nature of Layton’s speech that he was paying me this late visit not on his own initiative, but on somebody’s instructions… Whose? I can’t say with any certainty, but it’s possible that he acted on the instructions of the PM, for I know that Layton has access to Chamberlain and that during the September crisis Chamberlain personally ‘briefed’ Layton more than once.
The British government seems greatly concerned about my being summoned to Moscow and wants to convince me before I leave, and the Soviet government


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through me, of its sincere wish to work together with us on the establishment of a peace front.
[In the few days left before his departure for Moscow, Maisky toiled day and night to lay his safety net. With the memory of his grim experiences in Moscow in summer 1938 still fresh in his mind, he ensured that the editors of the leading newspapers were familiarized with his itinerary and informed them that they should expect to ‘see him again in a few days’. He further deposited with them a long statement condemning the ‘spasmodic patch-up scheme’ of the guarantees to Poland and the misleading references to ‘contacts’, ‘close touch’ and ‘consultations’ which concealed the absence of ‘real collaboration between West and East’ in establishing collective security. The statement ended with an ominous warning that while the Soviet Union was in the best position simply ‘to watch calmly’ the European scene, she was prepared to pursue genuine collaboration, but not ‘to be used as a smoke screen for dubious designs … or pull chestnuts out of the fire for [the French and British] benefit’. Maisky squeezed a succession of dinners, tea parties, press conferences and meetings into two days, in order to generate a positive response to the Soviet proposals. Whistling in the dark, he tried hard to convince the Webbs that he was ‘one of the few diplomats who is not on tenterhooks about his own continued future’; but his fear for his life was obvious when he added that he ‘envied [them] living among books – he longed for a restful life’. The reason for his recall, he explained to them, was to give Stalin ‘an impression of the sentiment in London’ which might help to dispel his suspicion that there was ‘a nigger in the wood-pile’. He repeated to Moscow a flattering comment made to him by Dalton: ‘You will be able to boast, when you get to Moscow, of the resounding success of your diplomatic mission in London.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1260 & op.3 d.116 l.4, Boothby to Maisky and statement, 16 & 17 April; R.R. James, Bob Boothby: A portrait (London, 1991), p. 195; Pimlott, Political Diary of Hugh Dalton, pp. 259–60; Webb, diary, 8 April, p. 6640; Liverpool Post, 18 April; New York Times, 19 April; The Times, 19 April 1939.
]
18 April
Yesterday M.M. handed Seeds our reply to the British proposal of 14 April. Here is the essence of our reply.
Following the British inquiry about the Soviet government’s readiness to render assistance to our immediate European neighbours in the face of aggression, Moscow received a French proposal to enter into bilateral commitments for mutual military assistance against aggressors. Accepting the French proposal in principle and following its spirit, as well as wishing to lay a firm foundation for relations between the three states, the Soviet government seeks to combine the British and French proposals in the following points offered for consideration by the British and French governments:
(1) The USSR, France and Britain sign an agreement for a term of 5 to 10 years, mutually committing themselves to provide immediate assistance in all forms, including military aid, in the event of aggression in Europe against one of the three contracting states.


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(2) The USSR, France and Britain undertake to provide every kind of assistance, including military aid, to the Eastern European states located between the Baltic and Black seas and bordering on the USSR in the event of aggression against these states.
(3) The USSR, France and Britain shall, at the earliest possible date, discuss and establish the forms and extent of military aid to be rendered by each of the said states in compliance with Paras. 1 and 2.
(4) The British government makes it clear that the aid which it promises to Poland stands solely in the event of Germany’s aggression.
(5) The Polish–Rumanian military pact is either entirely cancelled or declared valid in the event of any aggression against Poland or Rumania.
(6) The USSR, France and Britain commit themselves, after hostilities commence, not to enter into any separate negotiations or to sign a separate peace treaty with the aggressors.
(7) The joint three-power agreement is to be signed concurrently with the military convention stipulated in Para. 3.
(8) All three powers enter into negotiations with Turkey about a special agreement for mutual assistance.
A step of vast significance! Now the general line is clear.
28 April
The ten days that have passed since my last entry seem almost like a fairy-tale to me now… So, at about a quarter past nine on the morning of 18 April I took the plane from Croydon. I’m proud of myself: I managed to outwit the reporters, and there was not a single representative of the press at the aerodrome! The only people to accompany me were Agniya, Korzh,
Mikhail Vasilevich Korzh, first secretary of the Soviet embassy in Great Britain, 1937–42.
Popov
I.S. Popov, second secretary of the Soviet embassy in Great Britain, 1941.
and one or two others from the embassy staff. I boarded the plane with my chin held high but, I admit, not without some anxiety in my heart: what if I turned out to be a bad flier after all? The last farewells… The last blown kisses… The last fussing of the service personnel… The propeller starts its noisy whirring, and the huge Douglas, capable of carrying 21 passengers, sets off heavily down the runway… Then it suddenly detaches itself from the ground and begins its climb… A green field, hangars, little houses with red roofs – everything starts to fall away rapidly and unexpectedly… deeper and deeper… And already the plane is at an altitude of 500 metres and, as if straightening out, is heading smoothly and powerfully in a south-easterly direction.
I try to sort out my feelings… Well, everything seems just fine!… No giddiness, no sickness. It’s all a bit strange, a bit unusual, but not bad. Just fine.


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Let’s see what happens next. I glue my face to the window and fasten my gaze on the scene opening before me.
The plane is climbing gradually and steadily. The altimeter is already showing 1,500 metres. We’re flying over the clouds. Beneath, it seems, is a field of white, curly cotton wool. Farther in the distance there are white cotton cliffs, hills, mountains. They look dense and firm, like snow or ice-floes. The illusion is so great that you feel like jumping out of the plane and walking on the white blanket. Now that would be fun and bracing. Like throwing snowballs in a Siberian glade on a freezing day…
Suddenly, in this endless field of cotton wool I see a black hole: I look into it and somewhere far below is a blue sea all covered with scraps of something white…What could it be? It takes a long while for the penny to drop: why, of course, these are the foamy crests of waves!
Which means we’re already flying over the North Sea. Obeying some conditioned reflex, I cast around for cork lifebelts, before I suddenly realize: what’s the use of them? If something happens to the plane, cork lifebelts won’t help. You’ll die while you’re still in the air or when the plane hits the surface of the sea. So let’s hope the American engines are in good order and let’s also rely on good luck.
The plane is flying fairly smoothly and calmly. The two propellers are rotating so fast you can’t see them. The engines drone, but the noise is tolerable. One can talk easily in the cabin. The steady drone of the engines reminds me of the sound of the printing-press behind the wall of the proof-reading room where I once worked at the Saratovsky dnevnik. On the whole, then, it’s all right!
Suddenly, the huge steel body of the plane shudders several times. Its long powerful wings bank sharply now left, now right. The shaking is so strong that the passengers jump in their seats and grab feverishly at their seat belts. Thick white fog on both sides of the plane. Nothing to be seen through the windows. We’re in the clouds. The pilot gains height again. The pointer on the altimeter is spinning round… Upwards and upwards… Two and a half thousand metres already… The fog has vanished, we’re out of the clouds… Above us only the bright but somewhat cold sun and the endless blue sky. Below us once again the mighty fields of white, curly cotton wool, and upon them, like an evil bird of prey, the speeding shadow of our plane, black and shaped like a cross… What beauty!
No, I’m not such a bad flier at all! It’s all gone perfectly well so far. I’m either looking out the window or reading Pearl Buck’s novel The Patriot, which I took for the journey…
Amsterdam. The first stop. I take the cotton plugs out of my ears, step down on the tarmac feeling slightly ecstatic from the discovery that I’m not a bad flier,


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and send Agniya a telegram: ‘Flying well’. Let her feel happy, too. Then I go to the coffee bar, where I have a talk with the airport manager. It turns out that the daily traffic at Amsterdam airport is 60 planes of all nationalities (English, French, Dutch, German and others). Croydon’s traffic is about 100 planes daily. Because of the delay of the Paris plane, which had to struggle with a strong headwind, our plane leaves Amsterdam after not 20 minutes (as scheduled) but 40. It gains altitude fast and is soon gliding quickly over the city. How tiny, toy-like the houses beneath us look now! How narrow are the streets, with little black insects running busily along them! Further on is the port with the toy-like steamers, a blue blanket of seawater, some islands, some canals… The plane climbs higher and higher, and soon we’re above the clouds. The same white cotton wool field beneath and the bright shining sun above. I look through the window, listen to the drone of the engines, and think. Then I pick up The Patriot and start reading…
I don’t know how much time has passed. I glance down. The picture has changed. The plane is flying relatively low, at 500 or 600 metres. A good view of the sea: grey-blue, calm, as if asleep, probably not very deep because here and there the water takes on a yellowish grey colour… Numerous Danish islands – big, medium, small and tiny – are clearly visible. They are all flat, yellow, monotonous, and cultivated to the limit. Every patch of land is used. Everywhere there are tiny houses, fields, railway stations, roads, canals, bays and bridges. Everywhere there are people. And everywhere there are cattle. The basic colour is yellowish green. Quite unlike Holland. There, as you fly in to Amsterdam, you see beneath you a kind of brightly coloured woven carpet, made of fields of flowers – blue, lilac, red, yellow, etc. – which constitute one of the major items of Dutch export. Here, in Denmark, you sense agriculture, cattle, crops, bacon and many other very useful and purely material products.
Copenhagen. A twenty-minute stop. A swarm of reporters and photographers, poisoning my life. Sweden. The plane climbs higher and higher. It turns cold in the cabin. The clouds are beneath us, but the weather is fine and the earth is visible even from a height of three and a half thousand metres. The Swedish land is a great contrast to the Danish. Less cultivation, less human activity, and much more wildness and primitive nature. Mountains, rocks, forests, marshes, lakes. Occasional small towns, occasional cultivated plots with little houses and paths. Well, an emergency landing in Sweden would be no good – almost certain death. The further north, the wilder…
Stockholm. Instead of arriving at four, we arrive at about five. After turning smartly, the plane touches the land lightly and races for a good while along the well-paved but rather dangerous airfield. Dangerous, because there is a high and dark rock standing in its very centre. The plane skirts round it. The rapid change of altitude causes pain in the ears and a rush of blood. But this passes


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quite quickly. An uncomfortable sensation remains in the ears and the head, but then that also disappears.
A.M. [Kollontay] and the first secretary meet me at the aerodrome. Another swarm of photographers and reporters. We get into a car and drive to the embassy…
I make a telephone call to London to tell Agniya about my safe arrival and my victory over the airways.
***
I spent the night in Stockholm and at 9 a.m. on the 19th flew out to Helsingfors. This time the plane was smaller and somewhat simpler, with only 14 passenger seats, and bore the name ‘Kalevala’. It belonged to a Finnish air company. We crossed the Baltic Sea with such speed that I barely managed to notice it. We flew over the Äland archipelago as well: from above, the islands looked like flat cakes of grey stone. As if some gigantic hand had splashed cake mixture on the sea surface, the mixture had set and was swimming in the water. It was a fine day. The sun stood high in the sky. We were flying at an altitude of about 400–500 metres above sea level. We made a stop at Abo. No photographers, only reporters. The flight from Abo to Helsingfors takes a little less than an hour. A beautiful panorama opened up of the ‘thousand lakes’, many of which were still covered with ice. At 11.30 we landed at Helsingfors airport. The whole flight had been a success. Even better than the previous day. I was met by Derevyansky,
Vladimir Konstantinovich Derevyansky, an electrical engineer and devout Bolshevik, he was recruited to the diplomatic service, but after serving as ambassador in Helsinki, 1938–39, and in Latvia, April–October 1940, he sank into oblivion.
Yartsev
Boris Yartsev, second secretary at the Soviet embassy in Helsinki, serving with his wife as covert agents of the GPU.
and others from the embassy and the trade mission.
We drove through the town’s familiar streets. Nothing had changed. As if I had left Helsingfors only yesterday, not six years ago. Here was the pale-pink, five-storey building on the corner. We entered the porch, walked down the corridors and took the elevator to the flat I remembered so well. A few trifling changes had been made, but nothing much on the whole. The same furniture, the same clock melodically striking the hours on the wall, the same arrangement of the rooms, and the same wonderful view of the bay, the sea, and deep-blue Rensher in the distance… Even old Annushka came to see me. She is now a cook in the embassy kitchen.
The hours before evening flew by. Journalists besieged me, of course, eager to find out what ‘proposals’ I was bringing along with me. I brushed them off with a laugh: ‘my pockets are empty’. This only made the reporting brethren even more curious. I didn’t pay visits to any of the ministers. Just sent my visiting cards. Then I wandered about the city and bought a few things. I took the train


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from Helsingfors at 11.20 at night. The train was just the same as before. I slept like a baby and in the morning stepped off in Rajajoki to stretch my legs and have a drink. Here, too, nothing had changed. We crossed the Sestra River… My native land! Beloostrov! I drew a deep breath and listened to my inner voice: yes, the air was different! Strong, bracing, resonant and above all ours!…
I walked along the station with a proprietorial feeling. After all, it was thanks to me that such an imposing, solid stone building appeared here at Beloostrov station! How much blood, how much effort and labour was required to persuade the top railway authorities of the need to construct a decent station building in Beloostrov to replace the shabby, yellow, one-storey wooden barn left over from tsarist days! But the station was not in the best shape. The plaster had peeled off, the doors were cracked in many places, the refreshment bar was empty, and the lavatories were dirty and stinking. I made a mental note of all this and more, put it down in writing and then took the necessary steps in Leningrad and Moscow to bring it to the notice of L.M. Kaganovich
Lazar Moiseevich Kaganovich, a member of Stalin’s inner court, he was people’s commissar of transport, 1935–44, and of heavy industry, 1937–39; deputy chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars, 1938–44 and 1944–47; member of the State Defence Committee, 1942–45.
himself.


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In Leningrad I was met by A.V. Burdukov.
Alexei Vasilevich Burdukov, Soviet explorer of Mongolia; member of the Russian Geographical Society from 1927; arrested in 1941, he died in the camps.
Natasha
Maisky’s daughter.
had been hospitalized with pneumonia. That was an unpleasant surprise for me. I saw my grandson – a wonderful little boy with blue eyes and fair hair. His favourite amusement is to take a toy and hurl it on the floor. I visited Natasha in the hospital and left for Moscow in the evening.
I spent four days in Moscow (my bosses did not allow me more), which passed like a kind of dream. I stayed in Hotel Moskva. For 47 roubles a day I had a fairly decent room on the third floor with a bathroom, but, alas, the bathtub was in such a state that I had no desire to use it. I saw a great many people, attended various meetings concerning Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations, dropped in to my apartment, chatted with my relatives, and… failed to visit the theatre even once. There just wasn’t enough time.
On 24 April I took the Krasnaya strela back to Leningrad and spent half a day there. I visited Natasha in hospital, played with my grandson, and talked with A.V. I also saw some Leningrad officials. At 6.25 p.m. I left for Helsingfors. In Beloostrov I noticed that my conversations in Leningrad and Moscow had already had an effect. The choice of dishes at the refreshment bar was much better now. It turned out that some Leningrad bosses had been here after me and had given the barmaid a dressing-down for complaining to me. Nonetheless, they had advanced her a thousand roubles to buy foodstuffs and even raised her salary. Not bad! The chief of the frontier post told me they were expecting a special commission to come to Beloostrov in a day or two to see what was needed to put the station in order. Well, that’s something, too!
After Rajajoki, I slept all the way to Helsingfors. Derevyansky and Yartsev met me at the station again. This time I couldn’t avoid meeting the Finnish ministers. Erkko
Juho Eljas Erkko, Finnish foreign minister, 1938–39; ambassador to Sweden, 1939–40.
expressly asked me through Derevyansky to pay him a visit, and it would have been inappropriate to decline. So here I was again in the very familiar building of the Foreign Ministry, sitting in the very familiar office of the foreign minister in a very familiar armchair.


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Erkko complained about our long silence in reply to the Finnish note concerning the Äland question, lavished assurances of friendly feelings toward the USSR, and hinted that the Finnish government would be ready to give us Lavansaari, Seiskari and other islands (which Shtein had just been negotiating about here, with no success as yet) should we offer more rewarding compensation. Then Erkko started asking me about England’s thinking. It so happened that, on the day of my arrival in Helsingfors, the newspapers wrote that Ribbentrop ‘could not find time’ to receive Nevile Henderson, who had just returned to Berlin.


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‘What’s happened to the notorious pride of the British?’ Erkko exclaimed, somewhat puzzled.
Then we talked about the plans for a tripartite pact and I asked Erkko about Finland’s attitude to a ‘peace front’.
‘We would gladly join a “peace front”,’ said Erkko, ‘but where is it, this “peace front”?’
With total frankness, Erkko explained that as long as the said ‘peace front’ remained nothing but a dream, a project, an unrealized plan, Finland could not take any risks. It cannot disclose its approval of such a ‘front’ because the Germans move ‘fast and decisively’.
At 5.30 I flew out of Helsingfors and at 8 p.m. I was already sitting in A.M. [Kollontay]’s cosy flat in Stockholm. It was a smooth flight, in spite of a very dense fog over the Baltic Sea.
At 9 a.m. on the 27th I left Stockholm and landed safely in Paris at four in the afternoon. There was only one stop in Copenhagen, where I was totally besieged by photographers and reporters, who would later spread absurd canards all over the world. I spent the entire evening talking with Surits. Afterwards we strolled for hours around the old quarters of Paris, and Ya.Z. [Surits] related to me, with love and considerable knowledge, the history of many buildings associated with the events of 1789–93. He spoke engagingly and with real feeling.
Today, at 10.30 a.m., I left Paris by train for Boulogne–Folkestone and arrived in London at about five in the afternoon, without particular incident.
I’m back home. It seems I never left.
***
[In a handwritten attachment to the entry of 28 April, unfortunately undated, abbreviated and partly indecipherable, Maisky scribbled a rough outline of what seems to have been Stalin’s directives to him while in Moscow.]
(1) A bloc is desirable. (2) Not less than five years. A more precise definition of aggression (not only aggression but a threat of aggression as well). Or the En[glish] form[ula] (direct or in[direct] threat to independence + integrity). Employing all forces and means. (3) Aggression as understood by the parties to the agreement (even if the victim did not fight back). The Baltic [states], Rumania. Status Quo ante The F[ar] East. List of countries. Lithuania. Holland. Belgium. Direct or indirect threat to independence and integrity.


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(4) Integral assistance. Air pact… Armed forces on foreign territory. Fleet in the Baltic Sea. F[inland] or [missing text] (joint action). Conscription.
(5) Must be ensured that P[oland]–R[umania] are not against… P[oland] must consent to the participation of [the] S[oviet Union]. (6) Dobrudja… (7) No separate negotiations once an agreement is reached. (8) Simultaneous pol[itical] and mil[itary] [agreement]. (9) T. [not clear who] does not lay claim to the defence of P[oland] and Fr[ance]. Potemkin (10) Instructions to the press. Journal de Moscou – a Russian organ. (11) Personal.
[‘The unforgettable meeting in Moscow’ on 21 April is summed up in the diary in a single, rather muted paragraph. The meeting took place in the early afternoon (a most unusual time for Stalin, who preferred nocturnal sessions) and lasted for more than three and a half hours. Molotov, Mikoyan, Kaganovich and Voroshilov – the entire Politburo chetverka in charge of foreign affairs – were present, as were Litvinov and Potemkin. Krapivintsev, the counsellor at the Paris embassy, had a forty-minute meeting with Stalin on his own at noon, during which he undoubtedly conveyed a rather gloomy picture of the total subservience of the French to the British.
At the end of a thorough debriefing on the general mood in Britain, the political perspectives, and the balance between the supporters and opponents of a pact, Maisky was asked to evaluate the prospects for a positive response to the Soviet proposals.
Maisky, Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 120–1; A.V. Korotkov and A.A. Chernobaev (eds), ‘Posetiteli kabineta Stalina: 1938–1939’, Istoricheskii Arkhiv, 5–6 (1996); see SPE, doc. 249, Maisky’s conversation with Surits, and Litvinov to Surits, 23 April 1939.
His succinct account in his memoirs fails to convey how shocking it was for him to observe for the first time the relationship between Litvinov, Stalin and Molotov – ‘strained to the extreme’. When later Beatrice Webb asked Maisky about the encounter with Stalin, she gathered from ‘his sullen expression and monosyllabic reply’ that he had ‘no particular liking for the idolised leader of the masses’.
Webb, diary, 12 June 1939, p. 6665.
Maisky found the mood in Moscow to be ‘disturbingly troubled’ by news that Hitler was seriously preparing for war. Stalin, who outwardly looked calm, was ‘manifestly dissatisfied with England’ for having left the Soviet proposal ‘hanging in the air’.
Sheinis, Litvinov, p. 294; Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 431–2.
Molotov apparently ‘turned out violent, colliding with Litvinov incessantly, accusing him of every kind of mortal sin’. The two were to clash again in 1942, in the back of a car during Molotov’s visit to Washington, where Litvinov was ambassador. Gromyko,
Andrei Andreevich Gromyko, counsellor at the Soviet embassy in the USA, 1939–43, then ambassador, 1943–46.
who was also present on that occasion, was struck


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by Litvinov’s continued challenge of ‘the official party line’. He maintained that the alternative of negotiations with the West should not have been abandoned.
Gromyko, Memoirs, p. 312.
The prevalent concern, which – judging by his memoirs and diary – Maisky obviously failed to allay, was that ‘there might be a plot in London or Paris to involve Moscow in a war and then leave her in the lurch’.
Dalton papers, diary, I/20, quoting Maisky from their meeting on 7 May 1939.
Nor does Maisky mention either Molotov’s insistence that alternative options, including an improvement in relations with Germany, should be considered, or Litvinov’s apparent dramatic offer of resignation, which was rejected (for the moment) by Stalin. Since 1934, Molotov had consistently given collective security a lukewarm reception, and he was behind the various attempts to reopen negotiations with Berlin.
D. Watson, Molotov: A biography (London, 2005), pp. 148–53.
In his memoirs, Maisky’s fleeting account of the meeting conceals the fact that once he had acquainted himself with the prevailing mood in the Kremlin, his optimistic outlook on the eve of his departure for Moscow gave way to a ‘not very consoling’ report. This turned out to be an alarming prognosis of the prospects for negotiations between Germany and the appeasers, and obviously heightened Stalin’s obsessive concern about a possible ‘Danzig agreement’, which would give Germany a free hand in the east. Maisky’s report contrasted sharply with Litvinov’s refusal to subscribe to the view that England and France were diligently trying to embroil Germany in war with the Soviet Union – a position which contributed to his downfall a fortnight later.
On this, see Gromyko, Pamyatnoe, II, p. 423.
Maisky’s survey at the Kremlin was hardly motivated by sincerity (as he claims), but rather by a quite understandable instinct for survival and by opportunism. It had the unintended consequence of compromising Litvinov. When Dalton met Maisky in his study on 7 May, he was careful not to mention Litvinov or to ask whether it was true ‘that M. has for some while been undermining him at the Kremlin and that his last visit to Moscow was the final blow’. Dalton was struck by the fact that Molotov’s portrait had already replaced Litvinov’s, and that when he suggested Molotov had little experience of foreign policy, Maisky dismissed this out of hand, proclaiming that he had ‘shrewd practical views of foreign policy’. He insisted that ‘always when Soviet Ambassadors abroad went back to Moscow they went to see [Molotov] and had long talks with him’. Dalton concluded: ‘I thought: “Yes, you little monkey, and you went and told him that Litvinov was no good.”’
Maisky, Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 120–1; Dalton papers, diary, I/20, 7 May 1939. According to Sheinis, Litvinov, p. 294, Maisky left for London ‘with a sense of dismay at having let Litvinov down’, an impression shared by McDonald, A Man of the Times, p. 63.
Maisky’s report certainly encouraged Stalin to probe further into the German option with Merekalov, who was now hastily summoned to the Kremlin for the last hour of the meeting. After the customary exchange of greetings, Stalin asked Merekalov point blank: ‘Will the Germans advance on us or won’t they?’ In his incomplete memoirs, Merekalov (like Maisky) misleads his readers into believing that, regardless of what Stalin expected to hear, he took the ‘bold step’ of telling the vozhd that Hitler was bent on attacking the Soviet Union, probably in 1942–43. In reality, still under the impression of a meeting he had had on 17 April with Ernst von Weizsäcker,
Ernst Freiherr von Weizsäcker served as state secretary at the German Foreign Ministry from 1938 to 1943.
the German state secretary (who sought to reconcile Moscow), Merekalov actually proceeded to linger on the prospects for at least a short-term rapprochement with Germany, for which – for as long as she was preoccupied with France and Poland – the neutrality of the Soviet Union was indispensable. Merekalov had been personally appointed to Berlin by Stalin as his loyal


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watchdog a year earlier. A mediocre and unsophisticated diplomat, with rudimentary German, he was no longer allowed to return to Germany, though he was kept under surveillance to make sure he did not ‘spill the beans’. Astakhov, his highly competent attaché, who was himself under advanced investigation by the NKVD, was entrusted with the next delicate diplomatic game about to be played. Though Maisky hailed Stalin for his decision to give the negotiations with the West another chance, he was left in no doubt that the talks were ‘on probation’ and were to be based firmly on the Soviet proposal.
Fragments of Merekalov’s unpublished memoirs appeared in his ‘Missiya polpreda Merekalova’, Voenno-istoricheskii zhurnal, 12 (2002) and in V.I. Trubnikov, ‘Sovetskaya diplomatiya nakanune Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny: usiliya po protivodeistviyu fashistskoi agressii’, Voenno-istoricheskii zhurnal, 7 (2001), p. 15. They are confirmed by L. Bezymenskii, ‘Dvenadtsat’ minut iz zhizni posla Merekalova’, Novoe Vremya, 7 (1996), pp. 44–5; and L. Bezymenskii, ‘Sovetsko-germanskie dogovory 1939g.’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 3 (1998). On Weizsäcker, see Pons, The Inevitable War, p. 164; G. Roberts, ‘Infamous encounter? The Merekalov–Weizsäcker meeting of 17 April 1939’, The Historical Journal, 35/4 (1992).


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Petr Stegnii, ‘Ivan Maisky’s diary on the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact’, International Affairs, 6 (2009), is useful. On the drift towards Germany, see V.V. Sokolov, ‘Narkomindel Vyacheslav Molotov’, Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn’, 5 (1991), p. 102–3.
Given the British procrastination, it was clear to Litvinov and Maisky that they were now operating on borrowed time. In a balancing act, Stalin allowed negotiations with the British to continue, despite being aware that the German option had now become viable. The looming danger was clear from Maisky’s ominous warning to Lloyd George’s son that it was ‘vital’ to reach an agreement ‘before a month was out’,
This is forcefully argued in I. Fleischhauer, Der Pakt, Hitler, Stalin und die Initiative der Deutschen Diplomatie 1938–1939 (Berlin, 1990), pp. 154–6; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/30, 17 May 1939.
as well as from the urgency conveyed in his meeting with Halifax on 29 April.]
29 April
Halifax’s invitation to visit came a few hours before I even returned from Moscow. I went to see him today. He first inquired if my trip had been interesting, obviously expecting me to indulge in revelations. I only said ‘yes, very interesting’, before turning to the question of our 17 April proposals, to which the English had so far not responded at all.
Halifax apologized for the delay, which he attributed to the fact that the British government had been preoccupied with the conscription problem during the last fortnight, but then he set about cautiously criticizing our proposals. True, they were ‘very logical and well put together’, but great difficulties would arise in their practical implementation. Then he started harping on that old tune of Poland and Rumania.
A few minutes later, however, Halifax started contradicting himself. Speaking about the visit of Gafencu
Grigore Gafencu, Rumanian foreign minister in 1932 and 1939–40; minister to Moscow, 1940–41.
(the Rumanian foreign minister) he said that, according to Gafencu, Rumania would need Soviet assistance in the event of war, but until that happened Rumania feared that open association with the USSR might ‘provoke’ Germany. Rumania wished for the time being to maintain a certain ‘balance’ between the Soviet Union and Germany. So it seems that Rumanian objections to the inclusion of the USSR in the security guarantee are a matter of tactics, not principle.
Talking about our proposals, Halifax thought it necessary to ‘clarify’ one ‘significant point’ concerning the British formula of 14 April. We might have gained the impression that England and France expected Soviet assistance to be given to Poland and Rumania even if England and France were not


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involved in the war. If that was our impression, then it was based on a complete misunderstanding: what the British government had in mind was Soviet action only if and when Britain and France acted as well. I thanked Halifax for his clarification, but added that it did nothing to address the main cause of our objections to the formula of 14 April.
I asked Halifax about the negotiations between Britain and Turkey. Halifax said they were progressing quite smoothly and that he was expecting an Anglo-Turkish treaty of mutual assistance in respect of the Mediterranean to be concluded before long. A similar Anglo-Turkish treaty concerning the Balkans could be expected in the future. The Turks, however, were constantly stressing their close ties with the USSR, so, Halifax added, ‘the outcome of our negotiations with Turkey depends significantly on Turkey’s negotiations with you’.
Towards the end, we touched upon Hitler’s speech of yesterday.
In response to the introduction of conscription in Great Britain, Hitler announced the abrogation of the naval agreement with Britain, concluded on 18 June 1935; claiming Danzig, he also tore up the Polish–German non-aggression pact of 1934.
Halifax believes it changes nothing in the present situation. He does not anticipate any new negotiations with Germany in the near future, notwithstanding Hitler’s indirect invitation. Halifax was less sure about specifically naval negotiations (the old ‘appeaser’!).
With a little embarrassment, Halifax (in response to my question) explained the reasons for the return of the British ambassador to Berlin.
The thing is, you see, that if you are maintaining diplomatic relations with a country, then you need an ambassador there. So Henderson could only be recalled for a short time. Hitler was about to make a speech – what should have been done? If the speech had turned out ‘sharp’, it would have been awkward for Henderson to return immediately. But his return would also have been awkward if the speech had turned out ‘soft’, for such a move could well have been interpreted as proof that the British government believed Hitler’s promises, when the man should never be trusted. Faced with that dilemma, Halifax decided to cut the knot by sending Henderson back a few days before Hitler delivered the speech. Henderson had only one assignment: to inform the German government of the British government’s decision about conscription before it was announced officially in parliament. All other rumours were sheer speculation unworthy of attention.
Aware of the deadline he had been set by Stalin, Halifax’s response had the effect on Maisky ‘of a bucket of cold water’; Who Helped Hitler?, p. 123. He pressed Halifax to send a reply to the Soviet government ‘in the course of next week’; TNA FO 371 23065 C6338/3356/18.
[Realizing that the Soviet proposals had placed the government in an awkward position, Halifax warned the Cabinet on 19 April that ‘it would be necessary to exercise considerable caution’ in responding to the Soviet proposals. Particularly, Cadogan conceded, as the British offer to Russia had been made ‘in order to placate our left wing … rather than to obtain any solid military advantage’. The Foreign Policy Committee discussed the ‘extremely inconvenient’ Soviet proposals that evening, trying to figure out the best ways of preventing the opposition from exploiting a rejection of the offer. It subscribed to Chamberlain’s delaying tactics of repeating the original offer of unilateral guarantees,


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while denying accusations that its policy was motivated by ideological aversion.
TNA FO 371 22969 C5460/15/18 & 23064 C5747/3356/18, and TNA CAB 27/624, FP(36)43, 19 April 1939.
Maisky gave Halifax more credit, assuming that he made more positive proposals, which, however, were ‘tampered with by colleagues’.
Dalton papers, diary, I/20, 7 May 1939.
At the Foreign Office, they did not fail to notice that if ‘read between the lines’, the real motive for the Cabinet’s attitude was ‘the desire to secure Russian help and at the same time to leave our hands free to enable Germany to expand eastward at Russian expense’. This was a striking observation, considering the fact that the chief of staff had in the meantime established that Russian help was vital in contending with Germany and had warned of ‘the very grave military dangers inherent in the possibility of any agreement between Germany and Russia’.
Carley, 1939, p. 131; R. Manne, ‘The British decision for alliance with Russia’, p. 20.
By 26 April, the French, who had initially considered a positive response to the Soviet proposals, came back with a modified agreement, which confirmed the worst Soviet fears that whenever Britain and France considered it necessary to fight Germany, the Soviet Union would ‘automatically be drawn into the war on their side’, but if the Soviet Union found itself at war with Germany, the French and the British would not be committed.
SPE, docs. 253–6, exchange of telegrams between Litvinov and Surits.
Yet, clutching at straws, Litvinov, whose days in Narkomindel were now numbered, continued to entertain some hopes that the French draft for the three-power agreement, unsatisfactory as it was, would be approved by the British. In a long letter to Stalin on 28 April, he even dwelt on the positive aspects of the French proposal, and pleaded with him not to turn it down before the final British response was forthcoming.
SPE, doc. 259, Litvinov to Surits; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 259, Litvinov to Stalin.
]
30 April
Hore-Belisha, in his role as secretary of state for war, has sent an invitation to Comrade Voroshilov to attend the British manoeuvres which will be held from 19 to 23 September. Today he tried to impress on me how important it was that Comrade Voroshilov actually came. It could have tremendous political significance. Only representatives of ‘friendly powers’ were invited to attend the manoeuvres. I have my doubts whether K.E. [Voroshilov] will accept the invitation. But he will probably send a military mission.
Hore-Belisha then declared frankly that he would very much like to visit our country – to attend manoeuvres or on some other occasion, or even just like that. I recall Hore-Belisha dropping a hint about his desire to visit the Soviet Union as far back as the summer of 1937, but this time he was much more definite than before.
Well, we will see. If the Anglo-Soviet negotiations end successfully, with the pact being signed, Hore-Belisha will surely come to Moscow. But if not?
Once again, we’ll have to wait and see.
1 May
Winston Churchill told me a lot of interesting things about Gafencu’s visit to London. Gafencu made an excellent impression here. The Rumanian minister


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was very outspoken and shared many juicy details from his talks in other capitals.
Gafencu was very pleased with his visit to Ankara. He was also satisfied with his visit to Berlin. Hitler, Göring and others treated him very courteously. They did not intimidate or threaten him, but, on the contrary, were profuse in their expressions of ‘love’. Hitler is even said to have told him: Rumania can do without German machines, but Germany cannot do without Rumanian food and raw materials. Hence Hitler’s conclusion about the need for Germany to develop ‘friendship’ with Rumania. Obviously, British guarantees did play a certain role, and Hitler is trying to bring Rumania to heel by offering it the carrot.
Gafencu gave Churchill an account of his conversation with Hitler. Hitler execrated England as the organizer of the policy of ‘encirclement’. Gafencu claims to have replied that there was no encirclement of Germany whatsoever and that Germany itself was creating a sort of ‘psychological encirclement’ through its actions. Hitler then scoffed at the British guarantees to Rumania and insisted that England did not actually wish to implement them and, even if she did, would not be capable of doing so. Gafencu allegedly objected once more, saying that history had showed that England started wars badly but ended them well. Hitler jumped up, stamped his foot angrily and exclaimed: ‘In the event of war, my air force will reduce the cities of Great Britain to rubble in 48 hours!’
He suddenly stopped, as if struck by a new thought, and added in a different tone: ‘But who’ll benefit from it? Only Moscow!’
Churchill talked with Gafencu about the USSR’s participation in the security guarantees. Gafencu responded to Churchill in the same way as he had to Halifax. Churchill’s general impression is that if a tripartite military alliance were to be formed, Rumania’s doubts would largely vanish.
2 May
What is the current situation in England?
Summing up all the material at my disposal, I would describe it as follows.
The attitudes of the broad masses of the population are sharply anti-German everywhere, except for a part of Scotland. Hitler’s recent speech did not make much of an impression in the country, even though on the next day some newspapers (e.g. Beaverbrook’s) started chattering about the possibility of new negotiations between England and Germany. The need to resist aggression is fast becoming a universal conviction. Hence the country’s readiness to accept conscription. Labour’s opposition to conscription is insignificant and is already disintegrating. Hence also the colossal popularity of the idea of alliance with the USSR. Every mention of such an alliance is met with a storm of applause at rallies and gatherings all over the country. According to the latest poll by the


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Public Opinion Office,
Maisky is referring to the polls conducted by the British Institute of Public Opinion (Gallup).
87% are in favour of an immediate military alliance with the Soviet Union.
The situation in government is somewhat different. Of course, the public’s mood is exerting strong pressure on the government, and the majority of ministers are for resistance to aggression, but the logical conclusions have yet to be drawn. Most important, however, is the fact that Chamberlain, Simon, Kingsley Wood and other ‘appeasers’ have not yet definitively renounced their Munich policy. They are forced to retreat under pressure from the masses and events, but they do so reluctantly, trying to minimize inevitable concessions and, wherever possible, attempting to return to the methods used in the period of ‘appeasement’ (e.g. returning Nevile Henderson to Berlin).
The British government’s halfway-house policy is more and more obvious. Let me cite three examples.
Reconstruction of the government. This is considered absolutely inevitable now, and even the Beaverbrook press has started a campaign to this effect. But Chamberlain is stubbornly postponing the entry of such figures as Eden, Churchill and others into the Cabinet until the very last moment.
Conscription. This has also been considered absolutely inevitable for the past 4–5 weeks. But Chamberlain also put this off to the last minute, and when he saw that he would have to give in, he still tried to gain some revenge:


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conscription was applied only to one year group, not the three on which the majority of the Cabinet insisted.
Our proposals. There can be little doubt that the British government will eventually accept them. Its situation is desperate. Yet Chamberlain stubbornly resists and has kept us waiting for the English answer for over two weeks now. Moreover, at first he even tried to hush up the Soviet proposals and conceal them from the public. However, thanks to the supporters of an Anglo-Soviet military alliance in government circles, our proposals were leaked bit by bit to the press, and by the time of my arrival from Moscow their essence had become public knowledge. The opposition started exerting pressure in parliament, and a lively debate got going in the press. So the British government will have to respond to the Soviet proposals one way or another in the very nearest future. It may not wish to accept them immediately, but will have to do so sooner or later.
What is my final conclusion? Here it is. The masses – not only workers but the bourgeoisie as well – are far ahead of their government and demand a tripartite bloc of Britain, France and the USSR. The Cabinet is marking time and digging its heels in, but, urged on by the masses, it is eventually moving forward in the same direction. That is why, leaving insignificant, everyday details to one side, I am inclined to take an optimistic view of the ‘general line’ in the development of Anglo-Soviet relations.
[The diary entry conveys Maisky’s genuine views. Aware of the rift in Moscow, he couched what turned out to be his last telegram to Litvinov in more cautiously optimistic terms.
God Krizisa, I, no. 316, 3 May 1939.
Ewer of the Daily Herald found Maisky on that day in a ‘rather truculent mood’, admitting the existence of a ‘considerable conflict of views’ in the Soviet government and appearing most ‘anxious’ to have the Soviet proposals widely publicized, warning that their rejection might intensify the isolationist tendency.
TNA FO 371 23065 C6743/3356/18, 2 May 1939.
Maisky had goaded the opposition to raise the issue of the negotiations in parliament on 2 May, but Chamberlain was extremely evasive.
Hansard, HC Deb 2 May 1939, vol. 346, cols 1697–8.
]
3 May
Attended an Anglo-Chinese dinner where Guo Taiqi, Lord Chatfield
Alfred Ernle Montacute Chatfield (1st Baron Chatfield), admiral, first sea lord, 1933–38, minister for coordination of defence, 1939–40.
and Lord Snell spoke, and where mention of the Soviet ambassador among the guests was greeted with loud and unanimous applause.
When the speeches were coming to an end, Vernon Bartlett came up behind me and hurriedly thrust a piece of paper into my hand. The note read: ‘News just in from Moscow that Litvinov has resigned.’
4 May


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Azcárate visited me today. He now lives in Paris with his entire family, but sometime in the autumn he is going to move to London and spend more time here. At present, Azcárate is chairman of an inter-party or all-party committee of Spanish émigrés, and is responsible for the evacuation of Republicans from France to Mexico. The committee has a large office in Paris and organizes the emigration of those military and civilian elements who have proper political credentials. There are about 30–40,000 such emigrants. The fate of the remaining 300–350,000 who are presently in France is unclear. Some of them will probably settle down in France independently. The greater part will most likely return to Spain when Franco opens the border: there are many ordinary people in this group who fled from Catalonia to France through mass hysteria, but who are not guilty of any crimes, even from the point of view of Franco.
The situation in the concentration camps for the Republican soldiers has improved, although it is still far from decent. The French government’s attitude toward Spanish refugees has also changed for the better. Negrín and del Vayo left for the United States, but their intentions are not quite clear yet. Del Vayo is giving lectures, while Negrín will be conducting negotiations with the Mexican government concerning the conditions for the settling of the Republican emigrants. Pascua is also in America now. He was very depressed when he went there, and Azcárate does not know what he is doing now. There was great cause for celebration in Azcárate’s family recently: the wife of his eldest son (who on 12 March related the particulars of Negrín’s fall to me) managed to flee from Madrid and, after many ordeals, finally reached Paris. The events of recent months first separated them and then reunited them. Telling me of his daughter-in-law’s flight from Spain, Azcárate said with a smile: ‘This is a quite incredible epic all of its own, which I’ll recount to you some other time.’ I asked Azcárate whether the Republican soldiers interned in France would fight on the side of France in the event of Italian–German aggression? Azcárate thought for a moment and said: ‘I think they would.’
[Litvinov’s dismissal on 3 May had colossal repercussions on the international scene and for Maisky personally. A protégé of Litvinov, at a stroke Maisky lost his sanctuary. It is easy to imagine his shock when he read the telegram, unusually signed by Stalin personally, informing him and other key ambassadors of the ‘serious conflict’ between Litvinov and Molotov ‘ensuing from the disloyal attitude of Comrade Litvinov to the Council of Commissars of the USSR’.
DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 269.
Considered to be a relic of the past, Maisky was gradually ostracized. He now remained practically the sole genuine exponent of a pact with the West. Despite Molotov’s reassurances that the resignation implied no change in Soviet foreign policy, a great deal of anxious speculation circulated in the West, with commentators divided over whether the Soviet Union might wish to ramp up negotiations with Britain or would rather bring about a war, which would induce world revolution.
TNA FO 371 23685 N2291/233/38, Phipps to FO, 5 May.
The renowned military analyst Liddell Hart echoed the concern of many


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in London and Paris that it was only natural for Stalin to suspect that the laggard pace of the British negotiators meant that Chamberlain was ‘planning a side-step which would leave Russia to bear the brunt of Hitler’s expansionist drive and allow Britain to slide out of the fray’.
Liddell Hart, The Liddell Hart Memoirs, p. 241.
The recognition that ‘the eclipse of the Jew Finkelstein-Wallach
Litvinov’s Jewish name.
was likely to be pleasing to Berlin’ led even the Foreign Office to reconsider the proposed British response to the Soviet proposals, the gist of which was common knowledge.
TNA FO 371 23685 N2293/233/38, minutes, 8 May 1939.
When Litvinov met the British ambassador at Narkomindel early on the morning of 3 May, he was clearly oblivious to what lay in store for him. Seeds, in prophetic mood, had warned Halifax that ‘No good purpose would be served here by merely reiterating that His Majesty’s Government would lend all support “in their power”.’
TNA FO 371 23065 C6529/3356/18.
Maisky, too, would claim in retrospect that it was the British failure to pay heed to the Soviet proposals which delivered the ‘smashing blow to the policy of effective collective security, and led to the dismissal of Litvinov’. Likewise, Payart, the French chargé d’affaires in Moscow, warned that Halifax’s insinuations to Maisky that the British would ignore the Soviet initiative and reiterate their original proposal were responsible for Litvinov’s removal, signalling ‘a withdrawal into neutrality … or even an agreement with Germany’.
Dalton papers, II, 5/2, Boothby to Dalton on conversations with Maisky, 18 Sep. 1939; Payart quoted in Carley, 1939, p. 134.
Pinning the blame for the ousting of Litvinov and the shift towards Germany entirely on British ‘appeasement’ is, however, becoming an increasingly hard position to sustain. True, even Maisky confided to the Webbs that ‘Litvinov felt that the change over from the policy of collective-security … which he had been authorised to press at Geneva, to a German–Soviet pact, made desirable his retreat from being the Foreign Commissar’.
Webb, diary, 15 Oct. 1939, p. 6753.
But even Maisky (who, in Moscow in April, had spared no effort to attune himself to the Kremlin’s views) continued to maintain that appeasement was being increasingly challenged in Britain. Though the ousting of Litvinov steered Soviet foreign policy in a new direction, the explanation for his dismissal should also be sought elsewhere. Kollontay, who was taken ‘totally by surprise’ at the ‘incomprehensible, inexplicable’ coup at such a crucial moment, was forced to admit in her diary that, somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, ‘there [had] been a feeling for a long time that Moscow was unhappy with Maksim Maksimovich … the symptoms were invisible, but they were there’.
Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 432–4.
Ivy Litvinov later reminisced that the ‘writing on the wall’ had become increasingly ‘legible’ by the end of 1938, when ‘more and more people closely connected with L[itvinov]’ had been persecuted, and it was clear to everyone that Zhdanov’s criticism of Narkomindel early in 1939 had been targeted at her husband.
Ivy Litvinov papers, draft memoirs.
Maisky told Lord Strabolgi that it was ‘only a personal quarrel between Litvinoff and Stalin’.
Dalton papers, II, 3/2, Letter from Strabolgi, 20 Sep. 1939.
Litvinov himself had complained to the French ambassador in Moscow at the end of 1938: ‘How can I conduct foreign policy with the Lubyanka across the way?’
Quoted by M.J. Carley, ‘End of the “low, dishonest decade”: Failure of the Anglo-Franco-Soviet alliance in 1939’, Europe-Asia Studies, 45/2 (1993), p. 315.
The shift in Soviet policy should be examined within the wider context of the construction of the Stalinist edifice.
On the debate concerning the dismissal, see Resis, ‘The fall of Litvinov’ and Roberts, ‘The fall of Litvinov’.
This process led to the removal from Narkomindel of the cadre of the first generation of Soviet diplomats, most of whom were intellectuals drawn from the revolutionary intelligentsia of the tsarist period. They were rapidly replaced by diplomats who were perhaps inexperienced, but were zealous and educated young Stalinists who could be trusted to follow the Kremlin line, particularly at such a crucial moment. The novices were deliberately denied access to policy-making and their room for manoeuvre was restricted.


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The breach was accentuated by the personal antipathy and jealousy that characterized the two types of revolutionary.
Uldricks, ‘Impact of the Great Purges’, pp. 193–8. See also Kocho-Williams, ‘Soviet diplomatic corps’; Dullin, Men of Influence, pp. 240–1; Resis, Molotov Remembers, pp. 67–9.
‘You think we are all fools!’ Molotov shouted at Litvinov, as the latter was leaving Stalin’s office following his dismissal.


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H.D. Phillips, Between the Revolution and the West (Boulder, 1992), p. 166.
It was shrewdly observed by Seeds that Litvinov had ‘never been included in the inner councils of the regime, [had] never been a member of the all-powerful Politburo’ and headed a commissariat which had ‘long held a position of secondary importance’.
TNA FO 371 23685 N2547/233/38, 10 May 1939.
Molotov continued to bear a grudge against Litvinov well into his retirement. Though giving him his due as a ‘first-rate’ intelligent person, Molotov accused him of being disloyal. At a meeting of the commissariat in July 1939, Molotov charged Litvinov with failing to toe the party line and with ‘clinging to a number of people alien and hostile to the party and to the Soviet state’. The continued presence of independent-minded ambassadors would no longer be tolerated at Stalin’s court. Henceforth Maisky would find it extremely hard to abide by Molotov’s perception of the ambassador’s role, which was ‘simply to transmit what they are told to pass on’. A ‘centralized diplomacy’ guaranteed that ‘it was impossible for the ambassador to take any initiative … it was Stalin, not some diplomat, who played the decisive role in it’.
Resis, Molotov Remembers, p. 70; Roshchin, ‘People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs’, pp. 111–12.
The immediate, visible change was that Stalin tightened his personal grip on foreign affairs, with Molotov acting, in Moscow, as a messenger. As the British ambassador shrewdly observed, Litvinov’s dismissal also signalled ‘the loss of an admirable technician or perhaps shock-absorber’ and his replacement ‘with a more truly Bolshevik – as opposed to diplomatic or cosmopolitan – modus operandi’.
Reflecting a year later on the Soviet–German pact, Seeds believed that ‘personalities’ contributed significantly to it. The removal of ‘that astute cosmopolitan, M. Litvinov,’ he wrote, left Soviet policy in the hands of Stalin and his inner circle, who were ‘provincial’ and regarded compromise as a ‘sign of insincerity’. Churchill regarded Molotov as ‘fitted to be the agent and instrument of the policy of an incalculable machine … the modern conception of a robot’.
TNA FO 371 23066 C7614/3356/18, private letter by Seeds to L. Oliphant at the FO, 22 May 1939. Seeds quoted also from S. Aster, ‘Sir William Seeds: The diplomat as scapegoat?’, in B.P. Farrell (ed.), Leadership and Responsibility in the Second World War (Montreal, 2004), pp. 146–7; Churchill, The Gathering Storm, p. 330.
What may have further precipitated Litvinov’s dismissal (beyond the apparent bankruptcy of collective security) was the verbatim report of the interrogation of Beria’s
Lavrentii Beria, succeeded Ezhov as head of the NKVD, until his own execution in December 1953, in the wake of Stalin’s death, charged with plans to overthrow the communist regime. One of the hidden chapters in Maisky’s life had to do with the subversive ties he was compelled to establish with Beria in the latter’s purported bid for power.
predecessor, Ezhov, conveyed to Stalin by Beria on 27 April. This report would lead to a preliminary investigation by the NKVD into Litvinov’s ‘high treason’, which was dropped later in June. In his report, Ezhov, inter alia, recalled how he had unexpectedly found himself spending an evening with Litvinov at a sanatorium in Merano. After dancing a foxtrot, Litvinov teased him: ‘Here we are relaxing, going to restaurants, dancing, but if they found out about it in the USSR they’d really kick up a fuss. Nothing particularly terrible is happening here, but, you see, we have no culture, our statesmen have absolutely no culture whatsoever … If our political leaders established personal relationships with European political figures, a lot of sharp corners in our relations with other countries could be smoothed off.’
V.N. Khaustov, V.P. Naumov and N.S. Plotnikov (eds), Lubyanka: Stalin i NKVD-NKGB-GUKR ‘Smersh’, 1939–1946 (Moscow, 2006), doc. 37. On the NKVD investigations, as well as the transformation of Narkomindel, see the most authoritative and innovative work by S. Dullin, ‘Litvinov and the People’s Commissariat of Foreign Affairs: the fate of an administration under Stalin, 1930–39’, in S. Pons and A. Romano (eds), Russia in the Age of Wars, 1914–1945 (Milan, 2000) and E. Gnedin, Vykhod iz labirinta (Moscow, 1994), pp. 25, 28 and 35.
Litvinov was hardly helped by a letter that his wife had tried to smuggle abroad from Sverdlovsk, through an American architect, revealing her dismay about the purges. The letter found its way to Stalin, who summoned Litvinov and told him his wife ‘had nothing to fear – for the time being’.
Ivy Litvinov papers, draft memoirs.


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Maisky’s position had become most perilous, as the repressions in Narkomindel continued unabated. Molotov was instructed by Stalin to purge the ministry of the ‘semi-party’ elements, particularly Jews. Moreover, the NKVD tightened its direct control over embassies, and practically the entire cadre of ministry workers was replaced. Maisky was alienated from those newly arrived diplomats, who were attracted to the more popular and friendly style of Molotov’s leadership, which seemed to rejuvenate Narkomindel.
N.V. Novikov, Vospominaniya diplomata: Zapiski 1938–1947 (Moscow, 1989), pp. 24–5; Sokolov, ‘Narkomindel Vyacheslav Molotov’, p. 103; Resis, Molotov Remembers, p. 192; Uldricks, ‘Impact of the Great Purges’, p. 191.
However, the acute fear of a ‘second Munich’ rendered Maisky’s continued presence in London indispensable. The astonishingly wide web of contacts he had woven in London made Maisky l’oeil de Moscou, charged with detecting any sign of renewed appeasement, which might lead to an Anglo-German agreement.]
6 May
Halifax summoned me and asked straight out: Litvinov has retired – is our old policy still valid? In particular, do our proposals of 17 April remain intact?
The British government has prepared its reply to our proposals, but before sending it to Seeds, Halifax would like to hear my response to his questions.
I laughed and said that I didn’t understand his doubts. Of course, both our policy and our proposals remain in force.
Halifax was visibly relieved on hearing my answer.
Then he set out the gist of the British reply. Far from reassuring. The British government does not deem it possible to accept our proposals concerning a tripartite pact because it believes that such a pact would only scare off other powers whose participation in the ‘peace front’ is very important. This was followed by that old chestnut about Poland and Rumania. Nor are the British willing to give guarantees to the Baltic States because, first, the Baltic States do not want them and, secondly, such guarantees would only provide Hitler with fresh cause to raise the alarm about ‘encirclement’. Consequently, the British government decided to forward to us once more its formula of 14 April, after ‘clarifying’ it in line with the explanation given to me by Halifax during our conversation on 29 April (the British government does not expect us to act unless England and France are active participants).
I expressed great disappointment. It took the British government three weeks to consider our proposals, at the end of which the mountain has given birth to a mouse. Halifax’s arguments do not hold water. To the best of my knowledge, his references to public opinion in Poland and Rumania are gross exaggerations. The Baltic States have not yet formed their opinion on guarantees, so Britain and France, should they so wish, could certainly exert a favourable influence on them if necessary. Hitler’s cries may safely be ignored, for no matter what the peace-loving powers do, he will carry on yelling about ‘encirclement’. It goes without saying that the British government has the right to send whatever


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formula it wishes to Moscow, but I could tell Halifax in advance that Moscow would reject this formula.
Maisky was manifestly disappointed; see his report home in DVP, 1939, XXI/1, doc. 281. On the British government’s decision to reiterate its position, see Parker, Chamberlain and Appeasement, pp. 225–7.
9 May
Yesterday the British government finally gave its reply to our 17 April proposals. An unsatisfactory one.
Lloyd George, who had lunch with Maisky at the embassy, found him to be ‘very depressed, and feared that his country might return to a policy of isolation’; Sylvester papers, diary, A45, 8 May 1939. The successful conclusion of a pact with Britain had become vital for Maisky’s own survival after Litvinov’s dismissal. He believed that ‘the real obstacle’ to the acceptance of the Russians remained ‘the Umbrella Man’, as he expected Halifax to go ‘much further than the P.M.’; Dalton papers, diary, I/20, 7 May 1939. Though outwardly Maisky gave the impression of being ‘rather truculently pessimistic’, he continued to exert pressure on the Foreign Office through sympathetic intermediaries, maintaining that the wide gaps could still be bridged if the British government was prepared ‘to go a long way’ and conclude a triple alliance; TNA FO 371 23066 C7108/3356/18, telephone conversation with Ewer of the Daily Herald, 10 May 1939. Ewer had been exposed in 1929 by MI5 as a Soviet agent working closely with the Soviet embassy. The fact that he retained a prominent position with both the Foreign Office and the Soviet embassy may suggest that he acted as a double agent; TNA KV 2/1016 & 1017.
Seeds handed the following formula to Comrade Molotov:
It is suggested that the Soviet government should make a public declaration on their own initiative in which, after referring to the general statement of policy recently made by Monsieur Stalin, and having regard to statements recently made by His Majesty’s Government and the French government accepting new obligations on behalf of certain Eastern European countries the Soviet government would undertake that in the event of Great Britain and France being involved in hostilities in fulfilment of these obligations, the assistance of the Soviet government would be immediately available, if desired, and would be afforded in such manner and on such terms as might be agreed.
A rather long, confusing and clumsy statement, and, above all, even worse than what Halifax told me on 6 May. I went to see him in order to find out the reason for this discrepancy, but the foreign secretary could tell me little beyond the fact that the British formula had not yet been definitively worked out at the time of our conversation. This means that the prime minister must have made changes to the formula prepared by the Foreign Office. I recalled, incidentally, that as I was leaving Halifax’s office on 6 May his secretary entered the room and informed him that the PM was expecting him at 10, Downing Street after my visit.
Later, in the interests of ‘clarification’, I started criticizing the English formula. I particularly emphasized the absence of reciprocity: we should help England and France if they are drawn into war because of Poland and Rumania, but England and France are not bound to help us if we become involved in a war resulting from aggression against any other East European states.
Halifax first argued at some length that this situation could not arise, as the USSR had not yet given anyone any guarantees; but then he started stressing that the aim of the English formula was to assure us that the British government had no intention of demanding any sacrifices from the Soviet Union before such sacrifices had been made by Western powers. However, if we dislike the British formula, we are welcome to suggest another. He will readily consider our version, provided it takes into account the two elements which the British


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government deems essential, namely (1) the issue at stake is assistance to Poland and Rumania, and (2) the guarantees will come into force only if both countries put up resistance to aggression.
Halifax further noted that the phrase ‘would be immediately available’ was initially followed by ‘for Poland and Rumania’, but these words were later removed at the request of the named countries, as they did not want to be mentioned directly in the document. As regards the words ‘in such manner and on such terms’, these refer to more specific agreements between the Anglo-French party and us, such as the mutual rejection of separate negotiations, separate peace, etc. But it followed from Halifax’s words that all such schemes relate, in his view, to events after the outbreak of hostilities.
In conclusion, Halifax assured me that the British government was eager to negotiate with us as soon as possible and reach an agreement.
I remained cool and critical throughout. Numerous indicators suggest the conclusion that Hitler’s speech on 28 April has caused a temporary recurrence of ‘appeasement’ in government circles. The Times wrote the other day that ‘one more attempt’ should be made to seek reconciliation with Germany, so this must be the view of the prime minister, or at least Sir Horace Wilson. It won’t wash! The time for ‘appeasement’ has come and gone. Whether Chamberlain wants to or not, he will have to make major concessions to our point of view. For such is the logic of the current situation.
[Molotov emphatically rejected the British formula, but he consulted Maisky about a possible response. He was particularly pugnacious because he had learnt from the Polish ambassador earlier in the day that Poland had not raised any objection to the Soviet proposals.
SPE, doc. 277.
Typically, Maisky fawned on the new master, ‘the most esteemed Vyacheslav Mikhailovich’ and painted a pessimistic picture of Chamberlain’s reversion to ‘appeasement’. Yet he stubbornly adhered to his belief that public opinion and the intensifying opposition even within bourgeois circles was bound to forestall another ‘Munich’, and that ‘appeasement hardly has any chance of enduring and the logical turn of events should compel England to resist the aggressors’. A day earlier he had cabled to Molotov that although the proposals were ‘unacceptable … the English have not yet said their last word’.
DVP, 1939, XXI/1, doc. 290; God Krizisa, I, no. 333; TNA FO 371 23066 C7327/3356/18, 10 May 1939; SPE, doc. 281.
]
11 May
Yesterday Chamberlain spoke in the House about Anglo-Soviet negotiations and declared, inter alia, that the British government was taking all the necessary measures to dispel the Soviet government’s suspicions that Britain and France want to inveigle the USSR into a war with Germany while themselves hiding in the bushes. ‘If the Soviet government,’ concluded the prime minister, ‘still has any doubts on this subject, my noble friend (i.e. Halifax) believes that they


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can be easily dispelled. In this connection he has invited the Soviet ambassador to inform His Majesty’s Government of the specific grounds on which the doubts of his government rest, if they still exist, and the Soviet ambassador has willingly agreed.’
All this is sheer nonsense. Halifax did not ask me anything of the sort during my last conversation with him on 9 May, nor did I agree to anything. However, Chamberlain uttered that phrase for a reason: he was summoning the Soviet government to a ‘frank dialogue’ about the heart of the matter. That is how I interpreted the PM’s speech yesterday. Particularly after the telephone call I received from Strang: half an hour before Chamberlain’s speech, Strang called me and said with great emphasis: ‘If, in connection with the forthcoming declaration by the prime minister, you should wish to see Lord Halifax, he will be entirely at your disposal.’ Strang repeated this two or three times in various combinations.
My assumptions have been fully confirmed today. First, all the morning papers interpret the PM’s statement as an invitation to a ‘heart-to-heart talk’. The Times and the Manchester Guardian go so far as to inform the readers about a ‘long conversation’ between Halifax and myself yesterday following the session in parliament. Needless to say, no conversation occurred.
Secondly, and this is still more important, when I called on Halifax today on another matter (more on this below), his first question was: ‘Have you been instructed to communicate anything to me from the Soviet government?’
The foreign secretary was greatly disappointed when he learned that I had brought no news on this subject. Our subsequent conversation actually repeated most of what we had said to each other during our previous meeting on 9 May. I responded to Halifax’s arguments and thoughts in the spirit of today’s Izvestiya editorial, which had been sent to me by cable.
Now about the business that brought me to the Min[istry] of F[oreign Affairs] today. On Monday, 15 May, the Council of the League of Nations will convene, chaired by the USSR. Surits asked Moscow to adjourn the session until 22 May so that Potemkin, who is only today returning to Moscow from his three-week trip around the Balkans and the Near East, could also be present at the session. This certainly makes sense. An adjournment of the Council session, however, requires the unanimous agreement of all its members (and primarily of the great powers). Surits had already gained the consent of the French. I had to obtain the consent of the English.
Halifax opened his diary and started thinking aloud: ‘The week beginning 22 May is already very full for me… But… but the decisive consideration here should be the possibility of your government representative coming to Geneva… So, although this is rather difficult for me, I agree to the adjournment.’


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Then Halifax asked me who exactly would come from Moscow. C[omrade] Molotov? Or C[omrade] Potemkin?
Out of prudence I did not give a name, merely saying that ‘a representative of the Soviet government’ would come.
Halifax had obviously made his mind up that C[omrade] Molotov would not go, for he suddenly asked whether C[omrade] Potemkin spoke English. And in general, would Halifax be able to converse in English with the Soviet delegation in Geneva?
I answered half in jest: ‘If a common political language is found, linguistic problems will be easily overcome.’
15 May
I have been appointed USSR representative at the forthcoming session of the Council of the League of Nations. Comrade Potemkin is not coming to Geneva. There will be nobody except me in the Soviet delegation. This means, then, that I will also be chairing the Council session.
It’s an awkward situation. We asked for the Council session to be adjourned to enable a Soviet delegate from Moscow to come to Geneva. Now, with the session adjourned at our request, nobody from Moscow is actually coming. The English and French will certainly be offended and annoyed, all the more so as Halifax was placing great hopes on the possibility of coming to a final agreement with the Soviet government on the question of ‘European security’.
However, the decision of the Soviet government also has its positive side: it prevents the British government from using the excuse of negotiations in Geneva to delay or avoid giving a response to the proposals we made yesterday. There will be no high-up in Geneva to act as judge and jury. In Geneva there will be Maisky, that same Maisky whom Halifax can meet in London any day of the week. What cause can there be for further delays? The answer will have to be given fast and straight.
[The idea that Halifax should proceed to Moscow for ‘a straightforward’ discussion with Molotov originated with Maisky during a heart-searching conversation with Dalton, who then raised it in parliament on 10 May. Halifax, however, preferred the meeting to take place at the forthcoming session of the Council of the League of Nations in Geneva, to be presided over by the Russians. He looked forward to a conversation with Molotov or Potemkin, ‘who could speak with full knowledge of the mind of the Soviet Government’.
TNA FO 371 23065 C6924 & C6925 & C6743/3356/18, 10 May 1939; DDF, 2 Serie, XVI, Doc. 137, Corbin to Bonnet, 11 May 1939.
News of the appointment of Maisky to head the Soviet delegation crossed with a telegram from Maisky urging Molotov to attend the Geneva meeting in view of the drastic shift in British public opinion in favour of an alliance with the Soviet Union. He further advised Molotov to adopt his own method of appealing to the English people over the head of the government.
God Krizisa, I, no. 347, 15 May 1939; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1616 l.10, report on conversations with Beaverbrook, 11 May, 1939.
]


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16 May
On 14 May in Moscow our reply to the British proposals of 8 May was handed to Seeds. It boils down to the following:
The proposals of the British government of 8 May cannot serve as the basis for organizing a peace front to counter the further expansion of aggression in Europe.
Our reasons:
(1) The British proposals lack the principle of reciprocity with regard to the USSR, thereby placing her in an unequal position. England, France and Poland, on the basis of reciprocity, guarantee each one against direct attack by an aggressor. The English proposals do not provide the USSR with such a guarantee from England and France.
(2) The English proposals provide for guarantees only to Poland and Rumania, while the north-western borders of the USSR (Latvia, Estonia and Finland) are left exposed.
(3) The absence of English and French guarantees in the event of direct attack on the USSR, as well as the exposure of the north-western borders of the USSR, may provoke aggression against the USSR.
In the opinion of the Soviet government, at least three conditions are essential in order for peace-loving states to erect a genuine barrier against the expansion of aggression in Europe:
(1) An effective tripartite pact of mutual assistance between Britain, France and the USSR.
(2) Guarantees on the part of these three great powers to Central and Eastern European states which find themselves threatened by aggression, including Latvia, Estonia and Finland.
(3) The signing of a concrete agreement between Britain, France and the USSR on the forms and scope of assistance to be extended to one another, as well as to the states guaranteed by them. Without this, the mutual assistance pact would risk being stranded in mid-air, as the experience of Czechoslovakia has shown.


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The Soviet Union demanded reciprocity, which implied a requirement that the Baltic States be included in the guarantees which would be sustained by an agreement on military assistance; TNA FO 371 23065 C6922/3356/18, 11 May 1939.
Excellent. In particular, our proposals are brief, simple and convincing in their clarity. This will help us a great deal in winning over the public in Britain and France.
[Commenting on the new draft proposal to the Russians, the chiefs of staff embarrassed Chamberlain and Halifax on 16 May by insisting that any arrangement short of a full-blown alliance might have ‘serious military repercussions … of ultimately throwing the USSR into [Germany’s] arms’. The Cabinet was split on the issue. While Chamberlain, tacitly backed by Halifax, rejected the idea of a grand alliance, underlining the ‘political’ aspects which were overlooked by the chiefs of staff, Lord Chatfield, the minister of defence, warned that – ‘distasteful’ as it was for him personally to contemplate an


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alliance with the Soviet Union – the chiefs of staff were ‘very anxious that Russia should not, in any circumstances, become allied with Germany’. Irritated by Maisky, who was ‘working hand in hand’ with the opposition, Chamberlain hardly budged from his position, warning that an alliance would increase Britain’s ‘liabilities’ as well as the ‘probability of war’. He anticipated ‘trouble’ from the Russians, who had ‘no understanding of other countries’ mentality or conditions and no manners’. Halifax, however, wished the Cabinet to reach a decision before his departure for Geneva. It was clear to him that the only choices were for the negotiations to be ‘allowed to break down, or a full military alliance with Russia accepted’. This precipitated Vansittart’s evening meeting with Maisky, which was aimed at toning down the terms of the proposed agreement.
TNA FO 371 23066 C7268, 7400 & 7401/3356/18, and Halifax’s conversation with Corbin in the same vein in TNA FO 371 23066 C7268/3356/18, 17 May 1939; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 416, 14 May 1939. See also the excellent reconstruction in Manne, ‘The British decision for alliance with Russia’, pp. 22–4.
]
17 May
Yesterday the Vansittarts came over for an ‘intimate’ lunch. We discussed international affairs at length, and above all the Anglo-Soviet negotiations. Vansittart expressed the view that the second point of our most recent proposals (military negotiations) was easy to implement, but that the first (a tripartite mutual assistance pact) and the third (guarantees to Central and Eastern European countries) would be more difficult. I, in turn, made it quite clear to Vansittart that the three points of our proposals were the minimum, and that if the British government was not inclined to accept them, I saw no chance of reaching an agreement at all.
A rather desperate Maisky deprecated any action which might result in a breakdown of the negotiations; TNA FO 371 23066 C7499/3356/18, 19 May 1939. Maisky assuredly gave Vansittart the impression, as the latter impressed on Cabinet, that he was prepared to drop the issue of guarantees for the Baltic States if military talks commenced promptly; TNA FO 371 23066 C7401/3356/18.
Today, at 12.30 in the afternoon, Vansittart urgently summoned me to the FO. He received me not in his office, but in his secretary’s office next door. He apologized, saying that an important meeting was currently under way in his room. Indeed, during my talk with Vansittart, the door to his office opened for a split-second and I caught a glimpse of several Foreign Office officials amid clouds of tobacco smoke.
Vansittart looked highly agitated. He said that yesterday, after our lunch, he had had the chance to speak to Halifax, after which he decided to try ‘on his own initiative’ to hasten the process of finding a basis for agreement between our governments. To this end, he had drafted a formula, but before sending it to Moscow he wanted to hear what I thought about it. The formula read as follows: as soon as the declaration, stipulated by the British proposal to the USSR of 8 May, is made public, the three great powers shall embark on military negotiations, but only in respect of assistance to Poland and Rumania. Did such a formula have any chance of being favourably received in Moscow? Should it be sent at all?
I replied that there was no need to send the formula worked out by Vansittart to Seeds. It would inevitably be rejected.


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Vansittart tried to defend his formula, but I said that there was no use wasting time debating it, since the Soviet government’s reaction to the proposal was already perfectly clear to me.
I added that as long as the British government failed to recognize the principle of a tripartite mutual assistance pact, no basis for further negotiations could be found.
Then I left. This evening, at seven o’clock, Vansittart invited me once again to the FO. This time he received me in his own office. He looked even more agitated than in the morning and, handing me a sheet of the bluish paper which is so often used by the FO, he asked me to treat the document he had prepared without prejudice and with an awareness of the responsibility that lay on us all in these critical days. Perhaps the document was not ideal, but it was the most he could get the Cabinet to accept at the moment. Were we to accept it, at least as a starting point for further negotiations, then he hoped he could persuade his government to make further concessions to us. The main thing was that we should not waste time. Alarming information was coming from Danzig. Hitler was planning a new ‘sally’. We had to act with the greatest speed and determination.
I skimmed Vansittart’s new formula (see attached)
Not in the diary but published in DVP, 1939, XXII/1, doc. 315.
and raised my head. Vansittart was looking at me with bated breath, waiting for my response.
I shook my head doubtfully.
‘Your new formula,’ I said, ‘is composed skilfully, but in essence it differs little from what you showed me in the morning. This fact determines my attitude towards it.’
Vansittart started objecting. The new formula effectively gives us a tripartite pact. It will be applicable not only to Poland and Rumania, but also to the Baltic States, for Vansittart is in no doubt that the consultation, stipulated in the third point, will inevitably result in the extension of guarantees to the Baltic States as well. The moment at which military operations commence will be determined jointly by the three governments. What more do we want?
I replied that even if one accepted Vansittart’s interpretation, which I did not deem entirely accurate, the tripartite pact he proposed would have as its geographic base only the states that neighbour us, while what we wanted was a pact encompassing the whole of Europe. The pact he proposed completely excluded the instance of a direct attack on our territory. Neither did it resolve the Baltic question categorically and with full clarity.
‘So you think that the new formula cannot serve as the basis for agreement?’ Vansittart asked
‘That’s right,’ I replied, ‘I don’t think the Soviet government would accept it.’
But Vansittart insisted on asking me to forward the formula to Moscow and to recommend it to the Soviet government. He also wished to receive our reply as soon as possible, preferably the following day, 18 May.
Vansittart reported to Halifax that Maisky’s reaction ‘had not been too unfriendly’ and he had undertaken to submit the formula to Moscow ‘forthwith’; TNA EP (36) 48 in FO 371 23066 C7499/3356/18. Maisky continued to exert pressure on Halifax even before he received the Soviet reply, anticipating (as he told the French ambassador in London) that the British proposals would be rejected. He further used informal channels to the Foreign Office to convey the same message, as well as his belief that, unless the British government was prepared to ‘climb down’ and conclude a triple alliance, there was ‘no chance whatever of agreement’; DDF, 2 Serie, XVI, Doc. 216; TNA FO 371 23066 C7468/3356/18, phone conversation with Ewer of the Daily Herald.


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I promised to inform the Soviet government about his proposal promptly, but refused to recommend it to Moscow. Besides, tomorrow is not a working day in our country, and I am not sure I can get a reply before the 19th.
18 May
Walking in the embassy garden this morning, I pondered Vansittart’s move yesterday. I think it can be explained in the following way.
The Soviet government’s reply of 14 May put the British government in a tight spot. Our proposals are clear, simple, reasonable and capable of appealing to the consciousness of the man in the street. They have already leaked out to the press and, were the Anglo-Soviet argument over the terms and conditions of agreement to be judged by the British public, Chamberlain would most definitely lose.
On the other hand, the British government’s commitments towards Poland, Rumania and Greece render a quick deal with the Soviet Union absolutely essential from the British point of view. For, without us, those commitments cannot be made good. What, in fact, can England (or even England and France together) really do for Poland and Rumania if Germany attacks them? Very little. Before the British blockade against Germany could become a serious threat, Poland and Rumania would cease to exist. So British guarantees in the east without an agreement with us will inevitably mean military defeat for Britain, with all the ensuing consequences. That’s assuming England honours its word. Should it break its word and avoid giving assistance to Poland and Rumania under some pretext, then it would be signing its own death warrant as a great power. Not only would this entail a catastrophic loss of global credibility – political and economic – but the rapid disintegration of its Empire.
All these considerations – domestic, imperial and international – are undoubtedly occupying the minds of Chamberlain and his ministers. They are especially concerning at the current time, as the House is scheduled to have a debate on foreign policy on 19 May, in which Churchill, Eden, Lloyd George and other ‘stars’ will speak, and which will essentially boil down to the question: why has a pact with the USSR not been signed yet?
Maisky, ‘the smirking cat’, observed Channon, was ‘leaning over the railing of the ambassadorial gallery and sat so sinister and smug (are we to place our honour, our safety in those blood-stained hands?)’. In his speech to the House, Churchill, briefed in detail over the phone by Maisky about the state of the negotiations, reproached Chamberlain with being guided rather by emotion than by state interests, which called for an alliance with Russia; Rhodes, Chips, p. 199; Maisky, Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 125–6 and letter to The Times, 5 Sep. 1969. On the eve of the debate, Maisky dined with Amery and a dozen members of the ‘Eden Group’ of anti-appeasement backbenchers at the house of General Spears. ‘The little man,’ wrote Amery in his diary, ‘was quite firm on the point that Russia was going to have a black and white alliance or nothing.’ Although Amery commented that he now understood ‘why our ancestors had considered bear-baiting such good sport,’ he found convincing Maisky’s argument that instead of facing up to Nazi Germany, the government was ‘looking over their shoulder the whole time and hanging on to the carcass of the dead policy of appeasement’; Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/39.
Meanwhile, for psychological reasons, the prime minister is still unable to swallow such a pact, since it would throw him into the anti-German camp once and for all, thus putting an end to all projects aimed at reviving ‘appeasement’. That’s why Chamberlain keeps bargaining with us like an old gypsy, trying to foist a bad horse on us instead of a good one. It won’t work! Yet he still hasn’t lost hope…
But why has Vansittart agreed to become Chamberlain’s instrument in pushing such a shady deal?
I don’t know. Perhaps his true intention is to be back in the mainstream of active politics? Perhaps he thinks that first you have to get in there, no


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matter how, and then the very logic of things will lead towards an actual agreement?
If Vansittart reasons in this way, he is grossly mistaken. We shall not accept his formula, and this will arm Chamberlain with yet another argument against him.
19 May
To my surprise, the reply from Moscow arrived on the 18th at 5 p.m. I decided, however, not to inform Vansittart about it till the next morning. As I expected, the reply was brief and unambiguous: unacceptable.
I visited Vansittart in his flat today at 10.30 a.m. He did not seem surprised by our reply. It seems that he was fully prepared for it after our conversation in the evening of 17 May. He merely sighed and uttered, as if to himself: ‘Well, it can’t be helped. Looks like we’ll have to get down to work again, and think up something new.’
Corbin called me during the day over the telephone, arguing in detail and at length that Vansittart’s formula had to be accepted. In his opinion, the compromise should consist in the fact that we would sacrifice the tripartite pact in exchange for British and French guarantees to the Baltic States. Corbin was greatly disappointed to hear that Moscow had already rejected Vansittart’s proposal.
Aras, to whom I paid a visit at 5 p.m., told me that he had just seen Cadogan, to whom he had expressed concern on behalf of the Turkish government regarding the delay in Anglo-Soviet negotiations, as well as the hope that agreement could be achieved promptly. Cadogan assured Aras that the British government was seeking to complete negotiations as quickly as possible and would spare no effort to find a formula which we would deem acceptable.
At 7 p.m. Vansittart asked me to drop by at his flat for a few minutes. When I entered the hall, he rushed to greet me and announced excitedly that he had good news to communicate. The decision had just been taken to ask Seeds to inform the Soviet government that as a result of the recent exchanges (the British proposal of 8 May and our counter-proposal of 14 May, and my talks with Halifax, Vansittart and others) the positions of the parties have been definitively clarified and the existing difficulties accurately identified. The British government would make every effort to overcome these difficulties and hoped to find the appropriate means to do so. However, the new proposals required a special decision by the whole Cabinet and would be adopted at its meeting on 24 May. Following that, the British government would give its official reply to our proposals of 14 May through Seeds (Vansittart had advanced this formula in an unofficial capacity). Until the 24th Halifax and I would be able to keep in touch and exchange views about the negotiations in Geneva.


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I remarked that that was all very well, but the most important thing was the nature of the proposals which the British government planned to adopt on the 24th.
Vansittart added still more unofficially that the overall nature of his conversation today with Halifax had given him grounds for optimism. Today’s debate in parliament would also have an impact. Vansittart hopes that agreement will be reached next week.
I shook my head doubtfully and, taking my leave, teased Vansittart in a now entirely unofficial manner: ‘Admit it, Sir Robert, deep down you are pleased we have taken a firm stand!’
Vansittart burst out laughing and exclaimed: ‘Perhaps!’
We parted till the end of the month. Agniya and I are taking the night train to Geneva.
21 May
Here we are in Geneva.
We arrived in Paris yesterday, at 9 a.m., and wandered about the city until evening. Talked a lot with Surits. Did a bit of shopping. I also met Robert Longuet (the son of the late Jean Longuet
Jean Laurent-Frederick Longuet, leader of the French Socialist Party.
) and we arranged the transfer to the I[nstitute] of M[arx], E[ngels] and Lenin of various relics and objects that his great-grandfather had left in the family (including two armchairs, in one of which Marx wrote his Das Kapital, and Marx’s correspondence with the publisher of Das Kapital).
It so happened that Halifax and I travelled from Paris to Geneva in the same train and even the same carriage. Photographers at the station made our life hell: they were dying to take a photograph of me next to the British foreign secretary. But I managed to avoid that.
When the train moved off, Halifax met me in the corridor of our carriage and said that he would like to see me in Geneva the following day for a thorough discussion. He promised to call me immediately after our arrival. He has yet to call.
The Paris train gets in to Geneva devilishly early, at 7.13 in the morning. We all crawled out of the carriages sleepy, gloomy and peeved. For some odd reason, Halifax decided to walk from the station to the hotel. It was a grey, drizzly morning, and his long, lean figure striding through Geneva under a black umbrella seemed to have leapt from a cartoon by Low.
***


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Halifax called, and we met in his hotel at 11.30 a.m. Strang was also present during the conversation, which lasted nearly an hour and a half.
Halifax began by asking me to explain our resolute opposition to the British formula of 8 May.
Emphasizing that this was my personal reply, I indicated the reasons underlying our position.
The Soviet Union can pursue one of two courses today:
(1) A policy of isolation and freedom of movement in international affairs. This could ensure its relative security (considering its might, its abundant resources, the size of its population, etc.). I say ‘relative’ because such a policy would not be able to stave off a world war, with all the ensuing consequences.
(2) A policy aimed at building a peace bloc, primarily with Britain and France, which would impose heavy military obligations on the Soviet Union and limit its freedom of action in international affairs, but which would promise greater security, for by taking this route one could hope to avert a world war.
The USSR prefers the second course and wishes to pursue it. But, naturally enough, it assesses the Anglo-French proposals in the light of the possibilities open to it.
Yes, the Soviet Union is prepared to abandon freedom of action and assume heavy obligations, but only on condition that the British and the French mean real business. Otherwise it makes no sense for the USSR to refuse the opportunities offered by the first option.
What do we understand by real business?
In the first place, it means the possibility of averting a world war – this is our main goal.
It further means maximum guarantees of security and victory for the USSR should war nevertheless break out.
What is required for these aims to be accomplished?
What is required is a concentration of peace-loving forces so powerful as to make the aggressors lose hope of military success. Such a powerful concentration can only be attained through a tripartite pact, reinforced by a military convention. Therein lies the basis of our proposals. Without a tripartite pact, there can be neither real security nor hope of victory in the event of war. If the Anglo-French side declines the tripartite pact, it will be much more expedient for us to follow the course of isolation and ‘relative’ security.
Meanwhile, what does the Anglo-French formula offer? Even if we look at the latest ‘Vansittart version’?
It does offer a tripartite pact, but on the basis only of Poland and Rumania. Can such a pact prevent war? No, it can’t. Can it at least provide a sound guarantee of security for our western borders? No, it can’t, since all the Baltic States remain unprotected. What is the point, then, of our accepting the 542Anglo-French formula? There is none. So we reject it as being deprived of the principles of equality and reciprocity, and as being incapable of preventing war.
Such is our position. I believe I have expounded it with the utmost clarity.
Halifax listened very attentively, interrupting me fairly often to pose a question or request an explanation. At the end, he declared that he now understood our point of view entirely and found much of my argument convincing.
Then I, in turn, asked Halifax why the British government was so opposed to our proposals.
Halifax replied that the British government had two principal motives.
First, the Baltic States, in their fear of Germany, do not want to be guaranteed by a tripartite pact. In the end, one cannot impose guarantees on others by force.
Secondly – and this is far more important – many in Britain think that a tripartite pact may push Hitler to unleash war straight away, and therefore, rather than preventing war, the pact will hasten it. Halifax made a point of emphasizing that this was not his own opinion, but the opinion shared by influential British circles, including some of his colleagues.
I replied that I found both arguments unconvincing. The reluctance of the Balts was being greatly exaggerated (just as the reluctance of Poland and Rumania to form a bloc with the USSR had once been exaggerated). As for the probable effect of the pact on Hitler’s conduct, the reverse ought to be the case. The gravest mistake made by certain leading English figures is their complete failure to grasp the psychology of such men as Hitler and Mussolini. These Englishmen perceive them as they would a business man from the City or an English country gentleman. They could not be any more mistaken! Aggressors have an entirely different mentality! Those who would like to understand the aggressor mentality would do better to look to Al Capone as a model. We have experienced this for ourselves in Japan. That experience and our observation of European events have brought us to the firm conclusion that aggressors respect only force! Only force will make them doff their cap! That is why I am absolutely convinced that the creation of a tripartite pact would not only not lead to war, but would make Hitler and Mussolini retreat.
Halifax asked with obvious interest: ‘After all, the Japanese seemed to concede to all your demands in the fishery business, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, they did,’ I answered, ‘but consider their behaviour: for months they’d been demanding, insisting and threatening, and tormenting Litvinov with endless meetings, but when they finally understood that they couldn’t frighten us, they conceded to all our demands at the very last moment, at precisely five minutes to twelve. Five to twelve! The Japanese were playing tough, but our nerves proved stronger than theirs, and as a result we won.’


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We then returned to the Anglo-French formula.
‘But if,’ Halifax continued, ‘the Baltics received guarantees like Poland and Rumania, wouldn’t that satisfy you? Why would you then need a tripartite


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mutual assistance pact? Your entire western border would be covered, and the Germans would have no way of attacking you without encroaching on the guaranteed countries on your western border.’
I replied: ‘But what if our neighbours fall victim to “indirect” German aggression? What if, using the well-known fascist technique of carrot and stick, Germany provokes internal coups in our limitrophes and sets up its own governments there? Or bribes and threatens the governments that are currently in place? What if these states become German allies, or, at the very least, allow German troops heading for the USSR to pass through their territory? In that case our limitrophes will offer no resistance to German aggression, and your guarantees towards them will remain inactive. What then?’
These arguments set Halifax thinking. They had clearly never entered his mind before, at least not in such a clear and precise form. Eventually he said: ‘I understand: You are afraid that at a critical moment your limitrophes might capitulate. Yes, it’s a serious consideration.’
Our conversation came to an end. Shaking my hand on parting, Halifax summed up: ‘I will think over the content of today’s conversation and try to draw the appropriate conclusions in time for the Cabinet’s next meeting.’
A strange business! On the day of my departure for Geneva, a Tory MP I know said to me with a wry smile: ‘I have nothing to do with diplomacy, and may not understand much about it. Yet it seems strange to me, as an outsider, that in order to have “serious conversations” about the Anglo-Soviet pact, you and Halifax should need to go to Geneva.’
I laughed and readily agreed with him. But here’s a curious thing: when talking with me in Geneva, Halifax was far more straightforward, free and human than he is in London. Moreover, we talked for an hour and a half, while in London Halifax never allows ambassadors to stay with him for more than thirty minutes.
How should we understand this? Can it be the effect of Geneva’s celebrated atmosphere?
22 May
Today I assumed the chair of the Council of the League of Nations. Simpler than I’d imagined. It’s all right so far. Nevertheless, today I clashed with Avenol at a special meeting of the Council, for the following reason.
Avenol told the Council about the correspondence that the L[eague] of N[ations] had had with Zog, former king of Albania, and Albanian diplomats.


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Zog, of course, had protested against Italian aggression and asked for the help of the LN. This correspondence did not give rise to any exchange of views, and Avenol was about to file it when I said, in a brief speech, that we had before us a most serious case, characteristic of the present international situation, and that the LN ought not to ignore Italian aggression against Albania. Considering the significance of the problem arising from this case, I proposed to submit all the relevant documents and materials to the next Assembly of the LN.
Avenol was shocked, and gave a suspicious sniff. He was sitting next to me, and I could sense the slightest movement of his soul and body. The delegates of the other countries kept silent and looked as if something indecent had happened in the conference hall. In the end, Halifax asked what I meant: putting the whole Albanian question on the agenda of the next Assembly, or merely handing over to it the LN correspondence with Zog and others?
I replied that for the time being I meant the latter. The Council should forward all materials to the Assembly, and the Assembly should decide what to do with them.
Halifax said that in that case he had no objections. The other Council members kept dead silent. I gave them no time to come to their senses and, wary of further questions or objections, hastened to announce with a loud voice and resolute air: ‘Any comments? Objections?… None! Then the proposal is accepted!’
King Zog will thus come to figure at the Assembly.
I then moved on to the next question. On the eve of the Council session, Beneš sent a telegram from Chicago addressed to the Council chairman, where he protested against the annexation of Czechoslovakia and asked the LN to discuss the situation. Beneš also sent a copy of the telegram to Comrade Molotov.
While Avenol somehow managed to swallow Zog’s letter, Beneš’s telegram stuck in his craw. He therefore tried to conceal the telegram from the Council, and was helped in this by Sandler (the Swedish foreign minister). It was Sandler who received Beneš’s telegram in his capacity as chair of the Council, a post he formally retained until noon today (he chaired the previous Council session in January). Sandler, in agreement with Avenol, decided not to do anything about the telegram, not even to communicate its contents to the Council members. Had Beneš not sent a copy of his telegram to Moscow, the conspiracy of silence organized by Avenol might have succeeded. But I knew about it from Moscow and so, in a private talk with Avenol yesterday, I asked the latter to send a copy to me. I also informed Avenol that I thought it desirable to pass the telegram over to the Assembly. Avenol mumbled something incomprehensible in reply, but he did nevertheless send me a copy.


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After settling the question of Zog’s letter, I announced, in my capacity as the USSR’s representative, that I wished to bring a similar document to the Council’s notice. I uttered Beneš’s name and was about to read the text of his telegram.
Avenol suddenly turned red as a lobster, blew out his cheeks, and in his fury all but shouted: ‘But this runs counter to our constitution!… Beneš’s telegram is addressed not to you, but to Mr Sandler as the previous chairman… You can’t divulge another person’s document… Mr Sandler conceded that there was nothing to be done about it, and you can’t change his decision!’
There was a stir in the meeting-room. Everyone sensed a scandal in the air, and knew that something interesting was afoot.
‘I have to confess, as a novice, that I do not know the LN regulations backwards,’ I replied, ‘and if I, as the present chairman, do not have the right to divulge documents received by my predecessor, I would like to ask the latter to do so.’
Saying this, I passed Beneš’s telegram to Sandler, who was sitting three seats away from me. Sandler was dying of embarrassment and fended off the telegram as if it were the black death, muttering something about not having instructions from his government. The other Council members sat like lumps of stone, burying their noses in their papers and pretending to be unaware of what was going on.
‘If my predecessor,’ I went on, ‘deems it impossible to read Beneš’s telegram, which has great political significance, I will have to do it myself…’
‘But you cannot divulge this document without violating League regulations,’ Avenol hissed angrily.
‘And what solution can you recommend as secretary-general?’ I pressed on.
‘I don’t know,’ Avenol hissed again.
‘Then I’ll have to seek instruction from the Council,’ I parried. ‘Do the Council members wish to hear Beneš’s telegram?’
A tense silence fell. Then, all of a sudden, the booming voice of Jordan (New Zealand) exploded like a bomb: ‘I’m a member of the Council and know nothing about Beneš’s telegram. It would be interesting to hear it.’
Halifax intervened, declaring in a calm voice: ‘Each of us probably has quite a few papers in his pocket that would be interesting to hear, but that is no argument for violating LN procedure.’
Bonnet, who was sitting on my right, hastened to give Halifax his support.
It was clear that they would not allow me to read Beneš’s telegram at this session, so I decided to manoeuvre and said in a more conciliatory tone: ‘Considering these difficulties of a juridical-procedural nature, I’ll not insist on reading Beneš’s telegram right now, but after the meeting I will have a special


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meeting with the secretary-general, and I hope we shall then find ways that accord with regulations to bring the document in question to the Assembly’s notice.’
Avenol bristled and parried: ‘Our constitution forbids the divulging at Council and Assembly sessions of documents received not from governments but from private persons. We all highly respect Dr Beneš, but at the present time he is a professor at the University of Chicago, not president of the Czechoslovak Republic. Moreover, he was not deprived of his presidency by force, but retired quite voluntarily. Dr Beneš is just a private person now, and the League of Nations cannot consider documents that come from him.’
This enraged me and I replied in a sharper tone: ‘Dr Beneš is indeed just a private person from a refined, legalistic point of view, but I think that in matters of this kind it is dangerous to engage in legalistic pedantry. We all know full well the circumstances under which Dr Beneš ceased to be president of the Czechoslovak Republic, and for us, as for the world’s public, it is simply not possible for him to be just a private person without the right to speak on behalf of his country. Nevertheless, I repeat once again that I do not insist on the immediate reading of Beneš’s telegram and hope to settle this difficulty through talks with the secretary-general.’


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No one objected. The Council passed to the next item on the agenda.
After the meeting, I learned that there is a simple way of bypassing the juridical barrier which Avenol referred to: as the USSR representative, I should address a letter to Avenol on behalf of my government, asking him to bring the text of the attached telegram to the notice of the Assembly. Avenol will then be obliged to do so. This is how I shall have to act.
23 May
In my role as Council chairman, I gave a lunch today in Hotel de Bergues for all members of the Council and Secretariat of the League. I’d brought caviar and vodka for this occasion from London. We had traditional Russian hors d’oeuvres, the kulebyaka pie, pickled mushrooms, and other delicacies for which Soviet lunches have long been renowned in Geneva, thanks to M.M. [Litvinov].
During lunch, I spoke a lot with Halifax, who sat on my right as the senior guest. Halifax questioned me about the status of religion in the USSR (he is a very religious man, one of the senior representatives of Anglo-Catholicism). The talk then somehow turned to the fall of the Romanov dynasty, and I related


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many curious details to Halifax about the last period of tsarist rule in Russia. He displayed great interest in Rasputin
Grigorii Efimovich Rasputin, Russian mystic who served as personal and domestic policy adviser to Tsarina Aleksandra Fedorovna; murdered in December 1916, following a monarchist conspiracy suspicious of his intentions.
and in the correspondence between the tsar and tsarina, published in the early years of the revolution.
We spoke little about current issues. I merely asked Halifax whether he had reached any conclusions, following our talk of 21 May. Halifax didn’t give a straight answer, and asked in return: ‘So you are quite sure that a tripartite pact could avert the threat of war?’
‘Yes, I am,’ I answered.
Halifax had nothing to add, but he gave the impression that he was mentally underscoring some paragraph or other in the speech he’ll be giving tomorrow to the Cabinet. He is leaving Geneva today on the night train, he’ll be in Paris tomorrow morning at seven, and will fly from there to London at 8.30 a.m. on a plane sent for him from England so that he can attend the Cabinet meeting at eleven. That’s what modern transport can do!
Bonnet told me over lunch that after speaking to me, Halifax had reached the definitive conclusion that a tripartite pact was essential, and that he would report to the Cabinet tomorrow along these lines. Bonnet himself is also leaving for Paris tonight in order to exert pressure on London after the governmental meeting ‘if need be’. What a hero! What an ardent advocate of the tripartite bloc!
[Halifax had urged the Cabinet to reach a decision before his departure for Geneva, scarcely concealing his ‘strongest possible distaste’ for an alliance, which would amount to ‘acquiescing in Soviet blackmail and bluff’ while closing all doors to conciliation with Germany.
TNA EP (36) 48 in FO 371 23066, C7499/3356/18, 19 May 1939.
In Geneva, however, Maisky found Halifax to be more amenable and ‘much freer than at the FO’. Expressing his ‘personal opinion’, he made it plain to Halifax that an alliance was a sine qua non, for if Russia ‘was to abandon her position of isolation & thus her freedom of action she must be certain that what took its place did not endanger her position’. The only way to prevent the outbreak of war – the main Soviet objective – was through ‘a concentration of powerful forces on the side of peace as would crush any hope of victory for the aggressor’. Reporting on his conversation with Maisky, Halifax – oblivious to the more pressing Soviet objective of forestalling Anglo-German collusion – preferred to attribute Soviet rejection of the proposed British guarantees to a fear that they would not cover a German attack on the Soviet Union through a third country.
Maisky tailored his report home to suit the views of Molotov and Stalin, with which he had become acquainted during his latest sojourn in Moscow. The report, based on information he had gleaned from Churchill’s circles before his departure for Geneva, maintained that Chamberlain was ‘being pushed all the time into a policy which he does not like, and hates abandoning the last bridges which might still enable him to


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renew his former policy’. It was ‘perfectly obvious’, Maisky concluded, that the British government was ‘avoiding a tripartite pact purely out of a desire not to burn its bridges to Hitler and Mussolini’. He deliberately withheld the information that, notwithstanding Chamberlain’s efforts ‘to avoid a war alliance’, his own sources were convinced that the prime minister would ‘have to do what Stalin wants’.
God Krizisa, I, no. 366; TNA FO 371 23066 C7522/3356/18; Harvey, Diplomatic Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 37–40; Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/39, 19 May 1939.
Indeed the records describe Maisky emerging from the talks optimistic, convinced that Halifax had appreciated his arguments and would make ‘a favourable report to the Cabinet’. Journalists expected an agreement to be concluded within a week or two.
The Times, 22 May 1939; Bilainkin, ‘Mr Maisky sees it through’.
In Chamberlain’s entourage, however, they were only too familiar with Halifax’s tendency to change his tune depending on whom he saw last (not to mention whom he was addressing). Halifax’s shift towards the Soviet position occurred after he had conferred with Bonnet and Daladier in Paris on the way to the League meeting. Both stood fast by the Soviet proposal and warned that a failure to reach an imminent agreement might tempt Stalin either to retire into isolation and ‘let Europe destroy itself if it would’, or (worse still) to reach accommodation with Germany.
TNA FO 371 23066 C7551/3356/18, 21 May 1939; see also a paper by the French chief of staff, in DDF, 2 Serie, XVI, Doc. 268, 24 May 1939.
Chamberlain was indeed disappointed by Halifax’s failure to ‘shake Maisky’ from his demand for an alliance. Yet, guided by domestic considerations, he ‘very reluctantly’ conceded that it would be most difficult to reject the Soviet proposal. He remained, however, deeply suspicious of Soviet aims. As Maisky had correctly surmised, above all he was concerned lest an alliance ‘make any negotiation or discussion with the totalitarians difficult if not impossible’. This indeed figured prominently in Halifax’s presentation in Cabinet of the ‘pros’ and the ‘cons’ of an alliance. However, it was outweighed by the grim realization that an alliance had become indispensable if Hitler was to be deterred.


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TNA FO 371 23066 C7591/3356/18, 22 May 1939; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 418–19.
]
25 May
On instructions from Halifax, Butler met me this morning at the L[eague] of N[ations] and handed me a memorandum, whose essence was the following: His Majesty’s Government, having given careful consideration to the matter, is now disposed to agree that effective cooperation against aggression in Europe between the Soviet, French and British governments might be based on a system of mutual guarantees which should be in general conformity with the principles of the League of Nations. The guarantees in question would cover direct attack on any of the three governments by a European state, and also the case where any of the three governments was engaged in hostilities by the attacking state in consequence of aggression upon another European country. The conditions of the last mentioned eventuality would need to be carefully worked out.
The memorandum further informs us that after the Cabinet meeting yesterday, the prime minister made the following statement in the House: I have every reason to hope that as a result of proposals which His Majesty’s Government are now in a position to make on the main questions arising, it will be found possible to reach full agreement at an early date. There still


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remain some further points to be cleared up, but I do not anticipate that these are likely to give rise to any serious difficulty.
The memorandum ended by indicating that in the nearest future the Soviet government would be offered ‘a formula that gives expression to the above-mentioned principles’.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Butler asked me after I had run my eyes over the memorandum.
‘It is undoubtedly a step forward,’ I answered, ‘but I’ll withhold my final judgement until I see the promised “formula” in black and white.’
‘You are very cautious,’ Butler said with a laugh.
‘I learned to be so in London,’ I responded in the same spirit.
[By Chamberlain’s own admission, it is doubtful whether he intended to see the alliance through. Conspiring with Horace Wilson, he came up with ‘a most ingenious idea’. Acquiescing on the face of it to the Soviet Union’s substantial demands, he would dispense with the term ‘alliance’ by binding the British obligations to Article XVI of the Covenant of the League. However, he expected this article to be ‘amended or repealed’ before long, as indeed was openly reported in the press,
See the New York Times, 21 May 1939, and The Times, 22 May 1939.
thus giving the agreement ‘a temporary character’.
Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 418–19, 28 May 1939; S. Aster, 1939: Making of the Second World War (London, 1973), p. 350. ‘Our new obligation,’ railed Channon, ‘means nothing. A military alliance might have been the signal for an immediate war – “blown the gaff” – but a Geneva alliance is so flimsy, so unrealistic and so impractical that it will only make the Nazis poke fun at us’; Rhodes, Chips, p. 201. Even the legal experts who drafted the League’s formulae for Chamberlain dismissed it as ‘obvious eyewash’; TNA FO 371 23066 C7469 & C7661/3356/18, 25 May 1939. See also Shaw, The British Political Elite, pp. 64–6; on Chamberlain’s dismissive attitude to the League, see P. Beck ‘Searching for peace in Munich, not Geneva: the British government, the League of Nations and the Sudetenland question’, in I. Lukes and E. Goldstein (eds), The Munich Crisis, 1938: Prelude to World War II (London, 1999).
Iverach McDonald, political correspondent of The Times, recalled being informed by senior officials of Chamberlain’s extreme reluctance to pursue the talks. His chief, Geoffrey Dawson, an intimate friend and co-fellow of Halifax’s at All Souls, was convinced that Chamberlain was ‘letting the talks trickle on, but he does not think anything much will come of them’.
McDonald, A Man of the Times, p. 61.
Molotov did not fall into the trap, instead insisting that conclusion of the treaty depended on ‘an immediate activation of a pact of mutual assistance’. He accused Chamberlain of adopting a procedure which would ensure the extension of the negotiations ‘ad infinitum’, rather than ‘obtaining concrete results’. Binding the tripartite agreement with the Covenant of the League of Nations naturally intensified the embedded Soviet suspicion that it was to be used either as a card in future negotiations with the Germans, or as an attempt to drive a wedge between Germany and Russia.
SPE, doc. 309, Molotov to Maisky, 26 May; TNA FO 371 23066 C7682/3356/18, Seeds to Halifax, 27 May 1939.
]
26 May
I’ve learned that the general secretary of the Rumanian Foreign Ministry arrived in Geneva at the beginning of the week to meet Halifax and Bonnet. The general secretary told them on instructions from Bucharest that Rumania did not particularly fear an attack from Hungary or Bulgaria, or even the two of them combined: Rumania could cope with them on her own. However, should Germany participate in an attack on Rumania, the situation would change drastically. Even the most optimistic forecast of the Rumanian general staff indicates that, without outside help, Rumania could hold out for no more than three weeks. That is why Rumania would be ready in this given case ‘to accept the cooperation of the Russian army’.


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I’ll say! Look at the wording of it: ‘to accept the cooperation of the Russian army’!
Be that as it may, the myth about Rumania’s non-acceptance of ‘cooperation with the USSR’, which the British have been peddling for so long, has collapsed for good.
27 May
The Council session is over! But over the last four days I have had to face quite a few difficulties and complications.
At first it looked as though the session could be wrapped up on 24 or 25 May. The various items on the agenda could have been settled in a single meeting. We ended up discussing them over two sessions for no good reason. Of the political issues, two were of greater significance – China and the Äland Islands. Taking past experience into account, I raised the Chinese question at the very first meeting on 22 May. A commission to draft a Chinese resolution was then elected and the resolution was submitted on 24 May, but it was a poor one, because the British and the French refused to agree to the setting up of the coordinating committee which the Chinese insisted on (I supported the Chinese throughout). Nevertheless, one way or another, the Chinese issue was dealt with. Only the Äland question remained, and that’s where we got stuck.
The gist of it was as follows. In January, Finland and Sweden requested permission from all members of the 1921 Äland Convention to fortify the southern part of the archipelago. This had received unanimous consent by the time the Council convened. On 21 January, the Finns and the Swedes sent us a note as well, to ask not for our consent to the fortification of the Äland Islands, but only for our support during discussion of the matter at the League of Nations. Prior to the session, the Soviet government had not given the Finns and the Swedes an answer of any kind. The Finns and the Swedes were nevertheless convinced that we would not obstruct their wishes at the Council.
But our position in Geneva has proved quite different. The Soviet government believed, and still believes, the fortification of the archipelago to be a very dubious undertaking, as it carries the great risk that it will be occupied by the Germans in the event of war – with or without the consent of Finland and Sweden. In any case, the Soviet government has not been able to give its blessing to the fortification of the islands while the entire issue remains to be studied fully and while the Finns refuse to provide it with pertinent information about the scale and nature of the intended armaments (some ten days ago the Soviet government addressed the Finish government with a note to this effect, but the latter refused to answer, citing considerations of ‘military secrecy’). In


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the light of the above, the Soviet government asked the Council to postpone discussion of the issue until next time.
The Finns and the Swedes, however, were adamantly opposed to this. When I informed Sandler about our position on 21 May, he flew into a rage and threatened that if the Council did not comply with their wishes, Sweden and Finland would begin to fortify the islands without the Council’s permission. Moreover, he hinted that Sweden and Finland might even withdraw from the League of Nations. The Finnish representative Holsti
Eino Rudolf Woldemar Holsti, Finnish foreign minister, 1919–22 and 1936–38.
was less truculent, but his remarks were in the same vein.
The British and the French, bound by prior consent to the fortification and reluctant to quarrel with the Scandinavians, were also against shelving the issue. Avenol, of course, was for Sweden and Finland and against us. The smaller countries (Greece, Bolivia, Belgium, Peru, New Zealand and others) had no desire to interfere in the dispute. China, afraid of treading on the toes of Britain and France, avoided taking sides.
Such were the circumstances in which I began my fight. After conferring with Butler, who had replaced Halifax, and with Charvériat,
Emile Charvériat, succeeded René Massigli, who was preaching rapprochement with Czechoslovakia and the USSR, as director of the political affairs bureau of the French Foreign Ministry, in 1938.
who had replaced Bonnet, I proposed a special meeting of the six powers concerned (USSR, Sweden, Finland, Britain, France and Belgium) to try to settle this contentious question. Belgium found itself among the powers concerned purely because its representative, Bourquin,
Maurice Bourquin, Belgian professor of International Affairs at Geneva University and member of the Belgian delegation to the League of Nations, 1929–39.
was due to give a report on the Äland issue. Three special meetings of the six powers were held. In addition, the Äland issue was the subject of a ‘special meeting’ of all the members of the Council and of a ‘special session’ of the Council (not to be confused with a ‘special meeting’ of all Council members). In a word, a great quantity of time and words, and of nerves and passions, was expended on this issue.
First of all, I raised the possibility of postponing discussion of this item on the agenda. This idea was rejected by almost all the other representatives. I then let it be understood that if the issue was to be discussed during the session, I would have to vote down any resolution that might be put to the Council. In order to find a way out of the impasse, the representatives of Britain, France and especially Belgium began to suggest various compromises.
In their address to the League of Nations, the Swedes and the Finns asked the Council to express its ‘approval’ for their decision to fortify the Äland archipelago. The mediators said that ‘approval’ should be removed and replaced with ‘acknowledgement’ of the Swedish–Finnish intention, which would


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suffice. Sandler and Holsti objected fiercely at first, but eventually they agreed. I stated, however, that ‘acknowledgement’ was an indirect form of approval, and that I would therefore vote down this resolution as well. We started thrashing the problem out again, and Bourquin suggested that, first, he would not give a ‘report’ to the Council in the real sense of the word, but would satisfy himself merely with a ‘statement of facts’, establishing both the Swedish–Finnish and the Soviet positions; and secondly, the Council would not have to vote ‘to acknowledge’, but that as chairman I alone should announce at the end of the discussion that the Finnish–Swedish message had been acknowledged. To Bourquin’s obvious regret, I turned down this scheme as well, on the principle that it was the same, only worse. I, for my part, proposed (twice, in fact) that a vote be held on the following question: ‘Do you approve the fortification of the Äland Islands?’ My proposal, however, was turned down by the overwhelming majority of delegates at the ‘private meeting’ of all members.
Since the dispute over the Äland Islands had already been dragging on for three days and most of the delegates were in a hurry to leave, Bourquin, in a state of extreme desperation, eventually proposed the following: he would not make even a ‘statement of facts’ at the Council, but just present a bulletin about the state of the Äland Islands issue; after hearing the various declarations and speeches of the Council members, no decision would be passed at all, and the chairman would announce that the debates held at the Council would be ‘entered in the minutes’. Sandler and Holsti agreed to this, and so did I. Today, at seven in the evening, the last meeting of the 105th Council session was held, devoted entirely to the Äland issue.
Here I must note a rather curious fact. Yesterday, Avenol had a talk with Comrade Sokolin, during which he clearly hinted that since the USSR was a ‘party’ to the Äland issue, I should not chair the meeting at which it would be discussed. But I turned a deaf ear to these hints. Today, according to information I have received from various sources, Avenol campaigned among the Council members with some success along these lines. But I didn’t react to this either. Finally, after lunch, Avenol himself raised the subject with me and cited several precedents in support of his arguments, in particular the case of Beneš, who had declined chairmanship in the dispute between Czechoslovakia and Hungary.
I replied to Avenol: ‘Can you show me the article of the Covenant or the regulations which would forbid me to chair the meeting on the Äland issue?’
Somewhat taken aback, Avenol exclaimed: ‘No, there is no such article.’
‘So you are referring only to old precedents?’
‘Yes, to old precedents,’ replied Avenol.
‘I cannot regard them as binding,’ I said, ‘and I am prepared to create a new precedent.’


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Avenol was beside himself. He puffed out his cheeks, turned red, and exclaimed angrily: ‘But what about public opinion? You’ll be attacked in the press.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I retorted. ‘It won’t be the first time I come under fire. I can cope with public opinion.’
Avenol shrugged his shoulders in despair.
So the attempt to unseat me failed. I had firmly decided that I would chair the Äland meeting come rain or shine – not only because I found Avenol’s claims senseless, but also because it was important for me to forestall the slightest possibility of the Finns and the Swedes interpreting the examination of the Äland issue by the Council as even the most indirect approval of their intentions. And I managed to get my way.
After Bourquin had read his ‘bulletin’, after Sandler, Holsti, Charvériat, and others had delivered their statements, and after I had made my statement on behalf of the USSR, in which I stressed the absence of unanimity among Council members, and uttered the words ‘the proceedings will be entered in the minutes’ – after all this, I loudly added one final sentence: ‘This means that the LN Council has taken no decision whatsoever on the issue under discussion.’
The matter was sealed. The Finns and the Swedes had been totally defeated. But then, as soon as the session was closed, Sandler and I shook hands in full view of the whole Council and the audience, as one would do in any good sports club. Like two boxers after a bout.
Sandler was greatly upset. Holsti vanished without even saying good-bye to me.
28 May
It was with great relief that I left Geneva today. I took away with me a vague, unpleasant aftertaste. The weather had been foul throughout. The League of Nations smelled of carrion. But what repelled me most of all about Geneva was the fact that I witnessed at first hand the staggering might of the legal-procedural chicanery which has built its nest in the ‘Palace of Nations’. It is the apotheosis of chicanery. An impenetrable web of chicanery. Knots, traps and gaps at every turn. Everything is strictly regulated: every step or action taken by the Assembly, Council or chairman. Even breathing seems to be regulated at the League of Nations. The Secretariat is omnipotent, and Avenol an absolute dictator. He was awfully indignant at my behaviour (and did not conceal this in public). Regulations, traditions and precedents decreed that the chairman should follow the ‘advice’ of the secretary-general whenever in doubt. It has always been thus. The chairmen usually dance to Avenol’s tune like puppets. I took unheard-of liberties: not only did I refuse to be led on his string, but I took issue with him and acted contrary to his advice. He could not forgive me for


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that. Avenol told everyone that I was too ‘independent’ a chairman and that it was certainly not possible to call me the ‘mouthpiece of the Secretary General’.
Well, to hell with Avenol! All this is already behind us. I hope I shall never again have to ‘grace’ the ‘Palace of Nations’ with my presence.
This morning was exceptionally fine, in stark contrast to the entire preceding week. Bright sunshine, a cloudless sky, the sparkling blue lake. I decided to travel to Paris by car. Agniya was already waiting for me there, having gone by train the previous day. Sokolin accompanied us to Dijon. We went on from there in a group of three: Kozlovsky,
Yuri M. Kozlovsky, Litvinov’s private secretary, removed from this position in 1937.
Kushelevich and I.
We arrived in Paris at 8 p.m.
Yesterday, 27 May, Seeds presented the following proposals to Comrade Molotov in Moscow. They represent a concrete expression of the ‘principles’ discussed in the memorandum which Butler gave to me in Geneva on 25 May.
[There follows the text of the British proposals, which were based on Chamberlain’s evasive attempt to shift the negotiations to Geneva and conclude an agreement under the umbrella of the League’s covenant. Molotov was quick to dismiss the proposals as ‘unacceptable’. It was an Anglo-French attempt ‘to continue conversations indefinitely and not to bind themselves to any concrete engagement’.
Neilson, Britain Soviet Russia and the Collapse of the Versailles Order, pp. 295–7.
]
30 May
In the absence of Halifax and Cadogan, who have left town for Whitsun, Oliphant invited me to see him. He met me somewhat sullenly, with the air of someone who had been unfairly insulted.
In Moscow, Seeds and Payart, too, were taken aback by Molotov’s fierce reaction. Seeds tried in vain to convince Molotov that the decision of the British government ‘marked a radical turning point in English foreign policy’; God Krizisa, I, no. 339.
He began by reading out to me numerous ciphered messages exchanged over the past four or five days between London and Moscow, i.e. the Foreign Office and Seeds, in which the course of talks between Seeds and Molotov (the 27 May meeting) was set out, as well as Halifax’s instructions to Seeds. Having established that the English proposals of 27 May were received very critically by Molotov, Oliphant announced Halifax’s great disappointment. Halifax had fully expected us to accept the proposals at once, instead of which Molotov had greeted Seeds with an avalanche of unpleasant comments: that the British government was dragging out the talks, that it did in fact desire effective resistance to aggression, that the League of Nations was included in the British proposals simply for the purpose of creating impediments to a fast reaction to an attack by an aggressor, etc. Seeds and Payart tried to dispel Molotov’s suspicions, but had obviously failed.
Oliphant finds all this very distressing. The British government, he says, wishes to reach an agreement as early as possible. In order to overcome the


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new difficulties, Oliphant sent fresh instructions yesterday to Seeds, which boil down to the following:
(1) In referring to clauses 1 and 2 of Article 16 of the L[eague] of N[ations], the British government had in mind only the principles expressed in them and not the procedure stipulated therein. The reference was dictated mainly by domestic considerations, as well as by the desire to satisfy the smaller nations. The British government does not insist on its wording, however, and is ready to seek some other formula together with us.
(2) The British government is prepared to start military talks immediately, so as to resolve our doubts in regard to paragraph 3 of the British proposals.
(3) The British government is ready to offer every assurance to us that paragraph 5 of the British proposals concerns only those countries to which the tripartite alliance will render support.
(4) The British government deems it very important to publish at least a preliminary communiqué about the Anglo-Soviet agreement, as was done in connection with the Polish and Turkish talks.
Having familiarized me with these instructions, Oliphant asked whether they would dispel the doubts of the Soviet government and lead to an early conclusion of the talks.
I replied that I could not give a definite answer to his question. The instructions are certainly intended to dispel some of our doubts, but will they succeed? I am not sure. The Soviet government is used to believing deeds, not words.
Personally, I could only say that, after familiarizing myself with the British proposals, I, too, was disappointed. Following my talk with Halifax in Geneva, I had expected the proposals to be clearer, simpler and more definite. In fact, they contained many ambiguous statements allowing for varied interpretations. Since I was fully aware of the high calibre of the Foreign Office staff, and in particular of those who took part in formulating these proposals, I could hardly attribute the flaws to negligence. Some objective must have been concealed beneath the deficiencies of wording. And this could not but render me, and everyone else on the Soviet side, suspicious. We were conducting negotiations about a document of paramount political and military importance, on which literally millions upon millions of lives would depend – so it was only to be expected that we would carefully weigh every word and clause of the document. Halifax had no reason to be either surprised or disappointed.
In conclusion, I promised Oliphant that I would bring our conversation to the notice of Moscow.
On 2 June, Comrade Molotov handed Seeds the following reply from the USSR to the British proposals of 27 May.


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[Included in the diary are Molotov’s ‘ironclad, well defined commitments’, pretty much a repeat of Litvinov’s original proposals of 17 April calling for a system of collective guarantees covering the states between the Baltic and the Black Sea and insisting on a simultaneous military agreement to be concluded.
Carley, ‘End of the “low, dishonest decade’”, p. 322.
The Kremlin’s policy continued to be driven by a deep-seated suspicion of Chamberlain. The Franco-Soviet pact – which, as Molotov explained to Seeds, had ‘turned out to be merely a paper delusion’ – had taught the Russians the ‘absolute necessity’ of concluding ‘simultaneously, both a political and a military agreement’.
TNA FO 371 23067 C7937/3356/18, 29 May 1939.
In his speech to the Supreme Soviet on 31 May, Molotov found it hard to shake off the suspicion that the ‘authoritative representatives’ in Britain, who were ‘glorifying the success of the ill-fated Munich Agreement’, betrayed ‘a sincere desire to abandon the policy of non-intervention, the policy of non-resistance to further aggression’. He feared that Britain was trying to divert the aggression and confine it to ‘certain areas’. By publicizing in great detail the state of the negotiations, the aim was to exert extraneous pressure on the British government and to put a spoke in the wheels of the anticipated Anglo-German talks. At the same time, the crack opened up by Stalin with his ‘chestnuts’ speech was further widened when Molotov declared that there was ‘no necessity for refusing to have commercial relations with such countries as Germany and Italy’.
SPE, doc. 314.
]
3 June
[Included without a commentary is a satirical verse, ‘Decameron’, by Don-Aminado (Aminad Shpolyansky), a famous émigré poet, published in the Russian émigré newspaper Poslednie novosti on 2 June 1939. The satirist scoffs at the Anglo-Soviet alliance: the ‘spousal’ ends with the adultery between the ‘Russian lady’ and Hitler, and the ‘English lord’ and ‘the Italian lady’. The matchmakers Potemkin and Maisky find themselves in prison.]
Decameron They differed like June and December, And both had quite high self-regard. The bride was a Komsomol member, The groom was an English milord. This contrast they could not address, Yet still they decided to wed. She sported a cotton-print dress While he wore a tail-coat with velvet. And so at the registry office, Performing her citizen’s duty, She offered her husband a kiss And shone with quite magical beauty.


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A telegram came from Kalinin,
And Halifax sent one soon after. Our couple set out on their journey, Put one foot in front of the other. They tried, and they strove, and they suffered. Out walking in various cemeteries, They sang of hard labour and workers, And hoped they could make life more merry. But soon their neighbours did whisper: The bloom of their love it is fading, The lady is visiting Hitler, The lord his Italian plaything… The rulers, like angels of Sinai, Delivered them straight into hell. The brokers Potemkin and Maisky Were rapidly sentenced to jail. D. Aminado [translated by Oliver Ready]
8 June
Halifax invited me to see him today and informed me of the British government’s decision to send Strang to Moscow. The motives for the decision are as follows: Seeds has been out of touch with the Foreign Office for many months and is poorly informed about the present mood and wishes of the British government. Halifax wanted to summon him to London for instruction, but Seeds went down with the flu. It was therefore decided to send Strang to Moscow to assist and brief Seeds. Besides, the British government finds that the method of exchanging notes which has been practised hitherto leads to misunderstandings and wasted time. Meanwhile, the dangerous international situation renders haste essential. For this reason, the British government would like to have a ‘round-table conference’ in Moscow. The British representative at the conference will be Seeds, while Strang will prove a good assistant. Out of all this eloquence, one thing was clear to me: the Foreign Office considers Seeds poorly qualified for serious negotiations and is sending Strang as reinforcement. Well, let them!
Halifax made three comments concerning the Soviet proposals of 2 June:


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(1) The British government acknowledges as entirely rightful our wish to receive a guarantee for our n[orth]-w[estern] border, and is ready to meet us halfway in this respect, but finds it undesirable to name Latvia, Estonia and Finland directly in the agreement (paragraph 1 in the Soviet proposals). These countries do not want a guarantee, and it is undesirable to create the impression that the tripartite bloc is imposing a guarantee upon them.
(2) The British government has grave doubts about paragraph 6 of our proposals (whereby the pact and the military agreement will enter into force simultaneously), as this would entail a major delay in the completion of negotiations. It would be desirable to publish at least a preliminary communiqué as soon as agreement is reached on the essence of the problem.
(3) Paragraph 5 of our proposals (undertakings not to conclude a separate peace, etc.) also raises some doubts. War objectives must be taken into consideration here. But Halifax did not dwell on this point and only said that he thought it would be easy to reach agreement on this matter.
Halifax reckons that Strang will be able to leave for Moscow on 12 or 13 June.
[Ironically, Maisky would henceforth be increasingly removed from the negotiations, warily conducted by Molotov in Moscow at the same time as feelers were put out to Germany. Halifax was reluctant to have the talks in London, as he doubted whether Maisky ‘would be given any latitude in negotiating’. Indeed, on the recommendation of Seeds, Maisky was no longer briefed by the Foreign Office about the course of the negotiations.
TNA FO 371 23067 C8097/3356/18; DDF, 2 Serie, XVI, Doc. 422, Naggiar to Bonnet, 14 June 1939.
A noticeable dissonance could now be felt. While Maisky evinced confidence in the prospects for concluding an agreement, Molotov remained sceptical and his attitude hardened. Maisky played down the obstacles and was ‘inclined to think’, as he wrote to Kollontay, that the alliance would be formed ‘in the not-too-distant future’. He likewise told Lloyd George’s son ‘that there was nothing to worry about for … [the British] Government had been gradually moving towards what the Russians wanted … He was quite confident … that agreement would be reached. He said our Government has now come 75% of the way & are bound to come the whole 100%.’ He told the Webbs that the agreement would be ‘settled and signed this week or next’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 l.20, 31 May; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/130, Gwilym Lloyd George to his father, 1 June 1939; Webb, diary, 12 June, p. 6665. He gave that same impression to the correspondent of the New York Times, 31 May, and as late as 24 June 1939.
It is striking that, at his meeting with Halifax on 8 June, Maisky was still convinced that negotiations were progressing along the right tracks and even spoke in ‘warm appreciation’ of Strang and his mission. From Paris, the other survivor of Litvinov’s protégés, Surits, shared Maisky’s optimism, informing Molotov that ‘no one here even considers it possible that the talks with us might break down and fail to result in an agreement’.
SPE, doc. 332.
]
11 June
We stayed with the Webbs. I like to visit this serene but thoughtful spot.


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A simple but comfortable and cosy country house. Fields, hills and small groves all around. Close by is a small village hotel, once a shady inn which served for centuries as a smugglers’ den. There is nothing luxurious, nothing redundant in the house itself, but there are plenty of books, files, manuscripts, various materials and portraits of the intellectual leaders of England of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. When you cross the threshold, you can’t help but sense, from the atmosphere that pervades the home, that you have stumbled into a hotbed of thought and intellectual inquiry. This wonderful old couple – the best representatives of the nineteenth-century bourgeois intelligentsia – are in their eighties, but they refuse to give in. They read, follow world events, think and write. Beatrice has a particularly bright mind and it seems to me that she has always been the leading force in this rare political, scholarly and literary duumvirate. Returning home from the Webbs, I almost always carry away with me some interesting idea or some curious, if perhaps questionable, generalization.
On this occasion I recall the following observations made by Beatrice.
The first: on Chamberlain’s change of policy. There is nothing surprising about this. Chamberlain is a typical English business man. The defining feature of a business man is his fundamentally opportunistic character. If a business man sets himself a definite aim (to conquer the market, to build a factory, to buy a plot of land, etc.) he first resorts to some known method. If experience shows that this method is not leading him to his objective, the business man will try another method, even if it flatly contradicts the first. The business man will have no psychological difficulties, no qualms of conscience or inner discomfort in making this change. In him it is a natural, organic process. All this applies fully to Chamberlain. His goal is to protect the Empire. At first he tried to achieve this by striking a deal with Hitler and Mussolini against the USSR. It didn’t come off. Now he is trying to achieve the same objective by striking a deal with the USSR against Hitler and Mussolini. There is nothing strange or surprising about this: it is the essence of the English business man. Beatrice Webb draws the following conclusion from this: Chamberlain’s turn is meant most seriously in the given circumstances, but he may retreat or even change his course entirely at any moment, should the circumstances assume a different character.
The second: on the future of the Labour Party. The Labour Party had a good hand after Munich, but played it terribly. If Labour had presented a united front after Munich, it, together with the Liberals and oppositional Conservatives, would be in power today. Chamberlain would have been defeated. But instead, Labour attacked the idea of a united front, expelled Cripps and others, and fell out with the Liberals. In the meantime, Chamberlain changed his foreign policy and left Labour without its trump card. Chamberlain’s position is now


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solid, and Labour should count itself lucky to retain its present standing at the next election. However, a chance may still present itself to Labour in the future. If a tripartite alliance is concluded, the situation in Europe should change drastically. The armaments race may come to an end, and limitations will be imposed instead, perhaps even a reduction. The consequence would probably be wide unemployment and the aggravation of domestic economic problems. The Labour Party would then have a chance of winning at the expense of the Tories.
Beatrice Webb is not right on all points. She misses some important factors in her reasoning. Nonetheless, her arguments are interesting and provide food for+ thought.
12 June
I made the following statement to Halifax today:
The text of the statement is in English.
I am instructed by my government to convey to you the following message: (1) The Soviet government takes note of the decision of the British government to send Mr Strang to Moscow. (2) In order to avoid any misunderstanding the Soviet government deems it necessary to state that the problem of the three Baltic States is


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now the problem without satisfactory solution of which our negotiations cannot be brought to a successful conclusion. The security of the NW borders of the USSR by the guaranty of common resistance to a direct or indirect aggression against Estonia, Latvia and Finland on the part of the three contracting parties is indispensable condition of agreement. This opinion of the S[oviet] G[overnment] was fully endorsed only a few days ago by the Supreme Council (Soviet parliament) and is being unanimously supported by the public opinion of the country.
(3) In connection with the question of three Baltic States I have to point out that in the view of the S[oviet] G[overnment] the crux of the problem consists not in the skilful drafting of an ingenious formula which might look admirably on the paper but be of a very little use in practical application. The main thing is to get an agreement on the substance of the problem, i.e. on the common resistance of the three contracting parties to a direct or indirect aggression against Estonia, Latvia and Finland. Given such an agreement it would be not very difficult to find a suitable formula. (4) With regard to the point 6 of the last Soviet proposals, concerning the simultaneous entry into force of the political and military agreements, I am instructed to say that this question could be settled in the process of negotiations.
…Strang was present during this part of our conversation. Halifax wrote down everything I said. He appeared to be pleased and asked whether an identical statement had been made to the French government in Paris. As I could not give him a definite answer, Halifax said he would himself communicate my message to the French.
Halifax made two comments of his own. First, that it is correct that the substance is more important than the formula, but it is still impossible to do without a formula. As for the substance, while the British government recognizes the lawfulness of our wish for a triple guarantee against direct or indirect aggression in the Baltic States, it wants this right to be exercised in such a way as not to antagonize the Baltic countries. Strang has not been supplied with a rigid ‘formula’ in this respect, but he and Seeds have been given full authority to find ways of reaching an agreement with the Soviet government on the spot, while taking into account the general British standpoint. Halifax hopes that they will succeed. Secondly, might our doubts about paragraph 6 of the most recent Soviet proposals (whereby the pact and the military convention will enter into force simultaneously) possibly be dispelled if a definite date is set for the opening of military negotiations?


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I didn’t take Halifax up on these points and merely noted that all these questions would probably come under discussion in Moscow.
Then Strang, who was in a rush to catch his flight, got up and left, and Halifax and I continued our conversation. I asked Halifax how he saw matters developing over the summer. Halifax replied that he expected major problems in July and August, as Hitler would certainly wish to bring trophies with him to Nuremberg. But if the ‘peace front’ held firm, he would have no trophies. I ventured to suggest that even if a tripartite bloc were organized in the near future, Hitler would undoubtedly attempt to test its solidity in some new European crisis. However, were the Germans to be beaten during this ‘test’ (if not in the military, then at least in the political sense), it would give Hitler something to think about when drawing up future plans. Halifax agreed with me.
Then I remarked, as if in passing, that I did not quite understand why Halifax had deemed it necessary to deliver Thursday’s speech (8 June) at this particular time.
Halifax said that if Germany was prepared to discuss ‘a real settlement’, the British government ‘would advocate it’ so long as it was achieved through negotiations and without recourse to force; Hansard, HL Deb 8 June 1939, vol. 113, col. 361.
It struck me as premature.
Somewhat embarrassed, Halifax defended himself by claiming that his speech was well balanced, that its harsh and soft notes were distributed more or less fairly, and that its main purpose was to counter Goebbels’
Paul Joseph Goebbels, Nazi Reich minister for propaganda and national enlightenment, 1933–45.
propaganda about the alleged ‘encirclement’ of Germany, propaganda which had unfortunately struck a chord in German hearts. There could be no question of returning to appeasement.
I replied that English radio would be a far more effective weapon against Goebbels’ propaganda. Halifax agreed and said that as it happened he would be meeting a BBC representative tomorrow to discuss the broadening and deepening of radio propaganda in German.
‘In any case,’ I concluded, ‘your last speech has already given rise to all manner of speculation which it would have been wiser to avoid.’
‘I tend to agree,’ Halifax responded, ‘that it might have been better to postpone my speech till the end of our talks with you. Unfortunately, we English parliamentarians sometimes have to speak not when we find it expedient, but when parliamentary circumstances require.’
Before leaving, I dropped a gentle hint that it would be good for Halifax to visit Moscow and that a warm welcome would be waiting for him there. My hint fell on fertile soil. True, Halifax began making conventional excuses to do with the international situation, which ties him to London, but I could see that he liked my idea. He promised to think it over.


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The British were obviously offended by Potemkin’s no-show in Geneva. Voroshilov’s refusal to come over to attend the British manoeuvres also stung them.
Maisky was not impressed by Halifax’s attempt to puff up Strang, letting him know through Ewer of the Daily Herald that Strang was not ‘big enough’. He believed that the stiff demands of Molotov were ‘an “acid test” of the bona fides’ of the British government, which could be restored if Halifax were to proceed to Moscow; TNA FO 371 23068 C8701/3356/18; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, docs. 359, 361 & 367, exchanges between Maisky and Molotov, 8, 10 & 12 June 1939.
Halifax’s speech on 8 June was undoubtedly motivated by the desire to shake a fist at us for our unyielding approach in the negotiations. But I still think that, barring extraordinary circumstances, Halifax will go to Moscow.
[Maisky’s memoirs, which give a far more detailed (yet highly tendentious) account of the meeting than either his diary or his official report home, reveal his practice of exceeding Molotov’s laconic instructions ‘to drop a hint’ that Halifax would be welcome in Moscow. This is also expanded in his conversation with Eden, on 13 October 1941, revealing that if the Cabinet had endorsed the idea, he would ‘have been able to arrange a formal invitation to Halifax from the Soviet Government’. Maisky in fact pleaded with Halifax at length ‘that a great deal depends on you personally … If you were to agree immediately, this week or at latest next, to go to Moscow, to carry the negotiations through to the end there and sign the pact, peace in Europe would be preserved.’ He would later be ‘most anxious’ that the circumstances of his confidential pleading with Halifax would not be divulged.
Dalton papers, II, 3/2, letter from Strabolgi, 20 Sep. 1939.
Convinced, however, that an agreement was around the corner, Maisky preferred at the time to turn a blind eye to Halifax’s diplomatic excuse that although ‘nothing would give [him] greater pleasure’, he could not absent himself from London. He likewise scoffed at Cripps’s proposal to intervene, as he was ‘not at all pessimistic’ and there was ‘no reason to be unduly disturbed’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1401 l.2 & d.973 l.2., 13 &14 July 1939.
A couple of days earlier, Chamberlain had dampened Halifax’s initial positive response to the suggestion that Churchill or Eden might proceed to Moscow, arguing that ‘to send either a Minister or an ex-Minister would be the worst of tactics with a hard bargainer like Molotoff’. His genuine concern, though, was that the opposition, which he knew was constantly plotting with Maisky, might use the mission to topple him.


Page 971

Maisky, Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 140–2; TNA FO 371 23068 C8357/3356/18; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 420–1, 10 June 1939. See Maisky’s new narrative, in the making, in Stamford papers, diary, 30 April 1940.
]
16 June
Sir George Paish visited me. He has just returned from Japan, where he spent three weeks studying the state of Japan’s economy and finance. He jabbered something absurd along pacifist, free-trade lines about the need to tell Japan that Britain, France, the USSR and the USA were prepared to grant her a ‘place in the sun’ if she behaved well. He was disappointed when I showed no sympathy with his view.
What Paish told me about Japan’s position was much more interesting. Her gold reserves are dwindling. They amounted to 800 million yen a year ago, 500 million as of 1 January 1939, and 300 million as of 1 May. By the end of 1939, only their memory will remain. Meanwhile, Japan has to import great quantities of iron, oil, cotton, etc. Considering the state of Japan’s industry, trade and finance, Paish believes that the Japanese economic system will collapse as


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early as spring 1940. That is why Japan must find a ‘solution’ to the Chinese war within the next 6–8 months by hook or by crook, or else she is done for.
Would that Paish’s calculations prove true! I’ve heard so many prophecies about an imminent crisis in Japan (as in Germany and Italy), all of which have proved wide of the mark, so I can’t help but be sceptical. Yet there must be a genuine breaking point somewhere. Are we not approaching it in Japan?
17 June
The talks in Moscow started only on 15 June. It is a real ‘round-table conference’: Comrades Molotov and Potemkin on the one side, and Seeds, Strang and Naggiar
Paul-Émile Naggiar, French ambassador to Yugoslavia and China, 1932–39, and to Moscow, 1939–40.
(the French ambassador) on the other. But as yet there is nothing to show for it.
At the first meeting (15 June), the British and the French set out their views and proposed several possible solutions. Despite the warning I gave on 12 June, their rough drafts were such that TASS published a communiqué in the late afternoon describing them as ‘entirely not satisfactory’. The heart of the matter is that the British and the French refuse to satisfy our demands fully concerning guarantees to the Baltic States.
On the 16th another meeting was held, at which C[omrade] Molotov said that, as the talks had shown, the problem of guarantees to small countries from the tripartite bloc was not yet ready to be resolved. Therefore the Soviet government proposed that the problem of guarantees to other countries should be postponed and that for now we should conclude only the tripartite pact between Britain, France and the USSR on mutual assistance in the event of direct aggression against one of these countries.
Molotov disapproved of the ‘disadvantageous’ agreement: ‘It is clear that we shall not go for such a treaty.’ God Krizisa, II, no. 408. Maisky, though, continued to believe that ‘there will be a pact with Moscow which will paralyse Hitler’s will to war’; Webb, diary, 18 June 1939, p. 6669.
The British and the French were shocked and wished to consult their capitals. I think ours was the right move to make, and an ingenious one at that. Of course, the solution proposed by C[omrade] Molotov does not suit our partners at all, but we are right in terms of tactics and substance.
22 June
The British and the French pondered this for a whole five days, and only on the 21st was a new ‘round-table’ meeting held in Moscow.
As was to be expected, the British and the French opted not to discuss our latest proposal (a tripartite pact excluding guarantees to small countries), but to propose a ‘new’ formula about guarantees. However, as was stated yesterday 566in a TASS communiqué, the ‘new’ formula had nothing new in it. Its essence was that while the USSR was supposed to render automatic assistance to Britain and France, should the latter two be drawn into conflict as a result of aggression against a country under their guarantee (Belgium, Greece, Poland, Rumania and Turkey), Britain and France were not obliged to render the same automatic assistance should the USSR be drawn into conflict because of the three Baltic countries (Latvia, Estonia and Finland). Naturally enough, Molotov informed the British and the French today that we found the ‘new’ formula unacceptable…
In the evening, Agniya and I attended a dinner given in our honour by Sir Roderick Jones (head of Reuters). The guest-list was impressive: Samuel Hoare, Vansittart, McKenna
Reginald McKenna, chancellor of the exchequer, 1915–16.
and others, accompanied by their wives. Count von Bernstorff, the former counsellor at the German embassy in London, whom I had encountered here before, in 1932, was also present. The Nazis had subsequently kicked him out of both the embassy and the Foreign Ministry. Today, Bernstorff is head of a Jewish bank in Berlin, which is becoming more and more ‘Aryanized’ owing to the ‘natural’ disappearance of its Jewish owners.
We spoke a lot, of course, about the Anglo-Soviet negotiations, in the course of which Jones’ wife confessed that she was against a tripartite pact, while her husband was for it.
Hoare grabbed me after dinner, drew me aside and asked in a state of great agitation: what could be done to bring our negotiations to a prompt and favourable close?
I answered half in jest: ‘There is a very simple method: to accept the Soviet proposals.’
Hoare began to complain. The British government has already agreed to almost all of our demands. What was wrong with the last formula? It had everything we insisted on, except for direct mention of the Baltic States. This was out of the question since, if the Baltic States were named, Britain and France would have to add Holland and Switzerland to the list, both of whom, terrified by Germany, would renounce the tripartite bloc’s guarantees. Only embarrassment would come of it. Hoare began assuring me with uncharacteristic emotion that the British government really did wish to conclude the talks as soon as possible and to proceed at once with discussing military measures. The British government is prepared to ensure complete equality and reciprocity for the USSR under the pact.
I replied that I was pleased to hear it, but that, alas, the facts did not quite accord with Hoare’s words.


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‘Allow me to cite a minor but very telling calculation,’ I continued. ‘The Anglo-Soviet negotiations in the full sense of the term (i.e. from 15 April, when the British proposals were presented to us) have been ongoing for 67 days. The Soviet government has spent 16 of these days preparing its replies to various British plans and proposals; the remaining 51 days have been taken up with delays and procrastination on the British side. Who, then, is responsible for the slow pace of the talks?’
Hoare, who’d clearly not been expecting such an incontrovertible argument, was a little confused and mumbled something about being unfamiliar with the figures I had cited. Then he hastened to change horses. Among the Conservatives, he said, there are already many who are opposed to a bloc with the USSR. Until now, they have kept silent and tacitly supported the government. But protracted negotiations that yield no concrete results are grist to the mill of the enemies of an agreement. In the last couple of days, they have been raising their heads above the parapet. If we don’t conclude the agreement within a few days, it might be broken off for good. Those who object to the pact may play a fateful role. Hoare finished his tirade with the exclamation: ‘It’s now or never!’


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I laughed and replied that we couldn’t be scared so easily. I found it hard to believe in the devil which Hoare had sketched for me. Britain and France need a mutual assistance pact very much. They need it no less, and probably far more, than the USSR.
Hoare stuttered again and beat a retreat. He pressed upon me once more the British government’s sincere desire to reach an agreement. The British government bears no grudge against us. It is not going to conclude any kind of agreement with Germany behind our back. Hoare himself has been firmly in favour of an agreement with the USSR ever since the seizure of Prague, and he would consider it the greatest misfortune if mutual suspicion, which cannot be denied and has to be reckoned with, dashes the only hope of averting war.
I shrugged my shoulders and said: ‘We want an agreement now, just as we did before. But we want a genuine agreement capable of preventing war, not a halfway house. Where we end up depends on you, the English.’
23 June
Halifax invited me over and started complaining bitterly: we were creating unnecessary difficulties, we were absolutely unyielding, we were using the German method of negotiation (offering our price and demanding 100% acceptance), and as a result we were delaying the conclusion of the agreement and dealing a heavy blow to the cause of European peace. Halifax ended his bitter outburst with a direct question: ‘Do you or don’t you want an agreement?’


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I looked at Halifax in astonishment and replied that I did not find it possible even to discuss such a question. The foreign secretary’s complaints struck me as entirely unfounded. I supplied Halifax with the same statistics that had produced such a strong impression on Hoare yesterday. The arrow hit the mark this time as well. Halifax became confused and, trying to conceal his feelings, commented with a forced laugh: ‘Of course 16 days were enough for you: it doesn’t take much time to keep saying “no”!’
‘Excuse me, Lord Halifax,’ I retorted, ‘the Soviet government did not just say “no” to you; it also submitted three detailed drafts of counter-proposals.’
Halifax decided not to continue the argument and moved on to the last two talks (21 and 22 June) with C[omrade] Molotov in Moscow. He confessed that, despite the large quantity of telegrams he had received from Seeds and Strang, he couldn’t quite grasp what the problem was. Why weren’t we satisfied with the last British formula which, in his view, covers all possible cases of aggression in the Baltic? Why did we insist on naming the three Baltic States in the agreement? Could I not clarify in greater detail the Soviet point of view?
I answered that negotiations were being held in Moscow, and that I was not up to date with their every detail. If Halifax was perplexed or had doubts, the best approach was to seek clarification in Moscow. Halifax obviously did not like my reply, but there was nothing he could do.
I then asked Halifax why he objected so stubbornly to the naming of the Baltic States in the agreement. Halifax referred for the hundredth time to the ‘reluctance’ of these states to receive guarantees from anyone and, as his trump card, declared that he knew of no precedent in history when guarantees had been imposed on a country that did not request them.
I replied that I was far from convinced about the strength of the Baltic States’ ‘reluctance’. It was more likely that Latvia, Estonia and Finland did not want to ask for guarantees themselves for various reasons, but would not have anything against guarantees being ‘imposed’ on them by the powers of the tripartite bloc.
‘As for the absence of a corresponding precedent,’ I continued, ‘I cannot agree with you. First, it is not forbidden to establish new precedents. Secondly, it’s not true that there have been no such precedents in history. Please recall the Monroe doctrine. The USA declared unilaterally in 1823 that they would regard any attempt by members of the Holy Alliance to extend “their system” to South America as a threat to their security and welfare. Why can’t the three great powers of Europe in 1939 do something similar in respect of the three Baltic States?’
For the English, precedent is everything. My words made a definite impression on Halifax, but first he tried to laugh them off: ‘So you would like us to initiate a Monroe doctrine for Europe?’
‘Not for Europe,’ I replied in the same tone, ‘but at least for the Baltics.’


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Halifax shrugged his shoulders. Will he draw the appropriate practical conclusions, with all the ensuing consequences, from my appeal to the memory of Monroe? I don’t know. At every step of the conversation I could sense Halifax’s annoyance and displeasure.
Maisky himself was unsettled by the rigid Soviet stance and embarrassed by Halifax, who reminded him that in Geneva Maisky had assured him that, if his government accepted the principle of a treaty of mutual assistance, ‘the rest would be easy’. This, Halifax concluded, ‘had certainly not been the case’; see Halifax’s report in TNA FO 371 23069 C8979/3356/18. In his memoirs Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 149–50 Maisky again constructs an apologetic and anachronistic narrative which misleads his readers to assume that he is actually quoting from his diary.
[Maisky’s claim in his diary that the triple alliance was a viable alternative to the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact should be examined against the backdrop of the ongoing German–Soviet negotiations, about which he was not informed. Examination of the protracted Soviet–German negotiations of 1939 casts doubt on the notion that the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact was signed under duress, in the absence of any alternative, at the twelfth hour. True, on his appointment as foreign minister, Molotov does not seem to have received any explicit instructions to change the course of policy and seek political rapprochement with Germany. For the moment, the alternatives remained a full-fledged agreement with the West or isolation. Both policies had been endorsed by Litvinov. The obvious advantage of isolation for the Soviet Union was its ability to preserve its newly acquired position as holder of the balance of power, by delaying choosing for as long as possible. And yet a retreat into ‘isolation’ was also a convenient cloak under which alternatives could be cultivated. Alas, the relevant archival material remains under lock and key in Moscow. By the time of Molotov’s appointment, the bankruptcy of collective security had been conceded and the new prospects in Germany recognized. Earlier in the year, Litvinov himself had intimated to Nahum Goldman,
Nahum Goldman, founder, with Stephen S. Wise, of the World Jewish Congress and one of the earliest to warn of the threat posed by Hitler.
the Zionist leader, that if he ever read in the newspapers about Litvinov’s dismissal ‘it would mean a rapprochement between Fascist Germany and the Soviet Union and an approaching war’.
Quoted in Fleischhauer, Pakt, 407–8. A succinct but insightful historiographical survey of the issue is in M.J. Carley, ‘Soviet foreign policy in the West, 1936–1941: A review article’, Europe-Asia Studies, 56/7 (2004). See also Carley, ‘End of the “low, dishonest decade”’; G. Roberts, ‘On Soviet–German relations: The debate continues’, Europe-Asia Studies, 50/8 (1998); J. Haslam, ‘Stalin and the German invasion of Russia 1941: A failure of reasons of state?’, International Affairs, 76/1 (2000).
Soviet policies were examined by the ‘men of Munich’ through an ideologically tinted prism. Likewise, Stalin’s decision to consider the German option emerged from an obsessive suspicion that Britain and France were resolved to divert Hitler eastwards. The decision was further sustained by cold calculations concerning the economic and military benefits to be reaped from such an agreement. As early as July 1938, State Secretary Weizsäcker asked Merekalov about Soviet ‘concrete plans and offers’ for expanding economic collaboration with Germany. The Politburo responded favourably only in December, in the wake of the Munich Agreement. Though the economic negotiations made strides in January 1939, Stalin suspected that Hitler’s overtures were mainly aimed at undermining the tripartite negotiations and encouraging the West to extend the scope of the Munich Agreement. He therefore discouraged Schnurre,
Karl Schnurre, the architect of the economic cooperation established between the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany after the signing of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact.
the head of the East European economic department of the German Foreign Ministry, from visiting Moscow.
In early May, Hitler issued Operation Weiss, the directive for the attack on Poland. Within a week, Stalin was given detailed information about the German designs by military intelligence. The report reinforced Merekalov’s assessment that, in the intervening period before he embarked on the offensive, Hitler would seek Soviet


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neutrality. Stalin was little swayed by the report – ‘contradictory and unreliable cypher telegram’, he commented. Marking time, he instructed Mikoyan on 12 May to ignore ‘the unserious’ new German economic proposals. The Kremlin’s persistent suspicion of collusion between Britain and Germany is discernible in a twelve-page detailed memorandum (which had hitherto eluded historians) submitted to Molotov on 15 May. Bearing the title ‘English diplomacy’s dark manoeuvre in August 1914’, it sought to demonstrate how the events of that period ‘resemble very closely the manoeuvre of May 1939’. While scanning it attentively, Molotov underlined numerous references to the alleged British consent in 1914 to remain neutral and to guarantee France’s passivity if Germany diverted the war eastwards. His misgivings and scepticism concerning the ‘humiliating’ British proposals for a triple alliance were apparent in correspondence with both Maisky and Surits.
RGASPI, Molotov papers, f.82 op.2 d.1140 ll.166–8 & 173–84.
It seems that the reason the Politburo continued to pursue negotiations was fear of facing Germany in the future, allied to Poland, and with Britain and France neutralized.
See Haslam, ‘The Soviet Union and the Czechoslovakian crisis of 1938’, p. 444.
Schnurre, however, persevered and informed Astakhov on 15 May that Germany entertained ‘no aggressive intentions towards the USSR’ and sought measures ‘to remove [Soviet] mistrust’. The deep-seated Soviet suspicion that the German overtures were ‘a kind of game’ aimed at driving a wedge between Moscow and London was reaffirmed during Molotov’s meeting with Schulenburg, the German ambassador in Moscow, on 20 May. The way to overcome this mistrust, Molotov asserted, was through the establishment of a proper ‘political basis’. Schulenburg picked up the gauntlet, reminding the Russians that the 1926 treaty of neutrality, reaffirmed in 1931, had never been annulled. A week later, Astakhov was reassured by Schnurre, speaking on behalf of Hitler, that Germany harboured no aggressive intentions towards Russia. In a follow-up meeting with Weizsäcker, initiated by Astakhov on 30 May, the state secretary confirmed that ideological differences should not be an obstacle to the normalization of relations. Astakhov further gleaned from a variety of sources that if the Soviet Union were to dissociate itself from England and France, the Germans might be prepared to come to an arrangement concerning ‘a division of spheres of influence’.
In early June, as the Soviet draft treaty was being submitted to London, in a rare move Stalin sent Molotov handwritten instructions to find out whether the Germans intended to respond to the Soviet proposals, as he could ‘not accept that negotiations were again interrupted unexpectedly by the Germans and for unknown reasons’. Stalin provided guidelines for the negotiations and supplied a list of required commodities, including vital military items, which was obviously aimed at testing German intentions.
G. Roberts, in ‘The Soviet decision for a pact with Nazi Germany’, Soviet Studies, 44/1 (1992), covers the negotiations well, though mainly from the perspective of the diplomatic exchanges. He attributes the progress that was made entirely to Germany, and dates Stalin’s decision to opt for Germany, a reactive policy, to the end of July 1939. It is obvious from the material pieced together here (and Bezymenskii’s unique access to the presidential archives) that the courting was mutual and continuous and originated with the dramatic meeting in the Kremlin on 22 April.
On 19 June, Stalin received an intelligence report emanating from General Kleist’s
Paul Ewald von Kleist, field marshal, was commander of the First Panzer Group fighting in the Ukraine in 1941 and was charged with the capture of the Baku oil fields in 1942.
headquarters that Hitler was determined to solve the Polish question at all costs – even if he risked fighting on two fronts. The report further confirmed the information provided by Merekalov at the crucial Kremlin meeting in April, that Hitler was counting on Moscow to ‘conduct negotiations with us, as she had no interest whatsoever in a conflict with Germany, nor was she anxious to be defeated for the sake of England and France’. Hitler, it concluded, now believed that ‘a new Rapallo stage should be achieved in German–Russian relations’, at least for a limited period of time.


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The information was confirmed by intercepts of Schulenburg’s telegrams to Berlin.
TsAMO op.9157 d.2 ll.2, 11, 418–31, 447, 453 & 454.
Stalin also gleaned from Puˇrvan Draganov, the Bulgarian ambassador in Berlin, that the idea of an agreement advantageous to both sides would be favourably received in the German capital.
Steiner, The Triumph of the Dark, p. 892.
]
25 June
We visited Beaverbrook at his country house.
Beaverbrook was greatly alarmed, which is quite unlike him. He says that war is inevitable, that it will probably begin in the autumn, and that Danzig must be seen as its likely starting point. Germany has stepped up its war preparations. Ribbentrop is at the height of his influence. He has convinced Hitler that Britain and France will be not drawn into war at any price and that nothing will come of the Anglo-Soviet negotiations. The Germans are behind the blockade of Tianjin. They wish to test the mood of the British via the Far East. Ribbentrop has reached the conclusion that the British are not capable of serious resistance – so, strike while the iron is hot!
Beaverbrook also said that Ribbentrop has sent personal letters to many prominent Englishmen, inviting them to visit Germany and meet the Führer. Beaverbrook himself has received such a letter, but he will not go.
28 June
Dalton, Morrison and Citrine met the prime minister today on behalf of Labour’s National Council and expressed deep concern about the delays in the Anglo-Soviet talks. They spent a long time proving to Chamberlain that the international situation was very threatening indeed, that the impending war could only be stopped through the signing of a tripartite alliance, and that the pact was therefore urgently required.
The prime minister, following his usual practice when speaking to Labourites, started expanding on the theme of how he, too, wished to conclude the agreement as soon as possible, but observed, as he often does, that the Russians ‘are very difficult’ and that Moscow was to be blamed for the delay. The Labourites, however, were expecting this tactic (they were very familiar with the ‘calendar’ of the negotiations),
Dalton was briefed by Maisky, but his intervention with Chamberlain led nowhere. Although the prime minister was aware of the political damage that would ensue from a collapse of the negotiations, he still said ‘in his flat, obstinate way, “Well, I don’t think that would be the end of the world”’. Chamberlain was sure he had ‘succeeded at last in convincing [the delegation] that we had done all we could to get an agreement’; Pimlott, Political Diary of Hugh Dalton, pp. 272–8; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 168, 2 July 1939.
so Chamberlain’s complaints hardly impressed them. In conclusion, the prime minister informed the delegation that new instructions had been sent to Seeds, which ‘in essence accept all the Soviet proposals’. Chamberlain assured the delegation that on or before the 30th (Friday), or on 3 July (Monday) at the latest, he would be able to greet parliament with news of the signing of the agreement.


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The Labourites left feeling reassured.
I don’t like all this one bit. The British government accepts the Soviet proposals ‘in essence’ – what does this mean? I know from personal experience that the English word ‘essence’ has a treacherous meaning. Furthermore, why did the prime minister need to assure the delegation so forcefully that agreement was already guaranteed? Might he not have done so in order to increase Labour’s disappointment when Chamberlain proves unable to bring them good news either on the 30th [June] or on the 3rd [July], thus making it easier for him to lay the blame for a new delay at the door of the USSR?
We shall see. The prime minister’s conversation today with the Labourites looks very much like preliminary indoctrination of the opposition.
29 June
[The diary carries an article by Zhdanov, published in Pravda on that day under the title ‘The British and French Governments Do Not Want an Equal Agreement with the USSR’. Pointing out that negotiations had reached an impasse, Zhdanov repeated Maisky’s now well-worn warning that the Soviet Union would not pull the chestnuts out of the fire


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for the West. The article was shot through with a lingering suspicion that the Western powers were not really interested in an agreement, but were spreading the word about Soviet obstinacy so as to ‘prepare public opinion in their countries for an eventual deal with the aggressors’.
SPE, doc. 355.
]
30 June
[Attached to the diary is a cartoon by David Low.]
1 July
We spent yesterday in Canterbury as guests of the Dean of Canterbury (Dr Hewlett Johnson).
Hewlett Johnson, dean of Canterbury, 1931–63.
His 65 years notwithstanding, the dean recently married a young artist aged 35, his student. True, the dean is still full of life, energy and panache, even though he is nearly bald and the hair that remains (down the sides) is the bright colour of senile silver. But the English take a different view of such things to us Russians. Just the other day, I read in a newspaper that an 89-year-old lord has married a widow of 45. And such an occurrence is no exception.
The deans of English cathedrals don’t do too badly! Dr Johnson has a splendid house, servants, a car, a wonderful garden and, of course, a quite ‘decent’ income. There is a Roman wall in the garden, which is about fifteen hundred years old and along which we walked calmly and comfortably with our hosts. The Romans really knew how to build!
The surroundings of the Dean’s residence are steeped in history. The cathedral dates back to the twelfth century and its construction was definitively completed in the fifteenth century. Since then there have been no major changes. The dean’s house is nearly 700 years old. It was ‘modernized’, the dean told me, in the year 1583! With a wide sweep of his arm, the host pointed to a portrait on the wall in the living room – it depicted the notorious sixteenth-century ‘modernizer’ in the attire and regalia of his time. All the walls in the house are covered with portraits of the dean’s predecessors: following established tradition, each new dean adds his portrait to the ancient collection. Dr Johnson has already done his duty: his portrait, done by his own wife, already hangs in the stairway on the second floor. In the garden, we came across a small fountain of unusual design, and I asked the dean whether it had been there a long time. Dr Johnson shrugged his shoulders and replied almost apologetically: ‘Oh, no more than two hundred years.’


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In spite of all this antiquity, the dean is a perfectly contemporary man. Strolling about the garden we chatted on various philosophical subjects, and the dean confessed to me that the question of the afterlife was unclear to him: maybe it exists, or maybe it doesn’t. An equal number of arguments can be adduced for and against, so the dean considers the issue a moot point.
What he is in no doubt about is that our life on earth must be made better, more beautiful and noble for as many people as possible. Such, in his opinion, is the true essence of true Christianity. This, too, is Dr Johnson’s personal aim in life. Seen from that perspective, not only Germany and Italy, but also England and the United States are not Christian countries. In general, the true essence of true Christianity cannot be realized under capitalism. This is possible only under socialism or, still better, under communism. That is why Dr Johnson considers the USSR to be the only truly Christian country in our day. That is why he is so well disposed to the Soviet Union and admires it so much. That is why he makes every effort to disseminate the truth about the USSR among the English masses and, incidentally, devotes so many of his sermons in the cathedral to the USSR. The archbishop of Canterbury has told his dean more than once that he ‘speaks too much about Russia’, but Dr Johnson sticks to his guns…
Such is the philosophy of the current Dean of Canterbury.
Dr Johnson has indeed long been a great friend of the USSR. He spoke in our favour even during difficult times, such as the Metro-Vickers case. He visited the USSR in 1937 and has since made hundreds of enthusiastic speeches about the Soviet Union at hundreds of meetings all over England. He has just finished writing a book about the USSR which is to be published by Gollancz,
Victor Gollancz, educated at St Paul’s and New College, Oxford, he went on to establish a most profitable and successful publishing house bearing his name. His flair for political agitation and publishing found its expression in the promotion of the Left Book Club. A close friend of the Maiskys, he founded (in 1941) and presided over the Anglo-Soviet Public Relations Committee.
with illustrations by the dean’s wife. Dr Johnson headed a delegation of English clergy to Republican Spain and did much to collect funds and raise the popularity of Republican Spain in England and abroad. The name of the Dean of Canterbury was mentioned in Nuremberg, and Goebbels asked indignantly: is there no way of making that dean shut up?
Dr Johnson is certainly a very interesting and typically English figure. Listening to him, you begin to understand better the role of religion in English life, along with such whims of history as, for example, Reverend Stephens, the famous leader of the Chartists.
***
Dr Johnson comes from the family of an ordinary Manchester business man. As a child, he told me, he lived a comfortable life, but a simple one, without


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luxury. There were six children in the family. At an early age he was greatly impressed by one Scottish engineer who became a missionary and went to live among black people in Africa. That engineer became for him an object of admiration and imitation. But Johnson’s father went broke, and the son had to look for a job in industry. He became a mechanical engineer and worked as such till the age of 27, when he was again carried away by dreams of religious service to others, but in a somewhat different form than before. Working in industry, Johnson encountered the world of workers and was deeply influenced by socialist tendencies. Having made up his mind to become a priest, Johnson was now thinking not so much of black Africans as of English proletarians. He was first appointed to a parish in Manchester – a parish of millionaires, as fate would have it! This gave him the chance to study close-up the opposite stratum of society. At the same time, it caused him many problems, conflicts and struggles. During the term of the first Labour government, Johnson was appointed dean of Manchester Cathedral (deans are appointed by the Crown on the prime minister’s recommendation). When the second Labour government came to power, he was appointed dean of Canterbury Cathedral. He has been occupying this post for eight years now. How long will he stay? It’s difficult to say. For the dean’s position is a job for life.
Though in a state of despair, Maisky continued to believe in a pact with England. When asked ‘point blank’ by Johnson whether he expected a pact to be concluded, he ‘looked serious and said, “I think not before the war but I think you will after the war”’; TNA FO 800/322, p. 330, Johnson to Halifax, 25 Oct. 1939. Johnson was little deterred by


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the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, conveying to Maisky ‘the deep interest and sympathy and encouragement’ with which he was following Soviet policy; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1337 l.10. See Maisky’s sympathetic portrait of Johnson in VSD, pp. 206–11.
2 July
Garvin writes in today’s Observer in connection with Halifax’s speech of 29 June:
For the whole Defence Front the acid test is Danzig. What is that? Is it a small and local matter as uninstructed error might suppose? Not so. It is the key to issues reaching far and wide; it involves undoubtedly the fate of all Poland and much more, the British Empire not excluded; for it is the touchstone of all our pledges, the criterion of our courage and probity in all respects, the critical point of our entire diplomatic system. Failure and discredit in this connection would disband the Peace Front. The consequence would be British isolation, and not merely that but isolation with ignominy. European surrender would have to be followed by Imperial surrender.
The Gospel truth!
A month and a half ago, I wrote down similar thoughts here about the consequences for England and the British Empire if the British government betrayed its obligations towards Poland and Rumania. Garvin, a most competent man in these matters, has corroborated my thoughts.


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4 July
My scepticism concerning the Moscow talks has proved justified.
Indeed, Seeds and others told C[omrade] Molotov on 1 July that they accepted the naming of countries to be guaranteed by the tripartite bloc, but not in the basic agreement itself – only in a secret appendix.
Then two new complications emerged:
(1) The British and the French have demanded that three more countries – Holland, Luxembourg and Switzerland – be added to the list of guaranteed states. Thus, the number of the tripartite bloc’s ‘children’ has grown to eleven at the last minute! True, our partners did mention Holland and Switzerland at the meeting of 21 June, but only now have they raised the matter in all seriousness.
(2) We suggested defining the term ‘indirect aggression’ and proposed our formula, which the British and the French objected to.
On 3 July C[omrade] Molotov gave our reply to the proposal made by our partners.
We agreed to name the guaranteed countries in an appendix, but expressed our surprise at the fact that, while all previous negotiations had been based on there being only eight ‘children’, the number had now suddenly leapt to eleven. Being willing to compromise, we were ready to include Holland and Switzerland in the list of guaranteed countries, but on one condition: since their inclusion meant an extension of our obligations, we considered ourselves justified in demanding a corresponding extension of the guarantees of our security, in the form of mutual assistance pacts to be concluded between the Soviet Union on the one side and Turkey and Poland on the other. In addition we proposed, without detriment to the immediacy of aid in the cases stipulated by the pact, to hold a consultation of the ‘big three’ whenever the probability arose of the obligations of mutual assistance needing to be implemented. We also proposed a regular exchange of information concerning the international situation and an outline of the avenues of mutual diplomatic support in the interests of peace. Finally, we firmly insisted that it was essential to find a satisfactory formula for ‘indirect aggression’.
Now it’s the turn of the British and the French. Needless to say, a break of several days will ensue.
[Molotov was now more resolute, indicating that the scant hopes still entertained for an agreement were quickly evaporating. He had already told Maisky that the British proposals were ‘a repetition of the previous proposal’, and had to be ‘rejected as unacceptable’.
God Krizisa, II, no. 340, Molotov to Maisky, 23 June 1939.
To allay the Soviet fear that the main British object was ‘to trap them into commitments and then leave them in the lurch’, Halifax swayed the Committee on Foreign Policy on 26 June to accept the Soviet demands to extend guarantees to all the Baltic States. ‘We are going to the furthest limit,’ observed Cadogan in his diary, ‘without any very sure hope – on my part – that the dirty sweeps will respond.’ At the other end, Molotov dug in his heels. He referred to the British negotiators as ‘crooks


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and cheats’ who were resorting to ‘clumsy tricks’. He was now determined to extract a watertight agreement from either the British or the Germans.
Carley, 1939, p. 166; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 190; God Krizisa, II, nos. 340 & 361, Molotov to Maisky, 3 July 1939; SPE, doc. 377.
]
5 July
For the past couple of weeks, a major campaign for an immediate government reshuffle has been waged behind the scenes in parliament. Strange as it may sound, the campaign is being led by none other than the Cliveden Set, the Astors, Lothian and Co. Their supporters in the Cabinet are Halifax, Stanley and Kingsley Wood. The ‘rebels’ plan to remove Runciman, Stanhope and Maugham
Frederic Herbert Maugham (1st Viscount Maugham), lord chancellor of Great Britain, 1938–39.
from the Cabinet and replace them with Churchill, Eden, and Amery or Trenchard.
Hugh Montague Trenchard (1st Viscount Trenchard), resigned from his post as marshal of the Royal Air Force, which he had founded, in 1928; commissioner of the Metropolitan Police from 1931–35; rejected various offers from Chamberlain and Churchill to resume his military career.
The Observer of 2 July demanded a radical shake-up in government. Still more significantly, the Daily Telegraph devoted an editorial (3 July) to the same theme. The demand for a reshuffle is motivated by the worsening international situation in connection with Danzig and Poland in general.
Although events undoubtedly demand a reshaping of government, I remain rather sceptical about the prospects of this campaign (how many have there been now?) despite the ‘brilliant’ names of its leaders. I’ve heard so many times that ‘it can’t go on like this’, that ‘Chamberlain is skating on thin ice’, that a reshuffle is already well under way, that a list of new ministers is being compiled somewhere in some decision-making centre – and yet nothing has changed. Chamberlain doesn’t care a straw, and Churchill is still in his favourite corner below the gangway. I’m afraid the same will happen this time, too: people will kick up a fuss, talk a lot, get worked up, and the government will remain as it was. I am more and more convinced that the English elite will grant Churchill power only on the day after war is declared. It is not without reason that Mrs Chamberlain told her husband the other day that ‘an invitation to Churchill to enter the Cabinet would be tantamount to your political suicide’.
It’s a pity, for were Churchill to enter government today, war could still be averted.
Chamberlain was convinced that the ‘drive’ to include Churchill in the government was a conspiracy ‘in which Mr Maisky has been involved’. He was furious about an article published by the Daily Mail on 5 July, following a long talk between its correspondent and Randolph Churchill, who had just met Maisky. The article announced that ‘Churchill’s early return to the Cabinet … is certain.’ In his communications with Moscow, Maisky continued to hope for change. A year later, Maisky explained in the course of a private conversation that the negotiations would have been successful if Churchill had been prime minister; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, p. 426, 8 July 1939; Gilbert, The Coming of War, pp. 1556–7; DVP, 1939, XXII/1, fn. 147; Stamford papers, diary, 18 July 1941.
6 July
Halifax invited me over.
He began, of course, with complaints about the slow pace of the talks, obviously hinting that we were principally to blame. I parried his objections with little difficulty. Then Halifax told me that he had received a protest from


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the Finns, who strongly objected to the proposed guarantees from the tripartite bloc; that he could not understand our additional conditions (mutual assistance pacts with Turkey and Poland) in exchange for the guarantees to Switzerland and Holland, since these countries were for Britain and France what the Baltic States were for us; and, finally, that our formula of ‘indirect aggression’ was too broad and dangerous: it opened the door to interference in the internal affairs of friendly nations. Britain would like to avoid the mere possibility of being accused of anything like that.
I chuckled a little at the Balts’ loud claims about not wanting guarantees. Of course, they pretend not to want them from various considerations, but if the guarantees were to be implemented, they would be pleased at heart. Moreover: if and when the tripartite pact becomes a powerful force, the small countries will be queuing up for its guarantees.
In conclusion, Halifax said that the British government wished to make yet another, final attempt to reach agreement with us on the question of guarantees. If this attempt should fail, the British and the French would confine themselves for the present to a simple tripartite mutual assistance pact, effective in the event of direct aggression against one of the signatories.
Halifax is trying to scare us. A simple tripartite pact suits neither Britain nor France. London is bargaining. We shall bargain, too.
7 July
We had an interesting dinner. Beaverbrook was the main guest. Also present were Keynes, Cronin,
Archibald Cronin, Scottish writer, 1896–1981.
Korda,
Alexander Korda, Hungarian film producer and director who moved to Britain in 1931 to make films at Denham studios. He moved to Hollywood in 1940.
Archibald Sinclair and Harvey
Oliver Charles Harvey, personal secretary to Eden and Halifax, 1936–39.
, Halifax’s private secretary – all accompanied by their wives. Sinclair’s wife cast her gaze around the table during dinner and exclaimed: ‘What a crowd you’ve assembled! The most refined intellectual gourmets.’
Lopukhova (Keynes’ wife) drank too much and conducted herself far too ‘freely’. The rest behaved all right.
After dinner I showed my guests Professor Mamlock,
The film, directed by Herbert Rappaport, was one of the earliest indictments of the German persecution of Jews. Shot in 1938, the film is now considered to be the first presentation of the holocaust on the screen.
which greatly impressed them.
Cronin complained – it has almost become his idée fixe – that OGIZ [Russian Association of State Book and Journal Publishers] was publishing translations of his books in millions of copies, without paying him a single kopeck.


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12 July
Meetings were held again in Moscow on 8 and 9 July, but their details are still a little unclear to me. One thing is certain – three points remain disputed: (1) the ‘indirect aggression’ formula, (2) guarantees to Holland and Switzerland, and (3) the simultaneous implementation of the pact and the military convention. We strongly insist on the latter point…
Halifax summoned me again today. In the process of ‘informing’ me about the course of negotiations, he said that, after discussing Seeds’ reports on the meetings held on 8 and 9 July, the British government had resolved that for the time being it would not insist on including Switzerland and Holland in the list of guaranteed countries. The British government was prepared to be satisfied with consultation in the event of a threat of aggression against these countries. But as far as ‘indirect aggression’ was concerned, the British government would adhere to its former formula. Otherwise it ‘fears driving the Baltics into the Germans’ embrace’. With regard to the simultaneous implementation of the pact and the military convention, the British government would most probably raise no objections. Paris, however, was of a different opinion. Paris was very eager to sign a political pact right now and then immediately to begin military negotiations. Later, Halifax added that the British government did not oppose opening military negotiations immediately. Couldn’t the dispute on this matter be resolved by setting dates for both the opening and the closing of military negotiations?
I replied that it was difficult for me to answer his question and that he had better address Moscow on this matter.
In the Court this evening, I asked the Polish ambassador Raczyński, who had just returned from Warsaw, about the chances of war and peace. He answered: fifty-fifty. Nevertheless, Raczyński assured me, Warsaw was calm, resolute and prepared to resist. I asked him: ‘Who decides when the Polish troops occupy Danzig? Poland? Or England and Poland together?’
I had put the same question to Raczyński about a month ago, and then he replied firmly: ‘Poland decides. Britain and France only provide Poland with military aid. True, this was not written down in black and white in the agreement, but it was understood during the negotiations. At any rate, we, the Poles, understand it that way.’
Today Raczyński’s reply had a rather different ring. He said that close contact had been established between Warsaw and London, that the two capitals were exchanging information, and that if important events were to occur in Danzig, the Polish government would certainly consult the British government, and they would, of course, find a common language. Raczyński stressed that Poland


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would avoid taking any ‘provocative steps’; in his view, even a note of protest to the Danzig Senate would represent a ‘provocation’.
The British have obviously managed to take the Poles in hand over the last four or five weeks. Probably by way of financial negotiations.
13 July
The British government is currently conducting a major campaign: rumours are being spread far and wide in the press, parliament, and public and political circles that the Soviet government is acting stubbornly on trifling matters and thereby deliberately dragging out the negotiations; that it is simply ‘playing’ and does not actually wish to conclude a pact. As if the Soviet government were flirting with Hitler and were ready to form a bloc with Germany.
The purpose of the campaign is clear. By sabotaging the talks, Chamberlain wants to make a scapegoat of us. We’ll do our best to ruin his ploy.
In fairness, however, it must be said that the campaign has had a demoralizing effect even on some of our ‘friends’ in Labour and left circles. The committee of the Peace and Friendship Congress sent a delegate to me and we arranged an hour-long meeting in the embassy over the next few days, where I’ll inform the committee members of how things really stand.
As for Labour, it turns out that Greenwood and Dalton visited Halifax yesterday after me. Halifax put the blame for the delay on us and said that two points of disagreement remained in the negotiations: the indirect aggression formula and the simultaneous implementation of the pact and the military convention. The Labourites recognized our formula of indirect aggression as being too ‘dangerous’ and supported the British one. As for the second point, they suggested the following solution to Halifax: the pact would be initialled and published, then military negotiations would begin and end on set dates, after which the whole agreement would be signed and ratified.
As we can see, the government campaign has succeeded in demoralizing Greenwood and Dalton.
The naval minister, Stanhope, who sat next to me at the Pilgrims’ Club dinner on the occasion of Lothian’s appointment as British ambassador to Washington, told me among other things that the whole British navy would be mobilized by 1 August. This is being done to impress Hitler.
14 July
I had lunch in parliament with Lloyd George and his family (Megan and Gwilym). The old man asked me in detail about the state of the negotiations. I


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pointed out the delaying tactics employed by Chamberlain and the ‘calendar’ of the talks. The latter made a strong impression on Lloyd George.
We also talked on general political topics, in the course of which the PM’s current manoeuvring became clear to me. It boils down to the following.
Chamberlain has yet to come to terms with the idea of an Anglo-Soviet pact directed against Germany, and he would be happy to use any appropriate pretext to avoid it. He is now preoccupied by the Danzig problem, which may easily set in motion the entire system of British guarantees. Without Soviet assistance, those guarantees cannot be implemented. What if the Danzig problem could be resolved without a fight? Or if its rapid deterioration could at least be postponed? Then the need to conclude a pact with Moscow would no longer be so pressing. Then the prime minister would gain his long-desired ‘breathing space’, and he would be able to look round, weigh up his chances, judge the circumstances, and perhaps find a way to avoid altogether the pact that he finds so loathsome. Or at least to set it back a few months.
Now Chamberlain is once again engaged in an attempt to resolve the Danzig problem. On the one hand, he is exerting pressure on Warsaw in various ways, in particular through the recent Anglo-Polish financial negotiations, and advising Warsaw to be ‘reasonable’ on the Danzig issue. On the other hand, through various other means – naval mobilization, air demonstrations in France, ‘harsh’ speeches by ministers, etc. – Chamberlain is seeking to exert pressure on Germany, suggesting that she, too, should behave ‘reasonably’ with regard to Danzig. This is how the road is being paved for a new Munich (perhaps a ‘little Munich’) in its Polish variant. It is, moreover, known that the prime minister is using various unofficial channels to sound out the possibility of attempting a new deal with Germany.
Will he succeed? It remains to be seen. I’m inclined to think he won’t. But in any case, these are the plans and ideas that are preoccupying Chamberlain, and even more so Horace Wilson. That is why, by the way, they are being so slow in negotiating. They are still unwilling to take the final step. What if fortune rescues them and they can discard the pact entirely?
On top of that, parliament adjourns on 4 August, and the PM’s hands will be untied. It would then be easier, should it prove possible, to break off the talks with Moscow, pinning all the blame, of course, on us.
Such are Chamberlain’s calculations and hopes. He won’t succeed!
See Maisky’s alarmist message to Molotov, God Krizisa, II, no. 475, 14 July 1939, confirmed by similar impressions from Surits in Paris; SPE, doc. 371.
15 July
These are the sorts of things that go on in the world, and in England in particular.


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[There follows a retraction by the newspaper Forward (Glasgow) of a report it published on 8 July 1939, about an interview allegedly given by Maisky to B. Baxter,
Sir (Arthur) Beverley Baxter, Canadian-born editor-in-chief and director, Daily Express, 1929–33; Conservative MP, 1935–50.
MP.]
As soon as the original false report appeared in Forward (Glasgow), Korzh telegraphed the editor, demanding on my behalf that an apology be placed in the paper’s five subsequent issues. The editor groaned, wheezed, tried to weasel his way out of it, and begged for mercy, but I remained adamant. The above apology will be published in five issues of Forward.
18 July
Only yesterday did Seeds and Co. deign to pay a visit to C[omrade] Molotov. Thus, the fresh instructions of which Halifax informed me on the 12th travelled for a whole five days from London to the British embassy in Moscow! To judge by our negotiations, British diplomacy must use oxen as its means of transportation.
The ambassadors told C[omrade] Molotov that the Anglo-French side did not insist on including Switzerland and Holland in the list of guaranteed countries. So, one difficulty has been overcome.
On the other hand, no progress has been made on the issue of indirect aggression. On the contrary, all the proposals and modifications put forward by the British and the French looked more like a swindler’s tricks and ruses. Our negotiators rejected them in the sharpest possible terms.
The matter of the simultaneous implementation of the pact and the military convention fared no better. The British and the French proposed first reaching an agreement on the political side, and then moving on to military negotiations. Our position was that there should be one single agreement, divided into a political part and a military part. In addition, we made it absolutely clear that the military part held much more significance than the political one, and that it itself represented politics in distilled form. A pact without the military part would be an empty declaration. On this point, no agreement has been reached.
Indeed, the meeting on 17 July left such an unpleasant aftertaste that our people in Moscow have started wondering whether anything will come of these never-ending talks. Judging by some indicators, one cannot exclude the possibility that they may be broken off in the very near future. For now, let us wait and see.
[At the Cabinet meeting of 19 July, Halifax sided with Chamberlain, preferring ‘a breakdown of the negotiations’ to acceptance of the Soviet terms.
Neilson, Britain, Soviet Russia and the Collapse of the Versailles Order, p. 309.
No wonder that,


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when he visited Maisky that same day, Nicolson found ‘a strange collection of leftwing enthusiasts sitting around in the Winter Garden with a huge tea-table spread with delicious cakes and caviar sandwiches, plus a samovar’. Maisky, who was now under ‘a definite impression … that the Government did not really want the negotiations to go through’ was so desperate to put across the Soviet view that he forgot to offer them any tea, and they all left ‘casting regretful glances at the untouched table’.
Nicolson, Diaries, 20 July 1939, p. 406. On the perseverance of the ‘spirit of Munich’, see Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 440–1, 20 July 1939.
Having succeeded in warding off the pressure for a treaty with Russia, Chamberlain reverted to attempting to deter Hitler from resorting to force by offering him various economic incentives. A series of intermediaries who had received Halifax’s blessing
Inskip papers, INKP2, diary, 27 Aug. 1939.
paved the way for a meeting of prominent British industrialists with Göring. Likewise, Rab Butler, Halifax’s parliamentary undersecretary of state, was actively engaged in seeking conciliation with Berlin and made a dubious comment about the negotiations with the Russians at a critical stage, which only served to enhance Soviet suspicions.
Stafford, ‘Political autobiography’, pp. 903–5; TNA FO 371 23072 C11018/3356/18, Butler’s conversations with Maisky, 4 Aug. 1939.
Meanwhile Horace Wilson and Hudson had – entirely on their own initiative – embarked on dialogue with Helmut Wohlthat, architect of Göring’s Four Year Plan. Their plan was to offer Hitler a full-blown economic partnership and recognition of German hegemony over Central and Eastern Europe, in return for Hitler’s renunciation of a resort to force as an instrument of international policy. The negotiations with the Russians had hardly regained their momentum when they were interrupted by a distorted press leak, which provoked a rebuttal by Hudson. Although Chamberlain condemned the unauthorized initiative, his fury appears to have been reserved for the liberties taken by Hudson, which had dealt a ‘disastrous’ blow to a policy he himself subscribed to. Henceforth, he would ensure that negotiations with Germany would be pursued through ‘other and discreet channels’.
Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 430–1, 23 July 1939. This summary relies also on an excellent and even-handed analysis by S. Newton, Profits of Peace: The political economy of Anglo-German appeasement (Oxford, 1996), ch. 5; see also Parker, Chamberlain and Appeasement, pp. 269–71; Carley, 1939, pp. 179f.
Though the negotiations never really got anywhere, they did succeed in fuelling Soviet suspicion and may well have contributed to the volte face in Maisky’s critical


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assessment of British intentions in the fortnight preceding the conclusion of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact. Maisky – who, as the following entry shows, continued to believe in an agreement right up to, and even after, the outbreak of war – was now attuned to Moscow. He saw Chamberlain ‘resuscitating his old policy of appeasement’ in an attempt to defuse the Danzig problem, which would obviate the need for an early conclusion of the Anglo-Soviet negotiations.
God Krizisa, II, no. 493, 24 July 1939. On the suspicion fuelled by the feelers, see Stamford papers, diary, 30 April 1940.
]
22 July
Guo Taiqi told me today that the direct cause of the fall of the Chinese dollar [sic] is the run on the dollar organized by the Japanese and the depletion of the 10 million ‘stabilization fund’. About two weeks ago Guo already warned Halifax that this fund was running out quickly and had to be increased. Halifax promised to consider the matter, but nothing has been done so far. Hence the crash of the Shanghai stock exchange.
Guo also asked the British to give the Chinese government a loan of 8 million from its 60 million fund of ‘political credits’. This request is also ‘under consideration’, but there has been no loan as yet.
I get the impression that today, with negotiations with Tokyo on Tianjin having just begun, the British government does not want to give money to China. It does not want to ‘annoy’ the Japanese by supporting the Chinese dollar. In other words, the British government has already fulfilled one of the most important Japanese demands: to refuse to finance the Chinese currency.
Chamberlain’s policy is clearly one of capitulation. He is quite prepared for a Far Eastern Munich.
25 July
Halifax invited me to see him and said that at the last meeting in Moscow, on 23 July, Comrade Molotov had proposed opening military talks immediately, emphasizing again that the Soviet government would not sign the pact without a military convention.
It is doubtful whether the Soviet Union’s decision to embark on military talks was a result of Halifax’s determination to call its ‘bluff’; Neilson, Britain, Soviet Russia and the Collapse of the Versailles Order, p. 309. As early as 10 July, General Shaposhnikov, the Soviet chief of staff, submitted to Stalin at his request an outline for a military alliance with England and France. He considered several variants of a possible German offensive and offered a detailed response to them. The document, corrected and approved by Stalin on 19 July, served as the Soviet agenda for the military negotiations; RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.220 ll 3–9.
Comrade Molotov further let Seeds and Co. understand that, should the question of the military convention be resolved favourably, the remaining political difficulties (indirect aggression) would cease to be insuperable. Since Seeds had not been authorized to decide the matter raised by Comrade Molotov, he appealed to London. Today, the British government took an extraordinarily important decision: it accepted Comrade Molotov’s proposal and is prepared to begin military negotiations right away, parallel to the political ones. The pact and the military convention will be signed concurrently. The British and French military missions will leave for Moscow in seven to ten days. The composition of the missions has yet to be decided.


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Stating all this, Halifax expressed the hope that since the British government was compromising with us on the question of simultaneous negotiations, the Soviet government would now compromise with the Anglo-French side on the only remaining point at issue, that of indirect aggression. Halifax thinks that the formula proposed by the British covers instances of indirect aggression similar to the Czechoslovak case. In all other instances, the method of consultation would be applied. Halifax begged us to be satisfied with what has been attained. After all, the British and the French have to satisfy themselves with consultation in the event of a threat of aggression against Holland or Switzerland.
I avoided giving a direct answer and advised Halifax to consult Moscow.
I then asked Halifax how one should understand his and his prime minister’s statements yesterday concerning negotiations in Tokyo. The foreign secretary replied that there had been no change in British Far Eastern policy, and that the sole purpose of the statements was to reaffirm the neutral position taken by British concessions in the regions occupied by the Japanese. I asked Halifax whether the British government was going to continue financing the Chinese government, and in particular to support the dollar. I added that this was a test case and that the answer to this question would show the world whether a change had occurred in British policy toward China or not.
Halifax even changed countenance. I could hear a note of uncharacteristic excitement in his voice. Yet he was unable to say anything comprehensible. It was quite obvious that the British government was scheming away and that the last thing it wanted to do was to give money to the Chinese, at least at present, for what would the Japanese say if they did?
You can smell a Far Eastern Munich in the offing. If it fails to take place, it will be no thanks to the British.
Once again, in his memoirs Maisky gives a distorted account of the meeting, claiming (in clairvoyant fashion) that he left Halifax ‘with a feeling of great alarm’. Both the full diary


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entry and the succinct telegram he sent to Moscow show a guarded optimism. According to Halifax, Maisky thought the arrangement ‘was a good one, and that the deterrent value … would be very great and impress the outside world more than any other step could have done’. Moscow, he said, considered that ‘real progress had been made … and hoped that we were now approaching the end of our negotiations’. It is true, though, that Halifax did not convey to Maisky any sense of urgency, as he ‘did not anticipate any immediate trouble’. Who Helped Hitler?, pp. 162–4 and God Krizisa, II, no. 500; TNA FO 371 23071 C10456/3356/18.
28 July
Back home at last! We were away for a mere 36 hours, but how many interesting, vivid and unforgettable impressions were amassed in such a short interval!
It all began in a very simple, even prosaic way. About a month ago, the Cardiff branch of the S[ociety for] C[ultural] R[elations with the USSR] invited Agniya and me for lunch in Cardiff, to present us with a collection of gramophone records of Welsh folk songs. I accepted the invitation, without attaching any particular significance to my action. Throughout July, my secretary and the Cardiff branch secretary made various arrangements concerning the particulars of our visit, which I did not follow closely. On 26 July, at 3.55 p.m., Agniya and I boarded the train for Cardiff, and events began to unfold…


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We were met at the railway station in Cardiff by the local SCR representatives, and also by Mr W.G. Howell,
William Gough Howell, lord mayor of Cardiff, 1938–39.
the lord mayor of Cardiff, in full dress and with gold chains around his neck, together with his wife. The lord mayor introduced me to the station master, the chief of police and other city ‘notables’. Needless to say, reporters and photographers were present in their droves. We got into the lord mayor’s official car and drove to his official residence, where we were to stay throughout our visit to Cardiff. For we were the guests not only of the local SCR, but of the lord mayor himself. On the way there, W.G. Howell remarked, as if in passing: ‘Last week the duchess of Kent was our guest.’
I smiled to myself.
When we were driving past the City Hall I noticed, with some surprise, a big red hammer-and-sickle flag on top of the building. In answer to my inquiring look, the lord mayor explained that the flag had been hoisted in honour of the Soviet ambassador. Indeed, the red flag fluttered on the mast of the Cardiff City Hall throughout the 24 hours I spent in the city. Nothing like that had ever occurred in the history of Anglo-Soviet relations.
In the evening, the lord mayor gave a grand official reception in our honour at the City Hall, at which some 900 people were present – a gaudy mixture of suits, political parties and social groups from this crisis-ridden black-coal region. From dyed-in-the-wool conservatives to communists – such was the range of the political spectrum. The lord mayor and his wife, together with Agniya and me, welcomed the guests. Our hands became swollen from endless handshakes. While the guests were coming in, a young woman in Welsh national costume played folk tunes on the harp. It was a little exotic, but beautiful and pleasant.
The reception began with a concert given by the best Welsh workers’ choir – the Pendyrus Male Choir. A hundred and fifty singers, of whom 90 turned out to be miners and 60 unemployed. The choir was truly superb. The solo performances were good, but the Welsh folk songs sung in chorus were best of all. Most remarkably, however, the concert opened with a wonderful rendition of the ‘Internationale’. It ended, of course, with ‘God Save the King’, but this was mere custom: this was, after all, an official reception given by the official lord mayor in the official City Hall.
The concert was followed by refreshments and dances. I was interested in the choir. I went to a special hall, where the singers were having a bite to eat after their performance, and asked the conductor to furnish me with details about his organization. It turned out that the choir had emerged in 1926, the year of the memorable miners’ strike, and had attracted some 600 singers during the 14 years of its existence. All the choir members are amateurs. They sing in their free time. They are nearly all miners from the Rhondda Valley. I congratulated the choir on its great success. They were flattered, and immediately sang one


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more beautiful Welsh song for me. All this went on for quite a while, and the lord mayor, who thought it his duty as a courteous host to accompany me, was visibly bored. I had to hurry things along. But the choir was obviously very pleased by the attention shown to them.
Then came the obligatory speeches. The lord mayor welcomed me and expressed the hope that my visit would promote rapprochement and particularly trade between our countries. I responded in the same vein, but in more general terms, without making any commitments.
Early the next morning we began a long and wearying schedule.
First up was the ‘Temple of Peace’, the brainchild of Lord Davies,
David Davies (1st Baron Davies), founder and trustee of the League of Nations Union.
on which he spent about fifty thousand pounds. It’s a beautiful building with marble columns, a large hall and dozens of smaller rooms – the headquarters of the local friends of the League of Nations and of societies fighting tuberculosis. A ceremonial meeting was held in the grand hall, where Lord Davies and I made the appropriate speeches. Some 500 people were present. A wonderful children’s choir sang a series of pacifist and Welsh folk songs.


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Next was a visit to the university. I’d imagined that we would see the building, lecture halls and so on, but much more was in store for us. Agniya and I were met at the entrance by the university senate, headed by the rector, all in formal attire (gowns and caps). We followed the rector into the grand hall, where there was a horseshoe table with space to seat all of us. The rector made a long welcome speech, in which he declared directly and clearly: we need an Anglo-Soviet pact. I had to improvise a very cautious response, in view of the current phase of the negotiations. On the whole, it turned out all right.
Then came the Welsh National Museum. We were taken round by its director and his assistants. I took the opportunity to question one of the experts present about the past inhabitants of Great Britain. I learned that little is known about the ancient inhabitants of the British Isles, but between 800 and 1000 bc the isles were conquered by the Celts, who arrived from the continent and settled in England, Wales and Scotland. It was those Celts whom the Romans encountered here in the first century bc and called ‘Britons’. Later, however, the Celtic-Britons mixed with, and were strongly influenced by, Romans, Norsemen, Anglo-Saxons, etc., as a result of which there emerged the Englishmen of today, with their English language. Wales was far less susceptible to these foreign influences, and here the Celtic race and the Celtic language were preserved in a purer form. That is why the Welsh are so unlike the English. The Bretons in France are also Welshmen, who fled there some 1,500 years ago at the time of the Anglo-Saxon invasion. They still understand each other now, even though their languages have, of course, inevitably diverged over 15 centuries of separate existence. Welshmen also settled in Cornwall. I don’t know whether all these historical facts are true (a Welsh national bias cannot be excluded), but they seem credible enough. There is no question that the Welsh are different from the English: lively, talkative, merry, melodious, artistic. Welsh songs rather recall those of the Ukraine…
‘Lunch’ in the Dorothy Café. One hundred and twenty people, including the lord mayor and his wife, Lord Davies and his wife, and other notables. Professor Shakesby, who introduced himself as a pupil of Pavlov, presided. Speeches. The presentation of a collection of gramophone records by the local SCR.
The Nine Mile Point Colliery, belonging to Lord Davies. We are welcomed by a huge crowd of miners, women and children. Greetings, friendly cheers, clapping, fists raised in salutation. We put on miner’s overalls and pick up miner’s lamps. Newspaper photographers snap away. We descend 1,200 feet. Accompanied by the mine director, administrators, and trade union men, we, together with Lord Davies, walk for two hours in the underground galleries, touch the timbering with our own hands, break off pieces of coal, stroke the pit ponies (which turn out to be huge horses) and on the whole do everything that should be done on such occasions. Agniya is in high spirits – excited and


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cheerful. But the mine makes no particular impression on me. It’s not the first time I’ve been underground. Besides, I’m sure that this dry, well-timbered and highly mechanized mine is to some extent a ‘model mine’ to be shown to ‘eminent travellers’.
We climb back up. Inspect the coal washing and the scales for weighing the mine cars. Then we go to clean ourselves. I have a shower in the well-equipped pithead bath. Then we drink tea in the pit’s office and get ready to return to Cardiff in order to catch the 6.36 train to London.
When suddenly… the lord mayor’s secretary, Mr Chamberlain (what a name!), approaches me and, in some embarrassment, informs me that I am invited to visit Tylorstown, which is located 15 miles from the Nine Mile Point Colliery up the Rhondda Valley. The town’s Chamber of Commerce wants to deliver a ceremonial address in my honour. Several thousand people have gathered there, expecting me. As Chamberlain had known nothing about this until now, a visit to Tylorstown had not been included in the schedule. It all happened unexpectedly, impromptu. Could I satisfy their request? True, the weather wasn’t so bright (a nasty drizzle had just started falling) but still… What was my decision?
It would have been bad form to refuse. Besides, I was intrigued by the mysterious Tylorstown, which had demonstrated such rare initiative. I replied that I would go to Tylorstown and would return to London later, on the night train.
We set out for Tylorstown, with Chamberlain, Lord and Lady Davies travelling in another car. The road runs through the charming Rhondda Valley, with its soft green hills and sooty mining towns. A slight mist. Drizzling rain falls noiselessly from the sky. The car speeds along like an arrow. Curious heads lean out of the windows of miners’ shacks and little houses along the wayside. Greetings and friendly shouts come our way. Hands wave. Fists are raised every now and again in salutation.
Here we are in Tylorstown. A typical little mining town. Small houses, a church, pithead buildings, a high hoisting tower with openwork wheels. We are met by a huge crowd of several thousand people – men, women and children. They cry ‘Hurray!’ and many raise clenched fists. Our car moves with difficulty through the dense crowd toward a small wooden shed standing on the right. It’s the local office of the Miners’ Federation. A large police detail keeps the crowd back and makes a narrow path for Agniya and me to pass through. We enter a lodge, as all the local British mining organizations are called: plain, unpainted wooden walls, plain wooden tables and benches, an iron stove. Looks more like a heated goods van or a repair hut.
Daniel Ashton, president of the Chamber of Commerce, welcomes us, saying that it is a great honour to receive the ambassador of the Soviet Union. He then hands me an extravagant certificate in red morocco, beautifully printed,


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with fine ornamentation. The certificate states that Tylorstown is welcoming a foreign ambassador for the first time. This would be pleasing under any circumstances. But it is triply pleasing to welcome the Soviet ambassador. The Rhondda Valley has always sympathized with the USSR, even when others doubted the success of your cause, but ‘what Rhondda thought yesterday all Britain will think tomorrow’. Here, in the Rhondda Valley, many people read Russian writers and follow your achievements with keen interest. The certificate ends with the hope that Agniya and I will stay in England for a long time, and that the Anglo-Soviet pact will soon be concluded.
Then it was the turn of various speakers: the lodge secretary, Lord Davies and others. I responded. Then the president stated provocatively that he would be a bad chairman if he failed to give the floor to ‘MADBm Maisky’. This made me anxious – how would Agniya get out of this tricky situation? She coped perfectly well. She stood up and said with a smile: ‘My speech will be very short. In fact, it will consist of one word only, which, moreover, I will probably mispronounce. “Diolch!”’ (‘Thank you’ in Welsh).
An outstanding success. Endless applause.
We left the lodge. We were met outside by nearly all the members of yesterday’s Pendyrus Choir. It turned out that the majority of the choir is recruited from this very region. We bowed to one another like old acquaintances and, overcome with enthusiasm and friendly emotions, they sang to us a farewell song in Welsh under the open sky at the entrance to the lodge. The policemen who were keeping the crowd back sang along. We got into the car, moved slowly through the vociferously applauding mass of people, and headed back to Cardiff.
I confess I was truly touched and moved: after all, these were workers and proletarians who were greeting us!
***
Sitting in the lord mayor’s dining room after supper, shortly before our departure for London, I conversed with Lord Davies.
‘What you’ve told me about the Anglo-Soviet negotiations saddens me greatly,’ said Lord Davies. ‘When I see what’s happening in my country now, when I see Chamberlain and his government meekly making one crucial concession after the other to the aggressor, when I see how this stupid and narrow-minded policy is paving the way to the downfall of our Empire, I can feel my heart breaking. I often ask myself: why was I not killed by a German bullet in France in the last war? That would have been easier.’
Such are the feelings evoked by the current decline of the British bourgeoisie among its most honest and far-sighted representatives!


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I remembered that Lloyd George once told me about Lord Davies. In early 1917, the Allies sent an Anglo-French mission headed by Lord Milner
Alfred Milner (1st Viscount Milner), member of the War Cabinet, 1916–18; secretary of state for war, 1918–19; secretary of state for the colonies, 1919–21.
to Petrograd to appraise the situation in Russia. The mission spent a couple of weeks in Petrograd, encountered only ministers and high society, and returned to London fully convinced that all the rumours about popular discontent and impending revolution were groundless. Lord Davies, assigned to the mission as young secretary Davies, didn’t meet any Russian aristocrats while in Petrograd, but spent a lot of time wandering about the city, visiting workers’ districts, and meeting with representatives of the opposition and revolutionary parties. Upon returning home, he told Lloyd George: ‘Expect a revolution in the next few weeks.’
He was right.
30 July
In today’s Observer I found the following report, which seems most relevant to the present situation.


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[Maisky includes a cutting of the editorial of the Observer, arguing that the opposition leaders do not conceal the fact that the prime minister – the architect of the Munich Agreement – is not a man who could challenge the aggressors. The opposition leaders and dissident ministers are afraid that the parliamentary recess until 3 October will provide the prime minister with an opportunity to weaken the front against the aggressors in some way. The article further reports on the informal talks held by Hudson and Wohlthat.]
4 August
Azcárate arrived from Paris. The Republicans are slowly being transferred to Mexico. One ship, with some two thousand émigrés, has just embarked for Chile, where the Popular Front government is presently in power (will it last long?).
The French government’s attitude to Spanish refugees has improved significantly. The horrors of the ‘Spanish camps’ are in the past. Some Spaniards are engaged in military construction work, some have been recruited by the French army, and still others are settling down in rural areas near the Italian border. But many thousands, it seems clear, will be repatriated to Spain. According to the agreement between Franco and the French government, which stipulates the return of Spanish gold (about 8 million francs, Franco will also receive up to 50,000 Spanish refugees. The French government has not forced anyone to return home as yet, but what will it do in the future? Nobody knows. The settling of refugees in Scandinavia, and especially in Sweden, is fraught with difficulties. At the beginning of the year, Sandler agreed to accept…100 refugees. But now he refuses to fulfil even that promise. That’s typical of him, if one recalls his conduct in Geneva in connection with Beneš’s telegram.
There is internal strife and division among the Spanish émigrés in Paris. Upon returning from Mexico, Prieto
Indalecio Prieto (Tuero), minister of national defence of the Spanish Republic, 1937–38; chairman of the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, 1937–62.
challenged Negrín as leader of the Spanish émigrés. Resorting to various ploys, he pushed through a decision unfavourable for Negrín in the so-called ‘Cortes delegation’, a mythical body of 21 men which seeks to arrogate to itself the right to speak on behalf of the former Spanish parliament. But most of the real émigré organizations, such as the party executive committees, the Evacuation Committee, and others, support Negrín.
Well, fights and squabbles among émigrés are almost an iron law of existence.
Azcárate spoke at length about the profound internal disintegration of the French Socialist Party. He did not conceal that he sides with the communists.


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The members of the military mission to Moscow – Admiral Drax
Reginald Aylmer Ranfurly Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax, admiral, commander-in-chief at Plymouth, 1935–38.
(head), Air Marshal Burnett
Charles Stuart Burnett, air officer commanding Iraq Command, 1933–35; Training Command, 1936–39; inspector-general of the RAF, 1939–40.
and Major General Heywood
Thomas George Gordon Heywood, major general, Royal Air Force, Aldershot Command, 1936–39.
– came for lunch. The guests were highly reserved in conversation and preferred to discuss such innocuous topics as partridge hunting, the season for which they will clearly have to spend in Moscow.
When Drax asked Halifax whether he should attend the luncheon, Halifax replied: ‘if you can bear it …’ Quoted in Carley, 1939, p. 186.
During lunch, however, I did learn one thing which seriously alarmed me. When I asked Drax, who was sitting on my right, why the delegation was not flying to Moscow by plane to save time, Drax drew in his lips and said: ‘You see, there are nearly 20 of us and a lot of luggage… It would be uncomfortable in the plane…’
I can hardly say that I found his response convincing. I continued: ‘In that case, why not travel by warship… On a fast cruiser, for example… It would look impressive and it would hasten your arrival in Leningrad.’
Drax sucked his lips again and said, deep in thought: ‘But that would mean kicking 20 officers out of their cabins… That would be awkward…’
I couldn’t believe my ears. Such tender feelings and such tactful manners!
The admiral hastened to gladden me, though, with the news that the military delegation had chartered a special vessel, The City of Exeter, which would take them and the French mission to Leningrad. At this point Korzh intervened in the conversation, remarking pointedly that he had heard from the owner of this ship earlier today that her maximum speed was 13 knots an hour. I cast a look of surprise at Drax and exclaimed: ‘Is that possible?’
Drax was embarrassed and mumbled: ‘The Board of Trade chartered the ship. I don’t know the particulars.’
So, the English and the French military missions are travelling to Moscow by freight steamer! It must be a freighter, to judge by its speed! And this comes at a time in Europe when the ground is beginning to burn beneath our feet! Incredible! Does the British government really want an agreement? I’m becoming more and more convinced that Chamberlain is pursuing his own game regardless: it’s not a tripartite pact that he needs, but talks about a pact, as a trump card for cutting a deal with Hitler.
The following information has been obtained from official sources:
Admiral the Hon. Sir Reginald Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax, KCB, DSO, was, until very recently, commander-in-chief at Plymouth. He is said to be a first-class fellow. He is still on the Active List, but at the moment holds no official position.


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Air Marshal Sir Charles Burnett, KCB, DSO, is at present inspector-general of the Royal Air Force.
Major General T.G.G. Heywood. In the Army List he is shown as brigadier in charge of the Royal Artillery at Aldershot. He has recently received promotion to major general and now commands the 7th Anti-Aircraft Division.
[Bar the occasional lapse, right up until the very day the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact was concluded, Maisky maintained that an agreement with the Western powers was inevitable. In his apologetic memoirs, he puts a misleading gloss on the narrative, whereby Halifax’s refusal to proceed to Moscow and the bizarre episode of the military mission startled and convinced him that an agreement was doomed. This narrative, meticulously constructed and widely disseminated by Maisky, through Boothby, to justify the pact, was later also adopted by Stalin, who told Beaverbrook in October 1941 that ‘Chamberlain and the Conservative Party … fundamentally disliked and distrusted the Russians.’ Halifax’s refusal to travel to Moscow and the arrival of the forlorn military mission in Moscow had supposedly left him with no choice but to conclude the Pact. This narrative laid the foundations for the Soviet ‘falsifiers of history’ mainstream historiography. When Boothby interjected, accusing the Russians of treachery, Maisky replied ‘somewhat uneasily’ that everyone was ‘now playing a cold game of power politics and that it was merely a question of technique’.
See Dalton papers, II, 5/2, letter from Boothby, 15 Sep. 1939, and R. Boothby, Recollections of a Rebel (London, 1978), pp. 188–93. Stalin’s resort to the narrative is in Beaverbrook papers, Balfour diary, 1 Oct. 1941.
Maisky’s narrative is refuted by the following diary entry – a rare but telling exposition of his inner thoughts at the time. Moreover, visiting the Webbs at their cottage two days later, he nonchalantly dismissed the decision to send the military mission by cargo boat as ‘an amusing instance of Chamberlain’s subconscious desire to delay and hamper these negotiations – a rather far-fetched indication of his sinister sub-consciousness!’ Manifestly ‘in good spirits’ and ‘enjoying [his] sudden popularity with the newspaper world and the public’, he was certain that ‘Great Britain will be forced to come into alliance’ with the Soviet Union.
Webb, diary, 7 Aug. 1939, pp. 6698–700 (emphasis in original).
]
5 August
Went to St Pancras railway station to see off the British and French military missions. Lots of people, reporters, photographers, ladies and young girls. I met General Doumenc,
Joseph Édouard Aimé Doumenc, French general in command of the 1st Military Region, 1937–39; member of the Supreme War Council, 1939–42.
head of the French mission, and a few of his companions. The heads of the British mission – Admiral Drax (head), Air Marshal Burnett and Major General Heywood – were my guests for lunch yesterday and we greeted one another like old acquaintances.
On my way home, I couldn’t help smiling at history’s mischievous sense of humour.


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In subjective terms, it is difficult to imagine a situation more favourable for an Anglo-German bloc against the USSR and less favourable for an Anglo-Soviet bloc against Germany. Indeed, the spontaneous preferences of the British ‘upper ten thousand’ most definitely lie with Germany. In his sleep, Chamberlain dreams of a deal with Hitler at the expense of third countries, i.e. ultimately at the expense of the USSR. Even now, the PM still dreams of ‘appeasement’. On the other side, in Berlin, Hitler has always advocated a bloc with Britain. He wrote about this fervently back in Mein Kampf. Highly influential groups among the German fascists, bankers and industrialists also support closer relations with England. I repeat: the subjective factor is not only 100%, but a full 150% behind an Anglo-German bloc.
And yet, the bloc fails to materialize. Slowly but unstoppably, Anglo-German relations are deteriorating and becoming increasingly strained. Regardless of Chamberlain’s many attempts to ‘forget’, to ‘forgive’, to ‘reconcile’, to ‘come to terms’, something fateful always occurs to widen further the abyss between London and Berlin. Why? Because the vital interests of the two powers – the objective factor – prove diametrically opposed. And this fundamental conflict of interests easily overrides the influence of the subjective factor. Repulsion is stronger than attraction.
The reverse scenario holds for Anglo-Soviet relations. Here the subjective factor is sharply opposed to an Anglo-Soviet bloc. The bourgeoisie and the Court dislike, even loathe, ‘Soviet communism’. Chamberlain has always been eager to cut the USSR’s throat with a feather. And we, on the Soviet side, have no great liking for the ‘upper ten thousand’ of Great Britain. The burden of the past, the recent experience of the Soviet period, and ideological practice have all combined to poison our subjective attitude towards the ruling elite in England, and especially the prime minister, with the venom of fully justified suspicion and mistrust. I repeat: the subjective factor in this case is not only 100%, but a full 150% against an Anglo-Soviet bloc.
And yet the bloc is gradually taking shape. When I look back over the seven years of my time in London, the overall picture is very instructive. Slowly but steadily, via zigzags, setbacks and failures, Anglo-Soviet relations are improving. From the Metro-Vickers case to the military mission’s trip to Moscow! This is the distance we have covered! The abyss between London and Moscow keeps narrowing. Field engineers are successfully fixing beams and rafters to support the bridge over the remaining distance. Why? Because the vital interests of the two powers – the objective factor – coincide. And this fundamental coincidence overrides the influence of the subjective factor. Attraction proves stronger than repulsion.


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The military mission’s journey to Moscow is a historical landmark. It testifies to the fact that the process of attraction has reached a very high level of development.
But what an irony that it should fall to Chamberlain to build the Anglo-Soviet bloc against Germany!
Yes, mischievous history really does have a vicious sense of humour.
However, everything flows. The balance of forces described above corresponds to the present historical period. The picture would change dramatically if and when the question of a proletarian revolution outside the USSR becomes the order of the day.
[Negotiations with the British and French were now being conducted in parallel to those with the Germans, even if the latter had lost some steam since April. Maisky, like the other Soviet plenipotentiaries, was oblivious to their existence. On 10 July, the Germans acquiesced to the procedure proposed by the Russians to link the economic and political negotiations, eliciting from Stalin an immediate reaction: ‘we are ready to move ahead’. Further negotiations, however, stalled until 26 July, when Schnurre informed the Soviet attaché that Ribbentrop had been displaying a personal interest in the improvement of Soviet–German relations.
Given Maisky’s warning that the British were still trying to agree terms with the Germans, Stalin was resolved to steal a march before the military negotiations got under way with the democracies. On 2 August, Astakhov was given the green light to meet Ribbentrop. He found the German foreign minister eager to conclude a trade agreement, which might ‘signal an improvement in political relations’. Ribbentrop insisted that no conflict existed between the two countries ‘from the Black Sea to the Baltic’ and that ‘all related issues were open for discussion’. Satisfied with ‘the leap forward’ on the political front, Molotov curiously dismissed as ‘inappropriate’ a cryptic reference to a possible ‘secret protocol’. The Germans, however, pressed on. On 12 August, Astakhov relayed from Berlin that, in anticipation of a conflict with Poland, the Germans were eager to enter economic as well as political negotiations. ‘The Germans got really frightened,’ recalled Maisky a year later, ‘when the Anglo-French Mission arrived in Moscow & strained every nerve to reach an agreement with Russia.’
Conversations with Lord Stamford, as described in his diary, 30 April 1940.
Hardly had the military talks got under way in Moscow than Schulenburg suggested to Molotov on 15 August that Ribbentrop should come to Russia. The Kremlin, as the historian Geoffrey Roberts aptly put it, ‘continued to hedge its bets’. Though welcoming the idea, Molotov, who was always suspicious of behind-the-scenes intrigues, wanted more precise information on the nature of the German proposals. Moreover, he obviously wished to extract the best terms from the Germans while military negotiations with the democracies were on. It was not until 17 August, following the collapse of the forlorn military negotiations, that Molotov raised with Schulenburg the idea of a non-aggression pact and a ‘special protocol’, addressing the mutual interests of the two countries. The text of such an agreement was ironed out by both sides on 19 August.
Two days later, Hitler addressed Stalin personally, in what was tantamount to an ultimatum, demanding that Ribbentrop be received in Moscow in the next couple of


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days to sign the agreements. Stalin responded within two hours. The negotiations at the Kremlin were brief. Stalin predicated the signing of the non-aggression pact on an agreement in principle for a secret protocol governing the division of Central and Eastern Europe into ‘spheres of influence’. He arranged for the startled Ribbentrop to have a direct phone link to Hitler, who gave his consent on the spot.
Bezymenskii, ‘Sovetsko-germanskie dogovory 1939 g.’; L. Bezymenskii, ‘Al’ternativy 1939 goda: vokrug Sovetsko-germankogo pakta 1939’, in Arkhivy raskryvayut tainy (Moscow, 1991); Bezymenskii, Gitler i Stalin pered skhvatkoi, p. 2009. I further profited from scores of conversations with the late Lev Bezymenskii, whose intimate familiarity with the archival sources and the personae involved was unparalleled. See also V.V. Sokolov, ‘Tragicheskaya sud’ba diplomata G.A. Astakhova’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 1 (1997). A great number of telegrams exchanged between the Soviet embassy in Berlin and Narkomindel have been published in God Krizisa. A rare but important source is V.V. Sokolov (ed.), ‘“Avtobiograficheskie zametki” V. N. Pavlova – perevodchika I. V. Stalina’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 4 (2000). Also useful was Roberts, ‘The Soviet decision for a pact’. Roberts argues, though, that the policy was ‘made on the hoof’. It certainly was reactive, as was the policy of all other powers involved. However, as has been shown, it is clear that the German option had been considered a viable alternative since April 1939. For more on the debate, see Roberts, ‘On Soviet–German relations’, and J. Haslam, ‘Soviet–German relations and the origins of the Second World War: The jury is still out’, Journal of Modern History, 69/4 (1997).
]
6 August
Elliot lunched with me yesterday. We discussed the negotiations, Anglo-Soviet relations, and international affairs. But above all we discussed the visit to the USSR of a group of British MPs headed by Elliot. Formally they are going to see the agricultural exhibition, but their actual purpose is to meet our leaders. Elliot, in particular, wishes to meet Comrade Stalin and have a talk with him.
I promised to make inquiries. I don’t know what Moscow will make of this proposal. I have a feeling that difficulties and obstacles may arise. Especially in fulfilling Elliot’s wish to meet Comrade Stalin. We shall see.
11 August
Today I invited Chief of the General Staff Lord Gort,
John Standish Surtees Vereker (6th Viscount Gort), chief of imperial general staff, 1937–39; in September 1939 became commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force.
Lord Lloyd, Degville
Howard Degville, head of the Empire Parliamentary Association.
and others for lunch.
Lloyd spoke at length about his work as chairman of the British Council for cultural relations with foreign countries, and, in particular, about visits made by foreign journalists (Turkish, Rumanian, Spanish, Portuguese, etc.) to England. In this connection, he wished to know whether he might expect a visit by a group of Soviet journalists to England. Remembering that I had yet to receive a reply from Moscow to my inquiry about Elliot’s group, I refrained from giving an answer in advance.
Responding to a query of mine, Gort said that although officially, for the general public, the British government does not plan to send a large army to the continent in the event of a new war, the general staff understands perfectly well that this will have to be done and is already making all the necessary preparations, particularly as regards the procurement of weapons, ammunition and equipment. Conscription, according to Gort, will continue. The first year-group to be conscripted will be followed by the second, the third, and so on. He boasted that only 9% of the first levy was found unfit for military service. (NB: I wonder, what were the standards demanded of the recruits?). Gort’s estimate of the military potential of Germany is low: the number of her first-


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line machines does not exceed 3,000, and Germany will not be able to fight for more than one year. Gort was very interested in the prospects of the Moscow military negotiations and declared himself in favour of a tripartite pact.
20 August
We got away for a week and spent it at the Malvern drama festival. Eleven years ago, Barry Jackson, the prominent and wealthy Birmingham patron, and Bernard Shaw decided to put on the first-ever drama festival in England. The chosen venue was Malvern. The festival was held in August and lasted for four weeks. Six plays were shown: five English masterpieces and a new play by Shaw. The festival was well received. Since then it has been held annually. Two years ago, having lost 30 or 40 thousand (the festival did not pay its way), Barry Jackson abandoned the enterprise. He was replaced by a certain Roy Limbert, a theatrical entrepreneur and director. The nature of the festival has also changed somewhat. Limbert stages six new plays and sells the successful ones to London theatres. We saw all six, including Bernard Shaw’s In Good King Charles’s Golden Days and Vansittart’s Dead Heat.
Apart from going to the theatre, we drove around the wonderful Malvern countryside, scrambled up and down the beautiful but modestly sized mountains which surround it, walked, rested and read. We had been invited to Malvern by Shaw and Vansittart. We met a few diplomats there and others from London ‘society’. We were guests at the estate of Sir Sidney Clive, marshal of the diplomatic corps. Most of the talk at the tea table was about the threatening international situation. One of the guests from the City asked me what was to be expected in the upcoming week. Not wanting to embark on a lengthy analysis, I just said: ‘I fear that next week will be very difficult.’
I think I was right. But we shall see.
21 August
It seems that our negotiations with the British and the French have collapsed. Already in July there had been a strong desire in Moscow for their termination. Now things have gone from bad to worse. To judge by information received from various sources, the situation is roughly as follows.
When negotiations between the military delegations opened in Moscow on 12 August, the Soviet side inquired about the British and French missions’ letters of credentials. It turned out that they had not brought any with them. Naturally, this produced a very bad impression. The Soviet side asked the British and the French to get the required letters from London and Paris. A few days later these were received and presented, but… they turned out to be


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so general and vague that it became clear to us that London and Paris had no serious intention of concluding an agreement.
Next came the issue of Poland. When the British and the French, having set forth their considerations concerning the assistance they could provide to Poland in case of need, asked the Soviet side what it could do for Poland, Comrade Voroshilov outlined our plan. Since the USSR does not have common borders with Germany, it could of course offer effective aid to Poland, France and Britain only if Poland were to let the Red Army pass through its territory. This is the only way the USSR could engage in combat with Germany. Comrade Voroshilov indicated two possible routes for the Red Army: one army would head to East Prussia through the Wilno and Nowogródek provinces, and the other to Breslau through the Krakow province. The British and the French decided that Warsaw had to be asked about our proposal and initially wanted us to make a corresponding démarche there. We refused categorically. Then the British and the French addressed Warsaw themselves. The Polish government refused categorically to let the Soviet troops pass through its territory and even announced that it did not need any assistance from the USSR. Poland would manage by itself if Britain and France fulfilled their duty. What shocked the Polish most was the prospect of the Red Army marching through Wilno, Piłsudski’s
Józef Klemens Piłsudski, Polish prime minister, 1926–28 and 1930; minister for war, 1926–35.
birthplace. ‘The shade of Piłsudski,’ they exclaimed theatrically, ‘will rise from his grave if we allow the Russian troops to pass through Wilno.’ The French tried to reason with the Poles, while the British remained neutral. In the end, the Poles insisted on having it their own way. The response from Warsaw was conveyed to the Soviet delegation. The latter wanted to know what the British and French thought about the Poles’ decision. They shrugged their shoulders and said they were unable to change anything.
The negotiations stalled on this issue. Deadlock had been reached. Indeed, what’s the use talking to the British and the French if the Poles refuse categorically to accept the only plan that could save Poland?
Once again it has become clear that London and Paris are not serious about an agreement. Or, perhaps they even incited the Poles to reject our proposal?
Some major decisions, one feels, are in the offing…
***
Guo Taiqi told me that after many delays and hesitations, the British government has at last given China a 3 million pound loan for 14 years at 5% interest. They made it a condition, however, that the agreement should be kept secret. This shows how much the British fear the Japanese.


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A curious detail. When everything was ready, the head of the Foreign Office’s far eastern department called Guo Taiqi and asked him for a letter confirming that the signing of the agreement in China would not be divulged. Guo Taiqi said that he would provide such a letter, provided the Foreign Office asked him about it in writing. The Foreign Office got scared and belted up.
[Although the British government accepted the Soviet wish to embark expeditiously on military negotiations, the delegation was instructed to ‘go very slowly with the conversations’ and treat the Russians ‘with reserve’ until a political agreement was reached. Once that hurdle was removed, the delegation was instructed to ‘put forward their recommendations for future procedure and … await authorization from London’ before dealing with the core issues. Even then, its members were instructed to avoid tying the hands of the government: the agreement should be confined ‘to the broadest possible terms’. On no account were they to consider offering any assistance in exerting pressure on Poland and Rumania to receive Soviet assistance. This nonchalant attitude stemmed from a feeling that no ‘rapid or spectacular [German] success’ in the campaign was to be expected, and that this was bound to throw Germany into economic chaos. The British had reverted to their initial April stance of expecting from the Russians mostly logistical and ‘moral support’, which would allow Poland and Rumania ‘to maintain a long, solid and durable front’.
The instructions are in TNA FO 371/23072 C10801/3356/18.
Doumenc, reported Surits to Molotov, was not pleased with the instructions, which were ‘nothing more than general and stereotyped phrases and remarks’. He clearly realized that they were aimed at ‘gaining time’. There was something symbolic in ‘the old cargo ship … representative of the old British commercial fleet. Sturdy, somewhat dated, with an entirely Indian crew carrying the testimony of the Empire’. There was ample time during the six-day cruise for daily conferences, but British reticence meant that these led nowhere.
SPE, doc. 398, 4 Aug. 1939; F. Delpha, Les papiers secrets du Général Doumenc, un autre regard sur 1939–1940 (Paris, 1992), pp. 46–56. A lively and insightful description of the mission is in Carley, 1939, pp. 183–9.
By 16 August the negotiations had reached stalemate, while the German pressure was mounting. Marshal Voroshilov warned that ‘a definite’ response to the Soviet request to enter Poland ‘as soon as possible was of cardinal importance’.
The British account is in E.L Woodward and R. Butler (eds), Documents on British Foreign Policy (London, 1947–48), Third Series, VII, Appendix II.
On the same day, Molotov insisted, in conversations with the American ambassador, that he attached ‘great significance’ to the negotiations and was ‘counting on their success’, so long as they were concluded with ‘concrete obligations’ for mutual assistance, rather than with ‘general declarations’.
SPE, doc. 427, 16 Aug. 1939.
Doumenc duly alerted his government. He believed the Russians ‘clearly expressed the intention not to stand aside … to act in earnest’. He was impressed by the detailed and ‘precise’ statement of the Soviet delegation concerning their military resources, and estimated their assistance to be ‘considerable … between 70 and 100 per cent of the forces we would put up’.
SPE, docs. 430 & 431, 17 Aug. 1939 & doc. 435, 20 Aug. 1939.
A partially positive French response was conveyed to Voroshilov on 22 August, together with a draft agreement which declared the ‘general objective’ of the three powers to form an eastern and western front and to render each other unrestrained assistance. However, the nature of such assistance was left open, to be decided by ‘the course of events’. When the two met in the evening, it emerged that Doumenc could neither vouch for the British, nor could he explain the position of either Poland or Rumania. He should perhaps have been more attentive to Voroshilov’s insinuation that ‘certain political events’ could not be excluded. Indeed, the die had been cast. By now the news had been broadcast that


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Ribbentrop and a retinue of forty people were flying to Moscow the following morning to sign a non-aggression pact.
RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.220 ll.125–36.
]
22 August
Last night, at around twelve, I got a telephone call from Hillman of the International News Service, who shouted down the phone, in great alarm and agitation, that the following news had just come in from Berlin: Germany and the USSR were signing a non-aggression pact. Ribbentrop would be flying to Moscow for that purpose tomorrow. Was this possible?
Involuntarily, I threw up my hands.
This was quickly followed by calls from various newspapers and agencies. That was just the start of it. Within half an hour taxis lined up in front of the embassy and a few reporters tried to force their way in, demanding a statement from me. Needless to say, I avoided speaking to the press. The doorman told the reporters that I was out. They decided to wait until I returned, got into taxis and sat there. A few journalists, however, headed off to Korzh’s apartment. The siege of the embassy lasted until two o’clock. Worn out, the journalists left soon after two, satisfied that they wouldn’t catch me there.
Since early morning there has been a great commotion, almost panic, in town today. Telephone calls. Visits. Requests to see me. Lloyd George came specially from Churt, and invited me for lunch in his office. The old man is anxious, but he fully understands us. He told me plainly: ‘I’ve been expecting this for a long time. I’m still amazed at your patience. How could you negotiate with this government for so long?’
We had a long talk about the current situation and discussed the position that the old man would take on the issue. Finally, he stated directly: ‘While Chamberlain remains in charge, there will be no “peace front”. This man will destroy the Empire.’
Later, the duchess of Atholl paid me a visit. Worried and confused. What is this? The complete neutrality of the Soviet Union? A free hand for Germany in Europe? We had a long talk. The duchess left somewhat reassured.
Greenwood and Dalton came to see me in the evening. They are also worried, bewildered and unable to understand anything. Particularly Greenwood. He seems to have quite lost his bearings, and keeps spouting sentimental maxims. I eventually lost my patience and gave him a piece of my mind.
By evening, the morning panic had somewhat subsided. People began saying that in essence nothing catastrophic had occurred, that the military negotiations in Moscow could be continued, and that the tripartite pact could still be concluded, since hitherto Soviet non-aggression pacts had always


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contained a clause relieving the USSR of the obligation of non-aggression should the other party commit an act of aggression against a third power.
Nonetheless, anxiety still prevails in political circles. It is not for nothing that the Cabinet has decided to convene parliament on the 24th and to hurry the new Defence of the Realm Act (DORA) through the House in the space of a single sitting. Simultaneously, the Cabinet has adopted and published a resolution declaring that it will fulfil its commitments towards Poland, no matter what.
[Dalton and Greenwood found Maisky ‘as much surprised as we were by the latest turn’. In Stockholm, Kollontay was ‘annoyed and irritated’ for not having been briefed. She learned of the pact when she went through the newspapers in the embassy the following morning. Litvinov, hidden away in his dacha, ‘went almost crazy: “what do they mean? What do they mean? Do they really intend to link up with the Germans?”’
Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 446–7; Ivy Litvinov papers, draft memoirs.
For Maisky, as Agniya indiscreetly admitted to Eden over lunch, ‘the recent events had been a disappointment’.
TNA FO 371 23682 N5426/92/38, 13 Oct. 1939.
Out of touch since the negotiations were moved to Moscow in mid-June, Maisky still clung to his belief – even after the pact was signed – that an agreement with the Western powers would be concluded, and he appeared ‘apprehensive’ about the likelihood that the military mission would be withdrawn from Moscow. ‘If you don’t hurry up and finish the political and military conversations,’ he pleaded with Dalton and Greenwood, ‘we shall be neutral if there is a war.’ ‘Oily old dodger!’ was Greenwood’s comment as they left the embassy.
Dalton, Fateful Years, pp. 256–7.
After the initial shock, most ministers and Foreign Office officials ‘did not regard [the news] too tragically’. It seemed to have come as a relief, ‘justifying the suspicion of Russian good faith which some of us had long held & explained all these dilatory negotiations’. Besides, the government was desperately seeking an eleventh-hour agreement with Hitler to avert war, and that would render the Nazi–Soviet pact redundant.


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Dawson papers, diary, Box 43, 22 Aug. 1939; McDonald, A Man of the Times, pp. 64–7. The most vivid description of these moves is in the Inskip papers, INSK2, diary, 23–30 Aug. 1939: ‘The P.M. is writing a separate letter to Hitler, – the Cabinet were not told this. A long telegram to Kennard at Warsaw … telling him to get the Poles to talk to Germany.’ Halifax, who had received information from Dusseldorf ‘that the crowd is pulling down Nazi posters’ still hoped for an uprising in Germany.
Still working towards a positive conclusion of the negotiations, Maisky hastily informed Molotov that ‘the panic’ which seized the political circles had given way to a more complacent mood which did not exclude the continuation of the talks.
At the same time, he held frenzied talks with members of the government and the opposition to ward off accusations of ‘duplicity’, in anticipation of the parliamentary debate set for 24 August. He hastily dictated to Lloyd George – who was ‘depressed and pessimistic’ – a ‘defence line’, which the ‘old fox’ did indeed forcefully deliver in parliament, based on a detailed and apologetic narrative of the course of the negotiations.
God Krizisa, II, no. 592; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/130 and Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/39.
‘If Russia had been on our side,’ concluded Lloyd George, ‘we should not now be discussing peace negotiations … we should have crushed Hitlerism like an eggshell’.
Both the dictated notes and the speech are in the Sylvester papers, diary, A45, 24 Aug. 1939.
]
23 August
Nevile Henderson has been to Berchtesgaden and handed Hitler a personal letter from Chamberlain, in which the latter brought it to the Führer’s notice that, in the event of German aggression against Poland, England would fulfil


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the pledges she had undertaken. Hitler replied in the sharpest terms that no British letter would stop Germany securing her ‘vital interests’.
Ribbentrop has flown in to Moscow surrounded by 32 attendants! That’s just like him. I remember that when he was ambassador in Britain, he travelled between London and Berlin accompanied by no fewer than 30–40 adjutants. The negotiations have already begun.
Boothby telephoned. In his private capacity, but on behalf of his friends in the government, he expressed the hope that the following would be made clear to Ribbentrop in Moscow: in the event of war, the USSR would have its hands free. This could save the peace. Several Conservative MPs spoke to me in the same vein today.
The Greek and Danish envoys came by. Both are very worried and frightened. Especially the Dane. He confessed to me directly that he failed to see any way out of the situation except war.
Preparations for an emergency are in full swing in the city. Shelters are being dug, piles of sandbags are being heaped up in front of buildings, windows are being blacked out, museums and picture galleries are being emptied, the evacuation of schools, women and children is being organized, and instructions are being given over the radio about what to do with… cats and dogs.
Tension is growing, along with the expectation of something frightful, menacing and unavoidable. Is this serious? Or are these just psychological preparations for a new Munich? We’ll see. There’s no doubt that Chamberlain would like a second Munich very much. The trouble is that Hitler’s appetite is growing fast, which makes a repeat of Munich more difficult.
What if Poland decides to fight? What then? Will Britain and France support her? Who knows? The experience of the past year obliges one to be cautious in making predictions.
Beneš came over for lunch. A short, skinny, sprightly man with bright eyes and greying hair. We conversed tête-à-tête. Beneš thanked me for my action in connection with his telegram to the League of Nations at the Council session in May. Then he familiarized me with his plans.
He is staking everything on war, a great European war in the nearest future. Only such a war can lead to the liberation of Czechoslovakia. Beneš kept asking me what I thought about the likelihood of an imminent war, and noted with satisfaction every remark I made that could be interpreted as suggesting that war would break out in the next few weeks or even days.
In concrete terms, Beneš’s thoughts are as follows. If war breaks out in the nearest future, he will form a Czechoslovak government under his premiership and seek recognition from the United States, Britain, France and the Soviet Union. A historical precedent exists: Belgium in the First World War. Nearly all Belgium’s territory was occupied by the enemy, but the Belgian


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government continued functioning in France and was recognized by the Allies. The Czechoslovak territory is now also occupied by the enemy, but the Czechoslovak government could function in England and be recognized by the said four powers. Beneš already has his ‘chancellery’ in London: the embryo of the future government.
Beneš’s misconstrued account in his memoirs of his conversation with Maisky is a reinterpretation of the Munich Agreement in the face of the brewing Cold War and the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia, and has misled historians. See I. Lukes, The Munich Crisis, 1938: Prelude to World War II (London, 1999), p. 40; J. Barros and R. Gregor, Double Deception: Stalin, Hitler, and the invasion of Russia (Chicago, 1995), ch. 1. Beneš’s anachronistic impressions were that ‘the Soviets want war, they prepared for it conscientiously’ and were convinced that ‘the time has come for a final struggle between capitalism, fascism and Nazism and that there will be a world revolution which they will trigger’ when the rest of the world is exhausted by the war. See E. Beneš, Memoirs of Dr Eduard Beneš (London, 1954), pp. 138–9.
In the event of war, Czechoslovakia plans to form its national army in France, comprising one or two divisions. It will form part of the French armed forces, but it will retain national command and colours. The army will be recruited from Czechoslovak émigrés, whose total number in all countries reaches 100,000. Presently, up to 2,000 Czechoslovak officers have been enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. In the event of war, they will command the Czechoslovak troops. A Czechoslovak division might also be formed on the eastern front, in Poland, but this is less certain as yet. The French government views Beneš’s military plans with sympathy.
In financial terms, the Czechoslovak movement is more or less secure. It is financed by various sources, and particularly generously by American Czechs, but never by foreign powers. Beneš’s ties with Czechoslovakia are very tight. He receives complete and reliable information from his country almost daily.
Roosevelt is fully sympathetic towards Beneš’s plans. Beneš had a couple of meetings with the president during his visit to America. Beneš told me with obvious satisfaction that Sumner Welles
Benjamin Sumner Welles, American under secretary of state, 1937–43.
(under secretary of state) had visited him at his place on behalf of the president on the eve of his departure from the United States and told him: ‘For me, you are still the president of Czechoslovakia.’
I asked Beneš what the British government thought of his plans.
Beneš replied that he had not yet discussed his plans with the British government and had not had meetings with any of the Cabinet members, but intended to do so very soon. Beneš was interested in the Soviet government’s opinion on the same matter. I promised to find this out for him.
Naturally, we also spoke about current events. Beneš seemed somewhat puzzled by the reports in the press concerning Ribbentrop’s visit to Moscow to sign a non-aggression pact, but he didn’t seem greatly concerned. Beneš told me in this connection that Hilger,
Gustav Hilger, economic and political expert in the German embassy in Moscow, 1923–41.
the German embassy counsellor in Moscow, went to Berlin in early August and made a report on the Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations to German leaders, mostly the military. It was decided at that meeting that the immediate signing of a non-aggression pact with the USSR was essential in order to counteract Britain and France. Hitler objected at first, but the military succeeded in winning him over by skilfully arguing that a war


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on two fronts might otherwise arise. The result was Ribbentrop’s journey to Moscow.
Hitler’s plan is to secure Soviet neutrality, crush Poland in three weeks, and then turn to the west against Britain and France. Italy will probably remain neutral, at least in the first phase of the war. That was the subject of Ciano’s recent talks with Ribbentrop in Salzburg and then with Hitler in Berchtesgaden. The Italians don’t want to shed blood over Danzig, and a war stemming from a German–Polish dispute would be most unpopular in Italy. Besides, the combat capability of the Italian army is highly questionable. Italy’s economic situation is lamentable. She has neither oil, nor iron, nor cotton, nor coal. Should Italy take part in the war, she would be a heavy burden – military and economic – to Germany. That is why, in the end, Hitler did not object to Italy retaining neutrality.
Germany has already mobilized 2 million people. Another million and a half were called to arms three days ago. With such forces Hitler hopes to implement his plan single-handed.
24 August
Yesterday, late at night, the non-aggression pact between the USSR and Germany was signed in Moscow, and today Ribbentrop is flying back. The pact stipulates consultations between the governments on matters of mutual interest, and does not contain an escape clause. The duration of the pact is ten years.
Our policy is obviously undergoing a sharp change of direction, the meaning and consequences of which are not yet entirely clear to me. I must wait for further information from Moscow.
In London, there is confusion and indignation. Labourites are especially furious. They accuse us of betraying our principles, rejecting the past, and extending a hand to fascism. Difficulties arose in the ‘Anglo-Russian Parliamentary Committee’. Coates
William Coates, Labour MP and secretary of the Anglo-Russian Parliamentary Committee.
rushes like a madman between us and the Labourites and doesn’t know what to do.
But there is no need to be embarrassed. One should keep one’s self-control and composure. The Labourites will quieten down. ‘This too will pass!’
The Conservatives are far calmer.
Even the Webbs were ‘dazed … knocked almost senseless!’; it was a ‘terrible collapse of good faith and integrity’. However, they conceded that perhaps British ‘manners’ had been better but the ‘morals have been strikingly similar’. Beatrice felt sorry for ‘the poor Maiskys and all the Soviet diplomatists … they will be ostracised’; Webb, diary, 25 Sep. 1939, pp. 6711–14.
They never seriously believed either in the League of Nations or collective security, and take a much more straightforward view of Europe’s return to a policy of ‘national interest’. As if they are returning home from a ‘Palace of Peace’ – a lofty and solemn building, but one which they are not used to and find terribly uncomfortable.


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26 August
The shock elicited by the Soviet–German pact of non-aggression is gradually subsiding. The Conservatives continue to behave in a very restrained manner, and before the parliamentary session on 24 August, Chamberlain asked Greenwood ‘to go slow’ and not to attack the USSR too harshly in connection with the pact. Greenwood and other leading Labourites who spoke during the session did indeed behave quite decently this time. But the backbenchers gave vent to their feelings and heaped abuse on the USSR. The foulest speech on the 24th was given by the ‘Independent’ MP, McGovern,
John McGovern, Independent Labour Party MP, 1930–47.
yet it notably failed to draw approval from the House. The Daily Herald set new records for vileness. But, as I’ve said, passions seem to have started cooling off a bit in the last two days, and Labour is slowly coming to its senses. At every step you hear: how could the Soviet Union, a socialist state, enter into an alliance with the ‘Nazis’? Aren’t they foolish, those Labourites! They don’t understand the ABC of Soviet foreign policy. The Liberals understand it better, and not only Lloyd George; men such as Mander also take a quite acceptable position.
Chamberlain certainly knows how to wind Labour round his little finger! He told Greenwood the other day that during the Moscow talks the French had divulged all their military secrets. The British had been more cautious and said very little.
‘I tremble when I think of the use the Soviet government might make of the information it obtained!’ Chamberlain concluded.
Greenwood is obviously ‘trembling’ as well! That’s something I’ve learnt today for certain.
A new Munich is looming. Roosevelt, the pope, Leopold of Belgium – all are openly striving for it. Mussolini strives behind the scenes. Chamberlain sleeps and dreams of appeasement. Should Hitler show himself to be in the least compliant, the experience of last year may be repeated. But will he? Everything depends on Hitler.
28 August
Here is an account of the course of the Anglo-German talks over the last four days.
In the afternoon of the 25th, Hitler summoned Henderson and talked with him for more than an hour. Hitler declared most resolutely that he must have Danzig and the ‘Corridor’ immediately. After that he would be willing to discuss at any given conference more general problems, such as those of trade,


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colonies and disarmament. Moreover, Hitler let it be understood that Germany would need a loan to convert military industries into civilian ones, and that he does not insist on the compulsory return of all former colonies to Germany, but would be prepared to accept a corresponding equivalent (i.e. compensation at the expense of France, Belgium, Holland and others). But all this could happen only after he got Danzig and the ‘Corridor’. No outsiders should interfere in the settling of the problem of Danzig and the ‘Corridor’. It was an entirely German affair. Hitler boasted at this point that after the signing of the German–Soviet pact, Poland’s position was hopeless and she would not risk going to war. In conclusion, Hitler asked Henderson to proceed to London and personally report their conversation to the British government.
On the morning of the 26th, Henderson flew to London. The Cabinet met in the evening of the 26th, and on the 27th and 28th, and the result was the reply which Henderson brought to Berlin today. The British government had discussed its response with Washington, Paris and Warsaw. The reply boils down to the following: the British government recommends settling the difficulties that have arisen by means of peaceful negotiation between Berlin and Warsaw and, should Hitler accept this, promises to consider at a conference the more general problems which he raised in his talk with Henderson on the 25th. At the same time, the British government firmly declares its intention to fulfil all its obligations to Poland.
Today, at 10.30 p.m., Henderson handed Hitler the British government’s reply.
What will be the next step? War or peace?…
29 August
A day of anxiety and suspense.
Hitler has received the British reply and must now decide what to do. Enter into peaceful negotiations with Poland? Deliver an ultimatum to Poland? Simply attack Poland without prior warning? Or resort to diplomatic trickery against Britain and France?
The fates of war and peace are being weighed on unsteady, quivering scales, and who can tell what the next day will bring?
The people have become extraordinarily modest in their demands. Answering my question about the City’s response to the latest events, Davidson
Basil Risbridger Davidson, on the editorial staff of The Economist, 1938–39; diplomatic correspondent for The Star, 1939.
from the Economist said: ‘It seems that war will not begin in the next 24 hours – so the City is calmer today than yesterday.’


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In the next 24 hours! Now even that is considered a consolation.
Parliament met. Chamberlain made a short announcement, in which he said that nothing had changed since the session of 24 August, and that the threat of war had not diminished. The prime minister further noted the most important events of the last few days, such as Henderson’s arrival and the British reply to Hitler’s proposal, and once again emphasized that Britain would honour its obligations towards Poland. On the whole, the prime minister’s speech sounded quite resolute. Greenwood and Sinclair said a few words pledging the opposition’s support for the government. The last speaker was Gallacher. The MPs did not wish to give the floor to him at first, but he overcame their resistance and suggested that through the Speaker, parliament should address other parliaments, particularly the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, which was currently in session in Moscow, and call upon them to join forces in the struggle for peace. The MPs listened calmly to the concluding part of Gallacher’s speech. The session, which had lasted not more than 40 minutes, was then closed.
Towards evening, it became known that Hitler had handed Henderson his reply to the British government’s statement and that the reply was being conveyed to London ‘through the normal diplomatic channels’. What does this mean? It’s not the sound of a fist hitting the table. Not an ultimatum to Poland. What is it? Is he putting the brakes on? Unlikely. Hitler has gone too far, especially after his letter to Daladier, and it would be difficult for him to retreat. But perhaps he needs an extra day or two for some reason or other and is therefore delaying the decisive move. They say that some 700,000 tons of German commercial shipping are out at sea, within reach of the British and the French, and Hitler wants to give the ships time to hide in neutral ports or return home. Maybe. We shall see.
Planes are constantly buzzing in the air. At night the searchlights’ flashing swords furrow the sky, ‘catching’ enemy bombers.
In Moscow, a quite different mood clearly reigns: they are not expecting war, and are counting on a new Munich. Here are the facts.
A few days ago I asked NKID whether it was safe to send confidential materials by diplomatic mail, in view of the possible disruption of the railways or even the opening of hostilities between Germany and Poland in the nearest future. I received the reply: send mail in the normal fashion – and in such a tone that Moscow clearly wished to tell me: ‘Don’t panic!’ Nevertheless I did not send confidential materials with the couriers. And I was quite right not to do so. Today I learned that these couriers have got stuck in Berlin.
On 27 August, NKID informed me that I have been appointed head of the Soviet delegation to the League of Nations Assembly scheduled for 11 September. Thanks for the vote of confidence. I doubt, however, whether the Assembly will take place in the present situation.


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Today, 29 August, the Kooperatsiya set sail from Leningrad with members of the Red Banner Song and Dance Company on board. Tomorrow, the 30th, the Mariya Ulyanova
The ship was named after Lenin’s sister, Mariya Ilinichna Ulyanova.
should leave with the others. In Southampton, the Company is to board the Aquitania, bound for America. I fear, however, that this may not happen: new events may force the Company to return to the USSR.
30 August
Hitler’s reply to the British note given to him by Henderson on the evening of the 28th amounts to the following. Hitler declares his desire to live in friendship with Britain and his willingness to respect ‘the independence of Poland’. He further agrees to conduct direct negotiations with Poland and asks the British to exercise their influence in Warsaw to ensure the urgent arrival of a ‘Polish plenipotentiary’ in Berlin, but he insists that Danzig and the ‘Corridor’ should be given to Germany right away, after which he will negotiate the settlement of economic issues with Warsaw. It appears as though Hitler expects the arrival of a Polish Hácha
Emil Dominik Hácha, president of Czechoslovakia from 1938 to 1939, he surrendered the rest of Czechoslovakia to Hitler in March 1939.
in Berlin, and that he intends to establish an economic protectorate over Poland. It is also most interesting that Hitler agrees to guarantee the new Polish borders only if the Soviet Union will do the same.
The Cabinet met today and sent a message to Berlin. In its message the British government promises to use its influence in Warsaw to facilitate the opening of direct negotiations between Germany and Poland, but on condition that the status quo is maintained during the negotiations and that both border incidents and the anti-Polish campaign in the German press should cease. As soon as the Polish question is settled, the British government will be ready to take part in discussion of the more general questions which Hitler raised during his meeting with Henderson on 25 August.
A strong smell of Munich in the air. But will Hitler accept the British proposal? Will the Poles accept it? Let’s wait and see.
31 August
Another day of tension and suspense. What will Hitler say or do in response to yesterday’s communication from the British government?
Various visitors came to see me, talked, asked questions, complained, expressed astonishment. I had to give clarifications and explanations to all of them. This seems to yield some results.


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At about five o’clock, Agniya and I got into a small car and drove around town to see what was going on. It was the end of the working day. The usual hustle and bustle in the streets, on the underground, and on the buses and trams. But no more than usual. All the shops are trading. The cafés are open. The newspaper vendors shout out the headlines. In general, the city looks normal. Only the sandbags under the windows and the yellow signs with arrows pointing to the nearest bomb shelters indicate that England is on the verge of war.
In the evening, Agniya and I went to the Globe to see Oscar Wilde’s delicious comedy The Importance of Being Earnest. The actors were superb. An image of the ‘good old times’ – without automobiles, radio, aeroplanes, air raids, Hitlers and Mussolinis – seemed to come alive. People were funny and naive then, to judge by today’s standards. We laughed for two hours. That’s something to be grateful for.
When we got back from the theatre, the radio brought sensational news: the 16 points which Hitler demands from Poland. The immediate return of Danzig, a plebiscite in the ‘Corridor’, an international committee made up of Italian, British, French and Soviet representatives, a vote in 1940, and so on and so forth.
What’s this? A step back? Slowing down?
I doubt it. It’s too late for Hitler to retreat. It’s almost certainly a manoeuvre. Is it an attempt to hoodwink the world’s public and perhaps the German people as well before a decisive ‘leap’?
1 September
Yesterday’s doubts have been fully justified. Today, early in the morning, Germany attacked Poland without any prior warning and began bombing Polish cities. The Polish army and air force are putting up strong resistance everywhere.
So, war has begun. A great historical knot has been loosened. The first stone has rolled down the slope. Many more will follow. Today, the world has crossed the threshold of a new epoch. It will emerge from it much changed. The time of great transformations in the life of humankind is nigh. I think I’ll live to see them unless, of course, some crazy incident cuts my days short…
Parliament met at six in the evening. As I drove up to Westminster, photographers began snapping away. And why not? What a sensation: the Soviet ambassador at a parliamentary session on the matter of war. And this directly after the signing of the Soviet–German pact!
A nervous and panicky mood reigned in the corridors of parliament. A motley crowd of every age and status had gathered. There were many rather young women and girls, gesticulating frantically and speaking in raised voices.


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I walked down the corridors, was saluted in the usual manner by the parliament policemen, and approached the entrance to the diplomatic gallery. It was quite jammed with ambassadors, envoys, high commissioners and other ‘notables’. As soon as the door attendant caught sight of me, he pushed back a few ‘ministers’ to clear a narrow path for me to the staircase. On the way, I greeted the Rumanian, the Dane, the Egyptian, the Finn and a few other diplomats. I immediately sensed the atmosphere: an attitude of restrained hostility, but with a hint of deference.
The same was repeated upstairs, where I squeezed past some distinguished strangers and sat down on the front bench next to Guo Taiqi. We greeted each other in a friendly fashion, as we always do. Raczyński, who sat down on the other side of Taiqi, shook my hand and did so, it seemed, with a certain feeling. As for Cartier (the Belgian) and Corbin, who has turned quite grey over these past few weeks, they barely stretched out their hands. I responded by offering just a couple of fingers. Kennedy immediately leapt out of his seat when he saw that we would be neighbours, made a clumsy gesture, and took a seat in the second row (the ‘envoys’ row’), his great vanity as American ambassador notwithstanding. The events of recent days have certainly affected the mood in diplomatic circles.
I looked down. The small chamber of the Commons was full to bursting with agitated, tense MPs. They were packed in like sardines. The government bench was just the same. All the stars – if there are any – were present: Chamberlain, Simon, Hore-Belisha, Kingsley Wood, Brown,
Ernest Brown, minister of labour, 1935–40; minister of national service, 1939–40; secretary of state for Scotland, 1940–41; minister of health, 1941–43.
Inskip and the rest. All the opposition ‘stars’ were also in attendance on the front bench, minus Attlee, who has not yet fully recovered from a recent operation. The atmosphere was heavy, menacing and oppressive. The galleries of the Lords, the press and guests were jam-packed. Near the ‘clock’, wearing plain grey suits, sat the duke of Gloucester and the duke of Kent. A few MPs were in khaki, among them Captain Macnamara,
John Macnamara, Conservative MP, 1935–44.
who has paid me several visits on Spanish matters. All eyes were trained on me. The mood was the same: restrained hostility, but with a hint of deference. I calmly endured this bombardment of glances. Then I began to make out individual faces. Lady Astor, as is her custom, seemed to be sitting on needles, and looked at me as if she meant to grab me by the hair. Mander, Nicolson and Ellen Wilkinson
Ellen Wilkinson, Labour MP nicknamed ‘Red Ellen’ for her militant and activist role in the trade union movement; parliamentary secretary, Ministry of Home Security, 1940–45.
looked at me with friendly, sparkling eyes. I had the impression that Eden also cast a quick, and not remotely hostile, glance at me, but I can’t say for sure.


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The speeches were brief and failed completely to rise to the great historical level of the occasion.
Chamberlain, looking terribly depressed and speaking in a quiet, lifeless voice, confessed that 18 months ago (when Eden retired!) he prayed not to have to take upon himself the responsibility for declaring war, but now he fears that he will not be able to avoid it. But the true responsibility for the unleashing of war lies not with the prime minister, but ‘on the shoulders of one man – the German Chancellor’, who has not hesitated to hurl mankind into the abyss of immense suffering ‘to serve his senseless ambitions’. After giving a brief account of the negotiations between London and Berlin over the past few days, Chamberlain declared that today the British and French ambassadors in Germany handed Ribbentrop a note demanding that the German government stop Germany’s aggression against Poland and withdraw German troops from her territory. Should this not be done (and the PM, of course, did not expect the demand to be fulfilled), the British and French ambassadors would have to ask for their passports, and Britain and France would come to the aid of Poland using all the means available to them. This would mean war, a long and hard war, but ‘it only remains for us to grit our teeth and see it through to the end’.
His actual words were: ‘it only remains for us to set our teeth and to enter upon this struggle, which we ourselves earnestly endeavoured to avoid, with determination to see it through to the end’; Hansard, HC Deb 1 September 1939, vol. 351, col. 132.
As long as Germany is headed by her present government, there can be no peace in Europe.
Strong and serious words. At times, Chamberlain even tried to bang his fist on the famous ‘box’ on the Speaker’s table. But everything cost him such torment and was expressed with such despair in his eyes, voice and gestures that it was sickening to watch him. And this is the head of the British Empire at the most critical moment in its history! He is not the head of the British Empire, but its grave-digger!
In his diary, Sylvester describes how Chamberlain was ‘dumbfounded’ when Greenwood took the floor to shouts from all sides: ‘Speak for England.’ Sylvester papers, diary, A45, 2 Sep. 1939.
Greenwood spoke next. His speech was full of commonplaces and soap-box ranting, but at one point (though he may not have realized it himself) some truly prophetic words slipped out. ‘In the course of this struggle,’ said Greenwood, ‘great and profound economic and social changes will occur, which are difficult to foresee today. But one thing is clear: a new social order will arise from the smouldering ruins of this struggle.’
Correct.
Sinclair followed Greenwood. His speech was even shorter. He said that war had begun not this morning in Poland, but with the occupation of the Rhineland three years ago. Its aim was the domination of Germany in Europe and the whole world. In this war, Germany had had consecutive, albeit temporary, successes in Spain, Austria, Czechoslovakia and, finally, Russia. Sinclair demanded immediate assistance to Poland.
Nobody else spoke. All the speeches took no more than 45 minutes.


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The House moved on to discuss bills submitted by the government in connection with the impending war. By 11 p.m., 16 bills had passed all three readings. I, together with other diplomats, left Westminster after Sinclair’s speech, that is, after the general part of the session was over.
Leaving parliament, I felt that something of exceptional importance had happened in the world. The first step had been made in the quick march of events which would bring Europe and possibly the whole world to new shores.
Unless an extraordinary miracle happens at the very last moment, Britain will find itself at war with Germany within the next 48 hours.
2 September
In announcing yesterday the British government’s demand that Hitler cease hostilities and withdraw German troops from Poland, Chamberlain failed to say how long he was prepared to wait for his demand to be fulfilled or for a reply to his note to arrive. What did the 1 September note mean? Was it an ultimatum or wasn’t it? If it was an ultimatum, then why was a final date not indicated? If it wasn’t, then why did it contain a demand to withdraw troops and the threat of hostilities being opened?
The explanation is straightforward enough. Even at this very late stage, Chamberlain hoped to escape the trap which he had been preparing for us and into which he had fallen himself. At his instigation, Mussolini has expended a great deal of energy over the past two days in trying to cobble together either a five-power conference or some rotten ‘compromise’ to prevent war. So Chamberlain wished to buy himself at least two more days, or even just one, for manoeuvring.
This created an atmosphere of distrust and suspicion towards the PM’s actions, both in the country and in the House. This mood broke through yesterday evening in the speeches of Greenwood and Sinclair.
At about eight o’clock Chamberlain announced in the House that Henderson had not yet received a reply to his 1 September note from Ribbentrop, that this could perhaps be explained by Mussolini’s efforts, mentioned above, and that the British government was consulting with Paris as to how long Britain and France were prepared to wait for Hitler’s reply. The prime minister’s announcement drew a sharp response from Greenwood. He demanded that the PM give an immediate answer to the question: war or peace? He said that the present tension and uncertainty could not continue any longer, that an act of aggression had been committed 38 hours earlier, that Britain had not yet offered its assistance to Poland, and that the country’s interests and honour were at stake.
Sinclair spoke in the same vein.


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Chamberlain took the floor for the second time and declared that he would have been horrified had anyone thought he could hesitate at such a moment as this. He referred to the need to agree his every move with the French government, which rendered a certain delay inevitable. Lastly, he promised to make a definite and categorical statement in parliament tomorrow.
The denouement is approaching.
***
The situation clarified itself late at night. Chief whip Margesson brought it to the prime minister’s attention that the mood in the Conservative Party was very ugly and that if the PM did not declare war on Germany the next day, the Cabinet would undoubtedly collapse. Chamberlain found himself forced to give in. At midnight an emergency Cabinet meeting was held, at which the decision was taken to declare war tomorrow.
3 September
Today, the denouement really did take place.
At 9 a.m. Henderson, acting on instructions from London, handed Ribbentrop the ‘final note’, in which the British government asked the German government to present by 11 a.m. its final response to the note of 1 September, which contained the demand to withdraw German troops from Polish territory. In addition, the British government warned that if the German government failed to present its reply before eleven o’clock, this would signify the breaking-off of relations and the beginning of war.
It goes without saying that no reply followed from Hitler. As a result, the prime minister went on air at 11.15 a.m. and declared that, as of then, Britain was at war with Germany.
Half an hour later, the air filled with the bellowing sounds of the siren. People scampered off to their houses, the streets emptied, and cars stopped in the road. What was it? A drill? Or a genuine raid by German bombers?
Fifteen minutes of tension and anxiety – then we heard the prolonged siren wail: ‘all clear’! It had been just a drill. There were no enemy planes.
I got to parliament by midday. I was a couple of minutes late because of the alarm.
Rhodes, Chips, p. 215: ‘A little later Maisky dared to appear, and he beamed his Cheshire-cat smile. No wonder. It is the moment he has long intrigued and hoped for.’
I took the first available seat in the second row. Chamberlain was already speaking. A darkened, emaciated face. A tearful, broken voice. Bitter, despairing gestures. A shattered, washed-up man. However, to do him justice, the prime minister did not hide the fact that catastrophe had befallen him.
‘This is a sad day for all of us,’ he said, ‘and to none is it sadder than to me. Everything that I have worked for, everything that I hoped for, everything that I have believed in during my public life – has crashed into ruins.’


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I sat, listened and thought: ‘This is the leader of a great Empire on a crucial day of its existence! An old, leaky, faded umbrella! Whom can he save? If Chamberlain remains prime minister for much longer, the Empire is ruined.’
The House was full, but not as crammed as on 1 September. The electricity that so charged the atmosphere two days ago was absent. Everything bore [indecipherable].
Gallacher was last to take the floor. He spoke for just a few minutes: he was for the defeat of the ‘Nazi regime’, but he was not prepared to break with his ‘class comrades in the Soviet Union’.
The entire meeting lasted about 45 minutes.
So, war has begun! How will Britain and the whole world look in a year’s or two years’ time?…
4 September
The second day of the war!
Yesterday, 200 miles west of the Hebrides islands in the Atlantic Ocean, a submarine sank the British liner Athenia, which was heading for Canada. On board there were 1,400 passengers, including more than 300 Americans. Most of them were rescued, but the fate of 200 to 300 is unknown. A good Auftakt [prelude] for the start of the war. The Germans are true to themselves. They have learnt nothing since the era of Tirpitz.
Alfred von Tirpitz, commander of the German navy forces, 1914–16.
On the night of the 3rd, British aeroplanes dropped 6 million leaflets in Western Germany, addressed to the German people. And this evening a British air squadron bombed German warships at Wilhelmshafen, Cuxhafen and Brünsbuttel. The British have sustained losses, but two German ships have been hit.
German troops are advancing fast from East Prussia and Pomerania, from the direction of Breslau. The Germans’ first aim is to occupy the Corridor and they seem to be closing in on their objective. The Corridor is so narrow that it is difficult for the Poles to defend it against simultaneous attacks from both sides. The Germans are also putting pressure on Silesia. The Poles are defending themselves, but more feebly than might have been expected. Why? Perhaps they haven’t yet taken up their positions?
The French have begun an offensive on the western front. They are approaching the German border and establishing ‘contact’ with the enemy.
The Yugoslavian envoy Subbotić
Ivan Subbotić, Yugoslav ambassador to Great Britain, 1939–41.
dropped in. He told me about the compromise that had been reached in his country between the Serbs and the


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Croats, and emphasized that Yugoslavia wished to remain neutral whatever the circumstances.
5 September
Chamberlain has carried out a ‘reconstruction’ of his Cabinet. Everything was done the Chamberlain way, i.e. halfway and with much splitting of hairs. His former Cabinet has swollen a bit in quantity, but has altered little in quality. A few ministers have swapped places. ‘Fresh blood’ was added in the persons of Churchill (first lord of the Admiralty) and Eden (secretary for the dominions). Gwilym Lloyd George was appointed parliamentary secretary at the Board of Trade.
Next, the ‘War Cabinet’ was formed, comprising nine members (Chamberlain, Halifax, Simon, Hoare, Chatfield, Hore-Belisha, Kingsley Wood, Churchill and Lord Hankey
Maurice Pascal Alers Hankey (1st Baron Hankey), minister without portfolio in War Cabinet, 1939–40; chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, 1940–41; paymaster general, 1941–2.
). Eden has been granted the right of ‘access’ to the Cabinet. Only three of the nine members of the War Cabinet are without portfolios (Chamberlain, Hoare and Hankey), while in Lloyd George’s War Cabinet during the last war, five out of six members did not hold ministerial positions and could devote all their time and efforts to the matter of conducting the war.
If the ‘reconstruction’ goes no further, Churchill and Eden will find themselves hostages, and Britain will surely lose the war. But I think that the ‘reconstruction’ cannot end at this point. This is just the beginning. Further steps will follow.
There are neither Labourites nor Liberals in the Cabinet. Chamberlain would not let them into the ‘War Cabinet’, and Sinclair, Greenwood and others did not want to be held responsible for government policy without being able to influence it.
The situation on the Polish front is not brilliant. The Germans advance, the Poles retreat. True, the press insists that the retreat is being conducted ‘as planned’, but one can hardly believe this in good conscience.
The British, meanwhile, have won an important victory in South Africa. Hertzog, who stood for South Africa’s neutrality in the current war, has retired, and in his place General Smuts is forming a government which will support Britain in the war. The majority of the South African parliament spoke against Hertzog.
7 September


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The Germans are having astonishing success in Poland. The Corridor has been occupied, Krakow has fallen, Łódź is under fire, the motorized sections of the German forces are closing in on Warsaw. The Polish government has evacuated and moved to Lublin.
And all this in the course of a single week!
The weakness of the Poles is quite striking. They are retreating everywhere. Nowhere can they hold out for more than a few hours, or one or two days at most. There have been no major, dogged conflicts. True, the Germans are pressing the Poles with their motorized forces and air force, but still… One can’t help thinking of Spain. Franco probably had no less technical superiority over the Republicans, but the Republican armies fought with astonishing stubbornness and true heroism! And what do we see here? Motorization is clearly not the whole story. It would seem that the current Polish state is rotten to the core. So deeply rotten that its army is unable to put up serious resistance to the enemy, even in the cause of the defence of national independence.
Yesterday, the British government granted Poland a loan of 8.5 million pounds. Is it not too late?
A tragicomic incident occurred early on the morning of 5 September. The sirens began blaring at about 6 a.m. and we all jumped out of our beds. Some of our embassy staff ran down to the basement with their families. We waited. All was quiet and normal. The all clear signal came after an hour and a half. By then my wife and I had already returned to the bedroom and got into bed. Later it transpired that there had been no air raid. A German reconnaissance plane had approached England’s eastern shore. Fighters had rushed to meet it. The German plane turned around and flew away. The fighters headed home. But as they approached their own shores, they were taken for enemy machines and were fired on by anti-aircraft guns. Fortunately, the mistake was promptly discovered, and none of the pilots seem to have been hurt.
Smuts has formed a government, and South Africa has declared war on Germany. Hertzog has decided to assume the role of loyal opposition for the time being. Will this last? We shall see.
[Once again, Maisky’s survival was hanging by a thread. The Daily Herald suggested that he was being recalled to Moscow to report. Beatrice Webb felt sorry for him, as his friends were bound to ‘fall off’. She was wondering whether their forthcoming encounter was ‘a farewell visit? I fear so … Poor Maiskys, we shall never see them again … With their friend, Litvinoff, they will disappear, let us hope safely, somewhere in the background of that enormous and enigmatic territory.’
Webb, diary, 3, 15 & 18 Sep. 1939, pp. 6720 & 6729–31.
In no time, however, Maisky bounced back, hoping that the inclusion in the Cabinet of Eden and Churchill, whom he had been cultivating for years now, would still bring the countries together.
See correspondence with both in RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1357 l.7 & d.1677 l.4, 7 Sept. 1939.
‘I earnestly hope,’ Churchill wrote for the first time on Admiralty notepaper, ‘all will go well between our two countries, and I am sure you will do all in your power to that


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end.’ Maisky was relieved to hear from Boothby that Churchill had indeed told him that ‘in those circumstances, it was the way he would expect that particular crocodile to behave’. If there was a change in government, Maisky threw down the gauntlet, ‘they might well be prepared to modify their attitude and even … co-operate with us’. ‘Winston Churchill,’ Maisky told the Webbs, ‘would be trusted by the Kremlin.’
Dalton papers, II, 5/2, letter from Dalton, 15 Sep.; Webb, diary, 2 Oct. 1939, p. 6743.
]
8 September
Just back from the Kooperatsiya.
A Soviet ship, carrying a folk dancing group to the United States, which was then stranded in London.
It was late in the evening when we drove back. An incredible sight.
The giant city was in pitch darkness. No street lamps (all removed!). No lights in the houses. No sparkling restaurant or café windows. No brightly lit signs or advertisements. Everything had gone dark, as if at the wave of a magic wand. Only the stars shone in the sky, along with the blind winking of the automatic traffic lights. But they, too, were on the wane: instead of the usual bright lights of red, yellow and green, little crosses, pale and slender, hung pensively on the sombre garments of the night.
Gloomy, darkened and lifeless buildings looked like menacing cliffs. The streets between them were black gorges. Cars moved slowly in the thick darkness, like ghostly shadows. Like magic birds with a red eye on their tail. Quiet. Gloomy. Watchful. Fantastical. A scene from Dante’s Inferno…
That is how London lies low, waiting for the raids of the German bombers.
I visited the Kooperatsiya for the following reason. On 29 and 30 August, the Red Banner Song and Dance Ensemble departed from Leningrad on board the Kooperatsiya and Mariya Ulyanova. Its destination was the fair in New York. In Southampton, the Ensemble was meant to board the Aquitania. It was going to give dozens of concerts and performances in America. Everything was ready. The contract had been signed.
Then, suddenly, war broke out! Navigation between England and America was disrupted. German submarines began sinking ships. Moscow decided to bring the Ensemble back home from England. Paris asked for one of our steamers to stop at Le Havre to pick up wives and children of personnel who wanted to be evacuated to the USSR. As a result, it was decided that the Mariya Ulyanova, which had come to Southampton directly from Leningrad, would sail to Le Havre, while two hundred Ensemble members would be taken off the ship (for reasons of safety) and bussed to London, where they would board the Kooperatsiya, which had brought 20 Ensemble members from Leningrad. And so it was done.
This evening, I visited the Kooperatsiya and discussed the international situation with the Ensemble.


Page 619

9 September
[Enclosed is a newspaper cutting with an article entitled ‘6000 Spies in Britain. Nearly All Are Under Detention. Scotland Yard’s Swoop’.]
Before the war of 1914, Scotland Yard kept a network of German spies in England under surveillance for a long time without arresting them. The Germans were off their guard. The day after war was declared, the entire network was arrested and put in prison. Germany found itself without informers at the time when it needed them most and was forced to create a new network during the war, which was very difficult. Of course, it could never be a patch on the old one.
The British seem to have used the same strategy now. But what a difference in numbers! If memory does not fail me, only 28 people were arrested in 1914, while in 1939 – 6,000. Everything in our time is becoming ‘colossal’, from ships to spy rings.
12 September
Finally today, at 5 p.m., the Kooperatsiya and Mariya Ulyanova sailed for Murmansk. What a palaver!
On 5 September, I got a message from Moscow that the Ensemble was to return home. I summoned Prof. Aleksandrov,
Aleksandr Vasilevich Aleksandrov, founder and artistic director of the Red (Soviet) Army Song and Dance Ensemble.
the Ensemble’s director, and Commissar Yurchenko from the Mariya Ulyanova in Southampton and informed them of the government’s decision. They were very disappointed, but nothing could be done.
Aleksandrov (and Milsky) stayed at the embassy, while Yurchenko went back to the Mariya Ulyanova. The first directive said: send the Ensemble to Murmansk. We took the Ensemble off the Mariya Ulyanova, brought it to London, and accommodated it temporarily on the Kooperatsiya. Meanwhile, the Mariya Ulyanova sailed to Le Havre to pick up the women and children waiting in Paris. Having done so, she was meant to return to London. Here, the Ensemble was meant to be divided more or less equally between the two steamers and head off homeward.
But no sooner had the Mariya Ulyanova reached Le Havre than we received a new directive: send the Ensemble via Gibraltar. All the plans had to be revised. Now the Mariya Ulyanova was to stay in Le Havre and wait for the Kooperatsiya. The transfer of passengers would take place not in London, but in Le Havre. The Kooperatsiya had to stock up with fuel and provisions in London for the 15–18 day voyage to Odessa.


Page 620

We had just begun arranging the southern route when a new message came: cancel Gibraltar and send the ships to Murmansk again!
The route had to be remade, the preparations revised, and the plans drawn up from scratch. The Ulyanova sails to Gravesend. The Kooperatsiya meets her there, and that is where the reloading and transfer of passengers now occurs. We plan the departure from Gravesend for 10 September. On the morning of that day, the Kooperatsiya departs from London Bridge and moors at Gravesend. Alas, owing to unforeseen circumstances, the Mariya Ulyanova is nearly 24 hours behind schedule and arrives in Gravesend on the afternoon of the 11th. Then everything begins: the transfer of passengers, various formalities, loading the mail and two tons of gold sent by Mosnarbank [Moscow People’s Bank] to Moscow… The crews of the two steamers ask permission to go ashore to spend their foreign currency. The identification marks for Soviet ships that have just been established by the Soviet government need to be painted on the sides and the decks. The pilots need to be spoken to. Additional provisions need to be obtained for the Kooperatsiya, to supplement what was given in London. In short, dozens of assignments, formalities, demands and negotiations with the authorities – meaning that the steamers only cast off today at 5 p.m.
A curious detail. In addition to the endless formalities introduced in connection with the war (licences for fuel, provisions, etc.), and in addition to the chilly but polite sabotage on the part of the irritated British authorities, there was one further misfortune. The Hay’s Wharf loading company that has worked with us for many years now presented, in a state of panic and vexation, bills which had not been paid by Narkomflot and which dated back to 1936. It called in the law and arrested the Kooperatsiya! Curses! We settled this unexpected conflict with the greatest difficulty and freed the Kooperatsiya. Korzh had to call the Foreign Office, the Board of Trade, the customs office, the pilotage service, and some other institutions which, though unknown to me, are very important for seamen. He pleaded, insisted, argued and threatened them with ‘the Ambassador’s intervention’…
In the end, everything was settled. The Kooperatsiya and Mariya Ulyanova embarked on their long voyage. Both steamers have experienced pilots. The route is the following: through territorial waters from Gravesend to Aberdeen with pilots, and then, without pilots, across the North Sea toward Norwegian shores. To be on the safe side, the Kooperatsiya carries the eastern group and the Mariya Ulyanova the western group of the Ensemble. The steamers will sail together at a distance of half an hour. If one is unlucky, the other will help.
Bon voyage! Everything humanly possible has been done to guarantee the Ensemble’s safe return home. The rest depends on the captains’ skill and on luck.


Page 621

13 September
‘Well hello, my neutral!’ said Lloyd George with a smile as I shook his hand in Churt today.
The old man wanted very much to see me. I came for lunch and we spent two hours in lively conversation.
Naturally, we spoke mostly about the war and related matters. I asked Lloyd George whether Britain would fight in earnest.
‘Yes, it will,’ Lloyd George replied with a toss of his grey mane. ‘Chamberlain, of course, wants peace. He’d be ready to make peace with Hitler tomorrow and pull off a second Munich. But he can’t do it. The country is against him.’
I pointed out the absence of military enthusiasm or of a visible patriotic surge such as had occurred at the beginning of the last war, but Lloyd George demurred: ‘Yes, that’s true. Today, you’ll not see that somewhat light-headed military enthusiasm which was so striking in 1914. I remember how easy it was then to arrange a noisy meeting in any village, with patriotic speeches and victorious shouting. You couldn’t do that now. But do not delude yourself: there is a grim determination in the masses – among workers, farmers, shopkeepers, intellectuals and the “middle class” – to carry the war to the end. A government that decided to ignore this would not last a fortnight.’
To prove his point, Lloyd George told me the story of how war was declared (about which I wrote on 2 and 3 September).
Lloyd George considers the so-called ‘reconstruction’ of the government carried out by Chamberlain to be a temporary tactic. In the near future, when the war starts in earnest, a quite different government will have to be formed, one truly capable of conducting a war.
I enquired whether the prime minister had offered Lloyd George a Cabinet position. Lloyd George burst out laughing, loudly and infectiously: ‘Neville would rather lose the war than let me into his government!’
Lloyd George is absolutely certain that any peace proposals made by Hitler after the Polish campaign will be rejected by London. The war will continue, but what kind of war?
After Poland’s defeat, which Lloyd George considers inevitable, the war will essentially take the following forms:
(1) Air warfare.
(2) Limited military operations on the Franco-German border. A breakthrough on the Siegfried Line would be likely to cost 1–2 million lives, which is a risk the French will never take. As for Britain, it will be a long time before it builds a large army for the continent.
(3) The blockade. This should do the main job, namely, strangle Germany’s economy, supply of provisions, and so on.


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As a result, there will be a revolution in Germany, and this will solve the problem of the war. But before things get to that stage, two or three years may pass.
Then Lloyd George moved on to the USSR.
‘Chamberlain’s greatest crime,’ he exclaimed, ‘are the Moscow talks! History will never forgive him! At the root of it, of course, is the prime minister’s class hostility to a socialist state. Narrow-minded, stupid hostility. Who is Chamberlain?’
Lloyd George shook his mane again, laughed, and exclaimed: ‘He is a manufacturer of iron beds! Yes, iron beds, and not very good beds at that! That is his place in life and that is the range of his vision! And this man currently stands at the head of the British Empire! He will destroy the Empire!’
Lloyd George liked Comrade Molotov’s speech,
In his speech to an extraordinary meeting of the Supreme Soviet, Molotov explained the circumstances which led to the pact with Germany and warned against the ‘warmongers


Page 975

who are accustomed to have other people pull their chestnuts out of the fire’; D.N. Pritt (ed.), Soviet Peace Policy: Four speeches by V. Molotov (London, 1941).
finding it sensible and convincing. Lloyd George understands our policy very well. It was the only way to act. But is the break between Britain and the USSR really final? Couldn’t something be done to restore more friendly relations between the two countries?
‘In the world of politics,’ I replied, ‘nothing is final. Everything is in flux. But for the moment, in all honesty, I see little likelihood of our countries drawing closer in the immediate future.’
Lloyd George shook his head and said: ‘For the moment, of course, Neville is in power, and there is little chance of a rapprochement. But what if he leaves office? And if a very different government comes to power?’
Lloyd George began talking quickly and fervently about how war in Britain would end with the triumph of socialism. I didn’t try to ask him exactly what kind of socialism he meant. That is not so important at this stage of development. What does matter is that a man like Lloyd George sees no way out for Britain but to replace the capitalist system with a socialist one.
14 September
The Swedish ambassador Prytz
Björn Prytz, Swedish ambassador to Great Britain, 1938–47.
came over for lunch today. He is greatly concerned by prospects for the near future. The newly established Ministry of Economic Warfare, led by Leith-Ross, poses the matter of neutrality as follows: we guarantee you normal imports of the foreign products you need, as long as you undertake to trade with Germany without exceeding the usual norms. Applied to Sweden, this means that Britain guarantees normal imports of coal, so long as Sweden does not sell more iron ore than before to Germany (7–8


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million tons annually, out of the total 11 million tons produced in Sweden). The Swedish government might be ready to go along with the British conditions, but what will Germany say? Moreover, Sweden is prepared to sell ore to Germany for cash only, but Germany does not have any cash. How will Germany react to the refusal to sell on credit? Will she regard it as a casus belli?
Prytz further complained of the difficulties which Swedish trade faces in Britain. What will the future bring? How to maintain trade with other countries when the Baltic Sea is blocked by Germany?
Before leaving, he told me a very funny story. He has an English butler. A quintessential English butler. When sirens began wailing on the morning of 4 September, the butler put on his most official uniform, knocked on the door of Prytz’s bedroom and said most respectfully: ‘May I suggest, Sir, that you retire to the cellar?’
Following the butler, in his ceremonial dress, Prytz and his wife proceeded to the cellar in their pyjamas, along with all the other members of the household, who’d put on whatever attire was at hand. A scene fit for the gods!
After this, there were no alarms for a week. Yesterday morning at tea, the butler, addressing Prytz with his usual deference, pronounced: ‘The nights are getting monotonous, Sir. Don’t you think so?’
[Prytz forged close relations with Maisky. Beatrice Webb found him to be ‘a cold-blooded philosopher, secularist in his outlook on man’s relation to the universe’ who preferred a


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Swedish alliance with the Soviet Union rather than with Germany. His attractive young wife, she noted, was ‘a great admirer of Maisky and a warm friend of MADBme Maisky. When I showed her Lenin’s portrait, given me by the Ship’s Captain who took us to Russia, she observed that Maisky had the same expression as the great genius who created the Soviet Union.’
Webb, diary, 25 July 1940, pp. 6933–5.
]
15 September
Chamberlain has not relinquished the idea of a new Munich. The compromise racket continues behind the scenes, with Mussolini and Kennedy, American ambassador in London, playing major roles. The latter is an advocate of ‘peace at any price’. He is terribly afraid of a revolution in Germany and of any revolution as a result of war.
What is behind it?
I’ve heard the following. The British government no longer has the slightest doubt that Poland is definitively lost. They expect that any day now Hitler will set up a ‘puppet government’ in Poland which will make peace with him, thereby relieving Britain and France of their obligations of guaranteeing Poland. Then the path to reconciliation with Germany, as well as to the ‘settlement’ of European issues, will be opened. The Labourites, Liberals and some Conservatives will, of course, be against a new Munich. To sweeten the pill, Chamberlain’s group has devised the following plan: to remove Hitler and some of the ‘extremists’ and make peace with Göring and the Reichswehr generals. The Daily Telegraph editorial of 13 September clearly hints at this. There is a further allusion to this in the PM’s recent speech in parliament, where he attacked not Germany, not the ‘Nazis’ and not ‘Nazism’, but ‘Hitler’ and ‘Hitlerism’.
It is easy enough to say, ‘Remove Hitler’, but how is this to be done? The Daily Telegraph recalls the history of the kaiser’s removal in the last war. The same, but different. The kaiser was removed, or removed himself, at the end of the fourth year of the war, when the German Empire had begun cracking at the seams. But Hitler is currently at the zenith of his power and fame. Just try to remove him!
Or are the British considering a terrorist act?…
17 September
Today, at 6 a.m., Potemkin handed a note to the Polish ambassador, Grzybowski,
Wacław Grzybowski, Polish ambassador to the USSR, 1936–39.
in which the Soviet government declared that since the Polish state has disintegrated and the Polish government has gone into exile, the Soviet–Polish non-aggression pact is null and void. Under these conditions,


Page 625

Poland in general, and especially its eastern part, has become a land where anything can be expected. In its eastern part there live 10–11 million Belorussians and Ukrainians, oppressed by the Polish state and Polish landlords. The conclusion: the Red Army is crossing the Polish border and occupying Western Belorussia and Western Ukraine in order to protect the population’s lives and property. At the same time, the Soviet government will undertake all possible measures to rescue the Polish people from the war into which their former leaders have dragged them and to provide them with the opportunity to live and work in peace.
At six o’clock in the morning, the Red Army began its offensive.
At 11.30 a.m., Comrade Molotov came on air with a speech explaining the motives and goals of the government’s decision.
All this struck London like a bolt from the blue. True, there has long been talk and suspicion here of a German–Soviet agreement to ‘partition Poland’, but the crossing of the Polish border by the Red Army has come as a real shock. A shock so great that today in the late afternoon Greenwood issued a ‘declaration’ sharply attacking the USSR and affirming that Poland must be restored.
What will be the response to our actions in England? Can England declare war on us as an ‘aggressor’ against Poland, which is under its guarantee? Might England, as a last resort, sever diplomatic relations with us?
I don’t think so. Such a policy is clearly beyond Britain’s capabilities for now. On the contrary, it will take pains to avoid anything that might further aggravate its current difficult position and facilitate the strengthening of ties between the USSR and Germany. That is why I expect a note of protest, an angry speech in parliament by the prime minister, and campaigns in the press, but nothing more.
19 September
My expectations are beginning to be fulfilled. Yesterday, late in the evening, the British government made a toothless statement, not even a protest, concerning our actions in Poland, and reaffirmed its determination to fight the war to the end. We shall see what Chamberlain says in parliament tomorrow.
Lord Davies came by. We had a long talk about the current situation. Davies takes quite a sensible view of things. When it comes to his aims for the future, however, he still lives in cloud cuckoo land. He brought me a memorandum where he proposes formulating the ‘war aims’ as the creation of a United States of Europe. He has already handed this memorandum to members of government and is now distributing it among diplomats.
The events of recent weeks have wreaked havoc with people’s minds. Gollancz is in despair: in his view, the Soviet–German pact killed off communism.


Page 626

Strachey, in connection with the same pact, came to Harry [Pollitt] with tears in his eyes. Cummings, writing in the News Chronicle (19 September), simply cannot make sense of things. Duff Cooper published an article in today’s Evening Standard about ‘Two Breeds of Bolshevism’ – communism and fascism. Every day I receive many letters – anonymous and otherwise – which show their authors to be in a quite incredible state of shock. Yes, the general muddle is on a colossal scale. And it is not easy to combat: there’s a lack of information and materials for that purpose. Besides, the entire press, especially on the Labour side, is now against us. The Daily Herald is the worst of all.
[Attached to the diary is a cutting from the Daily Telegraph of 19 September entitled ‘Britain Stands by Poland. Pledge Unaffected by New Invasion’.]
20 September
Went to the House. I was the focus of attention, for both the press and MPs.
Chamberlain lacked the guts even to make a sharp statement against the USSR. After setting out the chronological order of events and emphasizing in particular the promise of neutrality we had given to Britain and other countries in our note of 17 September, the PM declared that the Soviet action could not be justified by the arguments adduced by the Soviet government, but that, on the other hand, it was too early to give a final verdict on the motives and consequences of the Russian initiative. That was all. My forecast is confirmed yet again.
Greenwood was also more modest than might have been expected. True, he declared that one more power had committed an act of aggression, but moved on very quickly to other subjects and did not make a second mention of the events of 17 September. Sinclair spoke in a similar vein. Boothby, with whom I talked a few days ago, spoke very well. He warned the MPs against hasty conclusions and argued that the appearance of Soviet troops on the Polish–Rumanian border was a positive event and that the most dangerous thing would be ‘to indulge in fits of morality’, something which good Brits are very fond of. He was, of course, referring to Labour. In the following debates there was little of interest.
On leaving the diplomatic gallery, I met Strabolgi. We went to have tea. We had a serious and generally satisfactory conversation about the current situation.
21 September
Will England fight in earnest or not?


Page 627

What is certain is that current developments in the west are highly suspicious.
The French on the western front are presently occupied not with war, but with slow motion military exercise. The British ship troops across the Channel, mass them, organize and train them, but do not even participate in the drills which the French are so keen on. No air warfare as yet. British planes are busy dropping not bombs but toothless leaflets on Germany. Their one raid on Wilhelmshafen and Brünsbuttel, during which two German warships were hit, took place two weeks ago. Since then not a single raid! The Germans are also keeping quiet: no air raids yet on London or Paris. A real war is being waged and a real blockade maintained only at sea, but that is due to the fact that Churchill heads the Admiralty. Even at sea, however, they are fighting with kid gloves: the commanders of German submarines are vying with one another in gallantry, rescuing the crews of the ships they have sunk. English newspapers devote whole columns to glowing accounts of their feats.
No, this is not war! Particularly at a time when the situation in Poland demanded immediate and highly effective aid.
Now that Poland no longer exists, it is entirely reasonable to ask: will England fight in earnest or will she not?
History has played a cruel joke on the elite of the British bourgeoisie. Today, they really do find themselves between the devil and the deep [blue] sea.
If Britain refuses to fight and agrees to a new Munich (Chamberlain’s constant dream), the consequences will be not only direct losses in territory, capital and so on, but even greater indirect damage. The blow inflicted on its prestige and position in the world will be so devastating that the Empire will begin to crumble and its remaining ‘friends’ among neutral countries will turn their backs. Even the blind now realize that a new Munich will not guarantee Britain lasting peace. It will serve only as a prelude to further and more insatiable demands on the part of Hitler. Moreover, there is no doubt that a new Munich would have a psychological effect within the country such as would render renewed mobilization (should this becomes necessary six or twelve months later) simply impossible. Finally, a new Munich would almost certainly bring Chamberlain down, send acute tremors through the Conservative Party, and produce a very different political constellation in the country, which would augur no good to the upper ten thousand. Not to fight, therefore, is very dangerous.
On the other hand, fighting would mean facing the gravest military difficulties, sustaining colossal human and material losses and, in the end, coming round to ‘socialism’. The conviction that ‘socialism’ would be the inevitable result of a major war is now universal – even in bourgeois circles. Of course, everyone has his own idea about what kind of ‘socialism’ this would be,


Page 628

but all are convinced that there is no getting round it. So, to fight is also very dangerous.
No wonder the bourgeois leaders are in two minds. How will the war problem be resolved? It’s too early to say. But the possibility of a serious war cannot be excluded. Yesterday in parliament, Chamberlain stated once again, absolutely categorically, that the government was braced for a war that would last at least three years. This was not his first statement of the kind. If words mean anything, the B[ritish] G[overnment] has committed itself beyond the point of no return. All the more so as the mood among the masses is strongly in favour of war. But do the words of British ministers mean anything?…
22 September
If a ‘three-year war’ does become fact, then, to judge by the information I have gathered, it will take approximately the following forms:
(1) Fierce air warfare.
(2) Limited military operations (‘military pressure’) on the western front. Military experts estimate that a breakthrough on the Siegfried Line would cost 1–2 million lives. The Allies will not risk it.
(3) A very tight blockade by land and sea, including the introduction of ‘rations’ for neutral countries. The main hopes are pinned on the blockade, which should strangle Germany and bring about internal convulsions, possibly even a revolution. Hence, incidentally, the anticipation of a long war.
Boothby, quoting Churchill, said that Gamelin shares this conception of the war.
In light of the above, our position acquires immense importance. Will we supply Germany with raw materials and food or not? If we do, in what quantities and on what conditions? These questions concern everybody here. No wonder. The outcome of the blockade and, therefore, of the war depend on the answers to these questions.
Two circumstances are capable of undermining the conception set out above:
(1) Germany moving over to active operations on the western front (including the possible violation of the neutrality of Holland, Belgium and Switzerland). This would be true to Hitler’s spirit and would also conform with Germany’s direct interests, as she cannot risk a ‘three-year war’.
(2) Revolution in Germany. A revolution would alter radically the alignment of forces in Europe and would lead to the quick termination of war.
I visited Beneš at 26, Gwendolen Avenue, Putney. A quiet street, the quiet, cosy home of an average intellectual, the quiet footsteps of a few servants.
But the spirit of the house is far from quiet.


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Beneš, whom I had not seen for a month, told me about his affairs. A special 30,000-strong Czech army, under General Inger, is being formed in France. True, the French government does not want an ‘army’, but only a ‘legion’ (Osouský is for it, too), but Beneš is sure he will cope with this obstacle. A Czech military unit is also being formed in England. Here, it probably will be called a ‘legion’. Under the command of General Prchal, a Czech ‘legion’ some 800 strong has been organized in Poland. Beneš did not support this idea. He wanted to bring the legionaries from Poland to France. Everything was ready, but the Poles got in the way at the last minute. Beneš then recommended that Prchal at least station the legion somewhere near the Soviet border, thinking that if the Germans defeated the Poles (as Beneš was sure they would), the Czech legion would be able to retreat to the Soviet Union. As a result, the legion was stationed in Baranovichi, which has been recently occupied by the Red Army. Beneš asks the Soviet government to take care of the Czech legionaries and consider the expense of their upkeep as a loan granted to Czechoslovakia, which will certainly be restored as a result of the war. It would also be very good if the legionaries could be moved from the USSR to France. I said I would forward his request to Moscow, but I suspect that we, as a neutral country, can hardly undertake the transportation of legionaries to France. But we shall certainly render assistance to the legionaries in the USSR.
Beneš wants the Czech army to be put under the command of a Czech government. What is the attitude of the B[ritish] G[overnment] to the idea of a Czech government? Three days ago, Beneš had his first meeting with Halifax, who told him that the restoration of Czechoslovakia’s independence is one of the ‘war aims’ of the Allies. As for the recognition of a temporary Czechoslovak government, Halifax promised to think it over. The French government holds a similar position.
How does Beneš view the Red Army’s entry into Poland? He fully approves. He understands it and agrees entirely with our policy. The USSR could not have acted differently. He asks for one thing only: to make sure the USSR has a common border with Slovakia. This is very important.
‘I don’t know what government the free Czechoslovakia of the future will have,’ said Beneš. ‘It makes no odds to me. I’m not against a Soviet government. So long as Czechoslovakia is free and independent. So long as she rids herself of the German yoke.’
As far as ‘Ruthenia’ (Transcarpathian Ukraine) is concerned, Beneš thinks it should be incorporated into the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. Even during his time as president of the Czechoslovak Republic, he had envisaged ‘Ruthenia’ as part of the USSR.
Beneš regrets the recent revolt in Czechoslovakia. It was premature and merely led to heavy casualties. But nothing could be done. The situation was


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too tense in the localities. When it became known in Czechoslovakia that the Red Army had entered Poland, the revolt flared up spontaneously. But Czechoslovakia will not stop fighting. It has strength in abundance.
Beneš thinks that the war will be a long and serious one. Moreover, he has the impression that in this respect England’s attitude is far tougher than that of France.
23 September
Today, quite out of the blue, Halifax invited me over. I hadn’t seen him for almost two months, since 25 July. Total chaos reigned in the familiar corridors of the Foreign Office: tables, bookcases, files, boxes, papers – all piled up in complete disorder. They must have been making some additional arrangements in the event of air raids.
My talk with Halifax lasted 20–25 minutes. The atmosphere was tense and unnatural throughout. Halifax spoke slowly and chose his words carefully. He often paused, sighed and stared at the ceiling. He was excruciatingly polite, but I felt all the time that looking at me he was thinking: are you an enemy or not?
In essence, Halifax called me over to probe our mood and intentions. He beat about the bush for a good long while, saying that the international situation had changed beyond recognition in recent weeks, that one had to find one’s bearing anew, and that he would be extremely grateful to me and the Soviet government if we could enlighten him as to our views about the present situation and the immediate future.
After these prefatory remarks, Halifax moved on to more practical questions. He was specifically interested in four points:
(1) Does our old position, which was based on the need to fight aggression and provide assistance to victims of aggression and which he had always associated with the USSR (Halifax referred here to Stalin, Litvinov and others), remain in force or does it not?
(2) How do we imagine the future of Poland?
(3) What is our view of the present phase of Anglo-Soviet relations?
(4) What are our trade relations with Germany?
An argument arose between us on these points. For instance, as far as the first point is concerned, I referred Halifax to Comrade Molotov’s latest speeches. I myself argued within the framework of these speeches. My reply did not satisfy Halifax. He said that Comrade Molotov’s speeches do not give a clear answer to the question he is interested in. As for the third point, I reminded Halifax of our note of 17 September, which defined our relations with Britain as neutral. Halifax received my explanation with the greatest distrust and, after some


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consideration, asked me to clarify with Moscow whether there is any point in the B[ritish] G[overnment] starting trade negotiations with us such as it currently conducts with other neutral countries, or whether the new character of Soviet–German relations renders such negotiations senseless. I attempted to find out from Halifax what he meant by trade negotiations, but he avoided giving me a direct answer. Finally, as regards the fourth point, I directed Halifax to the Soviet–German trade agreement of 19 August of this year. This did not satisfy Halifax either.
On parting, Halifax asked me to communicate with Moscow and provide him with more exhaustive information on the issues that interested him.
My general impression: the British government is very anxious about our relations with Germany and wishes to glean how far they have advanced. At the same time, it is plainly considering the resumption of contact with us, but hesitates to make a corresponding démarche, not knowing how we would receive it.
***
We visited the Webbs. The old couple is alarmed and upset. They are of the view that this will be a war in earnest because the ruling elite understands perfectly well that in essence the question is now ‘to be or not to be’ for the capitalist system. It also understands that it has succeeded in creating a united national front in the country, crushing the Labourites and even interesting the USA in the ongoing struggle. Such a combination may never be repeated. That is why the ruling clique will be for a ‘three-year war’.
[Grim and defiant, Maisky paid a short visit to the Webbs a few hours before meeting Halifax. He felt that ‘power politics, pure and simple’ were now at work all over the world, ‘all idealism has vanished’. Maisky, who had been excluded from the negotiations leading to the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, was in no position to establish whether pragmatism or ideology was behind the Kremlin’s policies. Halifax found him to be ‘ill-informed’, ‘very embarrassed’ and ‘unable to answer any questions about the future’. Laurence Collier, head of the northern department of the Foreign Office, believed that he was ‘not in M. Stalin’s confidence’. Emerging from the meeting, Maisky begged Molotov to ‘urgently’ send him instructions.
Webb, diary, 24 Sep. 1939, p. 6739; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 219; Pimlott, Political Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 305, 25 Sep.; TNA FO 371 23682 N5426/92/38, 19 Oct. 1939; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 627.
In Moscow, though, Dimitrov, president of the Comintern, was discouraged by both Stalin and Zhdanov from entertaining any fancy revolutionary illusions. ‘In the First Imperialist War,’ he was told, ‘the Bolsheviks overestimated the situation. We all rushed ahead and made mistakes! This can be explained, but not excused, by the conditions prevailing then. Today we must not repeat the position held by the Bolsheviks then.’
Dimitrov’s diary, Bulgarian Central National Archives (TsDA MVR).
Stalin’s assignments to the various communist parties shortly after the outbreak of war stated a priori that Russia was ‘content being confined to its own small Lebensraum’.
P. Anderson and A.O. Chubaryan (eds), Komintern i vtoraya mirovaya voina (Moscow, 1994), I, pp. 122–4.
]


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27 September
Today I conveyed to Halifax the following answers given by the Soviet government to the questions raised by Halifax during our conversation of 23 September:
(1) The fundamental principles of Soviet foreign policy remain unalterable. The Soviet–German relations are being governed by (a) the Soviet–German Non-Aggression Pact of 23 August 1939 and (b) the Soviet–German communiqués of 18 and 22 September in connection with the Polish affairs (no contradiction between the USSR and Germany, demarcation line).
(2) The present demarcation line in Poland cannot be considered as the final state frontier between the USSR and Germany. The future of Poland, however, is dependent on so many factors and contradictory forces that it is impossible at present to foresee the final sequel of all that interplay.
(3) The USSR would be prepared to start trade talks if Great Britain really desires such talks, as the USSR takes a neutral attitude with regard to the war in the west now and contemplates maintaining this neutral attitude in the future, but with one important reservation: the USSR contemplates remaining neutral in the future if Great Britain herself by her attitude and behaviour towards the USSR does not compel the Soviet government to interfere in this war.
Halifax was not fully satisfied. He asked whether we intended to form a buffer Polish state, but I was unable to satisfy his curiosity on this score. In addition, he was obviously bewildered by the statement that the USSR would remain neutral only so long as England did not force her to intervene in the war, and asked me anxiously: ‘Have we done anything to you?’
I replied that except for various complications in matters of trade (the delay in issuing licences for the goods we had bought, for the orders carried out for us, etc.) we held nothing against England for the moment, but who could vouch for the future? War is war, and in war anything can happen.
With regard to the question of the trade complications, Halifax said that these difficulties would be settled along with other matters during the proposed trade negotiations.
Halifax asked in some detail about the current situation in the Polish areas occupied by the Soviet army. Using the information which I receive every day on Moscow radio, I told him about the temporary administrations being set up in cities and towns, the peasant committees, the opening of schools, factories and shops, etc. Halifax asked how the local population was greeting the Red Army. I replied: ‘That depends. Landlords and factory owners are hardly enthusiastic, but peasants, workers and Jews are highly sympathetic.’
I related some facts to illustrate my point.


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‘So what do you do with the landlords?’ asked Halifax.
‘Nothing. They have nearly all fled.’
‘And what if any of them had remained?’
‘That would depend on who that specific landlord was. If he had been responsible for any serious sins in the past, he would have been arrested and put on trial. If he was a good person who hadn’t sullied his name in any way in the past, he would have been left alone. I must tell you, though, that there are few decent people to be found among the Polish landlords, if any. The Polish landlord is one of the worst representatives of his class in Europe.’
At Halifax’s request, I gave a brief description of Polish landownership and the poverty and exploitation of the Polish, Ukrainian and Belorussian peasantry.
‘And what do you do with the landlords’ land?’
‘It is confiscated without exception and distributed among the peasants.’
Halifax shook his hand and uttered gloomily: ‘A grim tale.’
His landlord’s heart couldn’t bear it.
I noticed one curious detail. Judging by the nature of the questions he posed to me, it was clear that Halifax wanted to sound me out as to whether we considered the fate of the part of Poland we had occupied to have been definitively resolved, or whether we allowed for the possibility of it changing in the future. When I told him about the distribution of the landlords’ land, Halifax sighed heavily and no more questions followed. The answer to the question that concerned him was as plain as daylight.
At the end, Halifax touched upon the first point.
‘Still,’ he remarked, ‘I just can’t reconcile the events of recent weeks with the foreign-policy principles proclaimed by Mr Stalin at your last party congress.’
I looked at Halifax with half a smile and replied: ‘There’s this folk tale we have. A peasant fell ill and took to his bed. While he lay there helpless, one of his neighbours took his horse, another stole his cow, and a third grabbed his plough. When the peasant recovered and went back to work, he saw that he had been robbed. He went to the house of the first neighbour, punched him in the face and took his horse back. Then he came to the second and third neighbours, and got his cow and plough back in the same way. Can the peasant’s actions be qualified as “an act of aggression”? No, they can’t. He simply retrieved that which his neighbours had illegally appropriated when he was weak.’
‘So you think that this Russian tale has relevance to recent events?’ Halifax asked.
‘Undoubtedly,’ I replied, ‘with the sole difference that in this case the USSR didn’t punch anybody in the face. We did not start a war in Poland to return the regions taken away from us in 1920. But when the Polish state collapsed and the Polish government fled abroad, when Poland became a ‘no man’s land’


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under the threat of German occupation of its entire territory, then the USSR intervened and said: that which was illegally taken away from us 20 years ago must now be returned. What objections can there be to our way of acting? None. That is why I dare to assert that there is no contradiction between our principles and our actions in the area of foreign policy.’
Halifax did not reply. I doubt, though, that he entirely agreed with me.
28 September
In the Daily Sketch of 25 September, I came across Lady Oxford’s
Lady Helen Kelsall Asquith, widow of Lord Asquith.
sad reflections.
[There follows a cutting entitled ‘World I Loved Has Gone’.]
Lady Oxford expressed the thoughts and feelings (especially the feelings) that are plaguing the souls of the ‘upper ten thousand’ more honestly than any other representative of her class. They are gripped by a vague, spontaneous terror of the future. Every day they see thousands of small and big examples to convince them that the machinery of capitalist society has entered a state of deep decay. They sense the icy breath of Nemesis. They see a fearsome hand writing on the wall of their cosy, pleasant world: ‘Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin’.
A Hebrew inscription in Aramaic from the Book of Daniel describing Belshazzar’s feast. When Belshazzar orders drinks to be served in cups seized from the destroyed Jerusalem temple, a hand appears and writes on the wall: ‘God has numbered the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end.’
They feel the soil giving way beneath them as they fall into the abyss of a new, unknown and terrible world. The widow of the former prime minister has accurately grasped this present state of ‘society’, but she understands neither the causes of the phenomenon nor the prospects for capitalism. She will probably understand them soon.
29 September
Another day of excitement and sensations. Journalists have been calling all day on the telephone.
Communications about the outcome of Ribbentrop’s visit to Moscow have come in. A friendship and boundary treaty, an exchange of letters concerning the strengthening of trade relations, and a joint declaration about peace in Western Europe. In addition, a Soviet–Estonian pact of mutual assistance.
Ribbentrop reached Moscow on 27 September. It was then that the final secret protocols concerning the division of spheres of influence were concluded in seven separate documents, discovered in the archives of Schulenburg by I. Fleischhauer only in 1990.
The British are most concerned about the peace declaration. Glasgow, Gordon-Lennox, Cummings and others pose one and the same question: what is the meaning of the last paragraph of the declaration stipulating ‘consultations’ on the measures to be taken if Britain and France refuse to cease hostilities.


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Does it mean that in this case the USSR will provide military aid to Germany against Western powers?
Glasgow was highly agitated when he came to see me and came straight out with it: ‘So is it war?’
‘War with whom?’ I inquired.
‘With the USSR!’ cried Glasgow.
I laughed out loud and began to ridicule him. He gradually returned to a more normal state. On parting, I recommended that he and Garvin not hasten with their conclusions and await new developments.
Cummings was less bellicose. He merely told me about the mood in the City, the extreme irritation aroused in political circles by the Soviet–German agreements (Labour is especially furious), and a new campaign to change the government.
Gordon-Lennox understands the situation better than anyone. His reasoning is that of a cynical imperialist, and he even told me directly: ‘The USSR is playing its cards splendidly.’
I put him right on a number of points, while confirming that Moscow knows how to use a favourable situation in the interests of its general policy of peace.
Yes, there’s no doubting that the English are highly irritated. Serves them right. They should have thought about that earlier. Looks like there are difficult days ahead of us. But it’s not the first time. We’ll stick it out!
[The narrative of the events leading up to the pact, assiduously composed by Maisky and adopted almost verbatim by Stalin, maintained that the Soviet Union was left with no choice but to sign an agreement with Hitler: Russia was in desperate need of a breathing space to prepare for the supposedly inevitable war with Germany.
It comes as a startling revelation, however, that – contrary to the accepted wisdom – Stalin believed he could successfully avoid war altogether. The German–Soviet collaboration was not, therefore, transient and precarious, but appeared to have long-lasting prospects. Stalin was bent on exploiting the new opportunities to redress the grievances which, he felt, had been inflicted on Russia not only at the Versailles peace conference, but also during the nineteenth century – specifically by the humiliating Paris Peace Treaty of 1856 (following the Crimean War) and at the Congress of Berlin (following the Russo-Turkish wars of 1877–78). His gaze, like that of the tsars, was fixed on the Balkans, the littoral of the Black Sea and the Turkish Straits.
Rather than being a manifestation of defeatism, motivated by ideological expectations of the outbreak of revolution, the ‘peace campaign’ launched by the Comintern on the outbreak of war served more mundane Soviet interests. It was to be instrumental in efforts to bring the war to a rapid conclusion. That was to be followed by a peace conference, probably in 1941–42. The main thrust of Stalin’s policies in 1939–41, therefore, was to gather together the best cards he could, ahead of the anticipated peace conference. He expected the conference, which would be attended by a debilitated British Empire, to topple the Versailles Agreement, acknowledge the


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new Soviet security arrangements in Central and Northern Europe, and extend them to the south.
Argued in detail in G. Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion: Stalin and the German invasion of Russia (New Haven, 1999).
After a short period of being left in the lurch, Maisky grasped the essence of the new policy, and this would give him a fresh lease of life. The line he consistently pursued, as Vansittart alerted Halifax, was that ‘it is time to make peace’, as the common foe, Germany, ‘has been defeated, thanks to the far-sighted policy of Stalin. If the Western Powers are as resolute in dealing with Hitler as Stalin has been, then Hitler is finished. There is no way out left for Hitler – neither in the East, nor in the West, nor in the Balkans.’ It was therefore ‘useless to shed more blood, seeing that Hitler is vanquished. Poland was the price that had to be paid to achieve this victory’.
TNA FO 371 23701 N5717/5717/18, 25 Oct. 1939.
He hastened to enlist Lloyd George, whose secretary was horrified to find the Russian ambassador ‘absolutely defeatist’ seeking ‘peace NOW’, with a brief along these lines for Lloyd George’s speech in parliament. Maisky urged Lloyd George to stress that the Soviet Union’s commitment to Germany was limited, and that the trade agreement was not ‘because of the blue eyes of Hitler’ but because, as a neutral, Russia could trade with both sides. He urged Lloyd George to think twice whether it was in Britain’s interest to commit an even ‘greater blunder’ than the Polish guarantees ‘and plunge into a three years’ war’. He advocated the convening of a peace conference with Soviet participation, which was bound to culminate in a settlement ‘much more durable and stable than Munich’. Speaking in parliament later that day, Lloyd George did indeed champion the peace front, urging the government to treat Russia ‘purely as neutrals … we do not want to multiply our enemies’.
Sylvester papers, diary, A47, and memorandum on meeting Maisky, 3 Oct. 1939; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/130, 3 Oct. 1939.
Maisky, who had not briefed Moscow about his preliminary talk with Sylvester,
Albert James Sylvester, Lloyd George’s influential private secretary from 1923 until his death in March 1945.
reported that although Lloyd George’s speech went against the mainstream, it proved ‘a great sensation’.
DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 655.
In his memoirs, Maisky claims that he ‘did not believe in the durability and stability of the agreement with Germany’. He assuredly did not share the views of the Kremlin that Britain would respond favourably to Hitler’s peace proposals.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 35. See his cautious telegram to Molotov, DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 679, 12 Oct. 1939.
]
3 October
Today Chamberlain gave his appraisal in parliament of the German–Soviet agreements. Nothing sensational, just as I’d thought. The PM did not declare war on us. He did not even risk expressing disapproval of the Moscow treaty. He merely emphasized once again that the events of the last week had changed little in the current situation (loud approval from both sides of the House), that Britain and France were not afraid of threats (loud approval), and that Hitler was not to be trusted (thunderous approval). Britain and France would pursue the war until Hitlerism had been crushed. Nevertheless, they were prepared to consider any proposals of peace.
Attlee, who had resumed his duties as the leader of the opposition, supported the prime minister, as did Sinclair. They said not a word about the


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USSR. Sinclair insisted once again on the proposal he made last week: to hold a closed session of parliament.
Lloyd George spoke next. His speech, as ever, was a model of oratorical mastery. He spoke very cautiously, for the subject was a very hazardous one, and it was as if he was constantly probing the atmosphere in the chamber with invisible hands. Lloyd George’s feel for parliament is astonishing. It derives from talent and fifty years’ experience. The chamber listened to him tensely, with bated breath, even though he was clearly going against the stream. Only the occasional weak hissing could be heard from the Labour benches, and even these sounds merely accentuated the dense hush which had filled the House.
Lloyd George said that the anticipated peace proposals should be carefully studied and discussed by parliament before the British government responded. Then he said that Hitler was of course not to be trusted, but that if the great neutral powers – the USSR, Italy and the USA – could be involved in resolving the question of peace, a different situation would emerge. The terrible bloodshed that threatened Europe might possibly be avoided. In conclusion, Lloyd George, like Sinclair, demanded a closed session of parliament.
Lloyd George’s speech lifted the mood of the House. A significant number of Conservatives obviously sympathized with him, but did not dare to support him openly. The Labourites and Liberals were just as obviously opposed to the speaker. But everybody felt that something important, something big, had happened. The prime minister took the floor once again right after Lloyd George. He ruled out a closed session of parliament (Chamberlain fears that MPs might subject the Cabinet to too much criticism at a closed session and that he would have to resign), but promised not to be too hasty in replying to peace proposals, and even half-promised to give the Houses the chance to have their say.
Duff Cooper and Grenfell attacked Lloyd George sharply and accused him of taking a capitulatory stance. Grenfell also took the opportunity to give the USSR a dressing down, half-turning in my direction. And this man calls himself a socialist!
Eventually I tired of all this dawdling and went to see Lloyd George. He received me in his room in parliament. We drank tea and spoke about the current situation.
‘Winston is awfully angry with me,’ the old man said with a chuckle. ‘Did you see how he was behaving while I was speaking?’
I had seen Churchill turn various shades of red and white during Lloyd George’s speech, shake his head in agitation, and generally express his disagreement with the speaker through gestures and glances.


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‘Winston is insanely determined to fight to the end! He is enraged and thinks of nothing else but how to throttle Germans… But that doesn’t bother me. I always say what I think. During the Boer War I was against the war…’
‘And almost got killed for it in Birmingham,’ I finished.
‘Yes, yes, they very nearly got me,’ Lloyd George remembered with another chuckle.
Then he summed things up: ‘One must have the courage of one’s convictions!’
Lloyd George holds that it would be better for Britain to keep out of the war, but doubts that this will be possible. Hitler enrages the English bulldog which, once enraged, becomes dreadfully obstinate.
4 October
Harold Nicolson, who came over for lunch, told me that he was writing a small book on the theme: why is England waging war?
I asked him how he answers this question. Nicolson expressed his point of view concisely, stressing in particular that Europe must at last be freed of the constant fear of aggression and that all its nations should be given the chance to develop peacefully and fruitfully.
‘And are you sure,’ I asked, ‘that the current war will lead to this outcome. Are you sure it won’t end in a new Versailles – doubled or even tripled?’
‘That’s just it,’ Nicolson admitted frankly. ‘I am not sure. I am greatly troubled. But every effort should be made to prevent a new Versailles.’
He paused, then added: ‘I fear victory most of all. Victory will end in Versailles. A stalemate would be best of all. Then there would be a chance for a good peace.’
I objected that war can’t be measured out in doses like medicine, and that only socialism can provide a serious guarantee for a just peace, at least in the major European countries. Nicolson brightened up and exclaimed: ‘I often think exactly the same thing. I have no objections to a socialist Europe.’
6 October
Churchill’s secretary called and asked me to come to see him at the Admiralty at 10 p.m.
A meeting which was clearly initiated and motivated by Maisky (Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 32), probably as a result of Churchill’s famous radio broadcast on 1 October, in which he described Russia as ‘a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma’, but then provided the key of ‘Russian national interests’ which could not allow Russia to see Germany ‘plant herself upon the shores of the Black Sea … That would be contrary to the historic life-interests of Russia.’ See M. Kitchen, ‘Winston Churchill and the Soviet Union during the Second World War’, The Historical Journal, 30/2 (1987), p. 415. Censored versions of Maisky’s initiatives were only reported to Molotov in part; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 667. The new spate of activities, which again would warrant Maisky’s continued stay in England, is attested by a stream of invitations to former allies to visit the embassy, as well as the recruitment of ministers to exert pressure on Halifax. See, for example, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.848 l.2 & d.940 l.10, 7 Oct. 1939, letters to Eden and Butler. By mid-October, Maisky was ‘in excellent form; excited over the growing prestige of the USSR as the most powerful and successful world state, in the strange world diplomacy of today’ and excited by the ‘great change of attitude’ towards him, ‘far more friendliness on the part of ministers, i.e. Churchill, Eden and Elliott’; Webb, diary, 15 Oct. 1939, p. 6751.
Not exactly the ordinary hour for receiving ambassadors in England, but the present situation is far from ordinary, and the man who invited me is also far from ordinary!
It’s dark and misty tonight. The clouds are low and gloomy. It’s pitch-dark on the streets. I reached Horse [Guards] Parade, where the Admiralty is located,


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with some difficulty. We had to stop the car frequently to check our bearings. We eventually arrived. The familiar square seemed quite unfamiliar. The Admiralty building rose darkly out of the swirling fog like a fairy-tale fortress. Not a single light or human being in sight. I knocked and rang at the various doors and gates – silence. Were they all asleep in there? Or had this huge institution, which governed the movement of the British navy all over the globe, twenty-four hours a day, given up the ghost?… I was beginning to lose my patience. At last I saw a pale ray of light in the archway of the gates, and behind it there appeared a sleepy watchman. I explained my business. A few minutes later I was already sitting in the office of the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’.
Churchill greeted me with a welcoming smile. The walls of his office are covered with a collection of the most varied maps of every corner of the world, thickly overlaid with sea routes. A lamp with a broad, dark shade hangs from the ceiling, giving a very pleasant soft light. Churchill nodded to the lamp and, pouring a whisky and soda,
When Charles Eade, editor of the Sunday Dispatch, met Churchill after Maisky had left, he found him ‘wearing a very easy-fitting dinner jacket and walking about in his socks,


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having kicked off his shoes. He smoked a big cigar and had a whisky and soda on his desk. He seemed to me to be a little drunk’; Eade papers, Eade 2/1 & 2/2.
said with satisfaction: ‘The lamp was here 25 years ago, when I was naval minister for the first time. Then it was removed. Now they’ve put it up again.’
How very English!
Then Churchill led me over to a wide, folding door in the wall and opened it. In the deep niche I saw a map of Europe with old, faded small flags pinned onto it in various places.
‘It’s a map of the movements of the German navy in the last war. Every morning, on receiving the naval reconnaissance information, the flags were moved, meaning that we knew the location of each German ship at any given moment. I ordered this map 25 years ago. It’s still in good condition. Now we will need it again. We just have to bring the flags up to date.’
I looked at Churchill with a smile and said: ‘So, history repeats itself.’
‘Yes, it repeats itself, and I’d be only too happy to philosophize about the peculiar romance of my returning to this room after a quarter of a century, were it not for the devilish task at hand of destroying ships and human lives.’
We returned to the present and I asked: ‘What do you think about Hitler’s peace proposals?’
Churchill sprang to his feet and, quite abruptly, began pacing the room: ‘I’ve just looked them through and haven’t had time to exchange views with my colleagues in the Cabinet. Personally, I find them absolutely unacceptable. These are the terms of a conqueror! But we are not yet conquered! No, no, we are not yet conquered!’
Churchill once again set about pacing the room in vexation.
‘Some of my Conservative friends,’ he continued, ‘advise peace. They fear that Germany will turn Bolshevik during the war. But I’m all for war to the end. Hitler must be destroyed. Nazism must be crushed once and for all. Let


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Germany become Bolshevik. That doesn’t scare me. Better communism than Nazism.’
But all this was just an opening flourish. The main story which Churchill wanted to discuss with me so late at night was the state of Anglo-Soviet relations.
Churchill asked me how we define the present state of our relations. I repeated to him what I had told Halifax on 27 September. Churchill listened to me attentively and then spent nearly an hour relating to me the British government’s view of Anglo-Soviet relations. The essence of this view is as follows.
Anglo-Soviet relations have always been poisoned by the venom of mutual suspicion, today more than ever before. What are these suspicions? Britain suspects the USSR of having concluded a military alliance with Germany and that it will openly come out, one fine day, on Hitler’s side against the Western powers. Churchill himself does not believe this, but many (including some in government circles) do. This circumstance cannot but affect the general tone of Britain’s attitude to the USSR. On the other hand, the USSR suspects Britain of pursuing a hostile policy toward the USSR and of various machinations against it in the Baltic, Turkey, the Balkans and elsewhere. This condition cannot but affect the general tone of the Soviet attitude to Britain. Churchill understands why our suspicions are especially acute today. The Anglo-Franco-Soviet pact negotiations were conducted in a repulsive way (I know his view on this matter) and have left bad memories in Moscow’s mind. But let the dead bury the dead. The present and the future are more important than the past. And the present and the future are precisely what Churchill wants to talk about.
His starting-point is that the basic interests of Britain and the USSR do not collide anywhere. I know this to have been his view in the past, as it is in the present. It follows that there is no reason why our relations should be poor or unsatisfactory.
In fact, what is the situation right now?
As a result of the events of recent weeks, East and South-East Europe have ended up outside the war zone. Is this a good thing or a bad thing from the point of view of correctly perceived British interests? A good thing. Therefore, the interests of the two parties in this matter coincide sooner than they conflict. We should not take too much to heart the criticism and indignation with which the Soviet–German non-aggression pact and the subsequent moves of the Soviet government have been met in Britain. This was due to their unexpectedness. The initial shock, however, has now passed, and people are beginning to see things in a more accurate perspective.
The Baltic States. The Soviet Union is going to be master of the eastern part of the Baltic Sea. Is this good or bad from the point of view of British


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interests? It is good. True, some Labour–Liberal sentimentalists shed tears over the ‘Russian protectorates’ established in Estonia and Latvia, but this should not be taken seriously. In essence, the Soviet government’s latest actions in the Baltic correspond to British interests, for they diminish Hitler’s potential Lebensraum. If the Baltic countries have to lose their independence, it is better for them to be brought into the Soviet state system rather than the German one. Moreover, the inclusion of the Baltic countries in the orbit of the USSR tallies with historical and geographical tendencies and, consequently, favours stabilization and peace in Eastern Europe.
Finally, the Balkans and the Black Sea. Churchill walked up to a big map of Europe and drew a sweeping line which approximately traced the new Soviet–German border and northern Rumania and Yugoslavia. He then exclaimed: ‘Germany must not be allowed any further! It is especially important not to let Germany reach the Black Sea.’
He set about arguing, with some feeling, that if Germany were to reach the Danube estuary, it would not only seize the Balkans, but would inevitably extend itself also to Asia Minor, Iran and India. It would want to possess the Ukraine and Baku. Neither Britain nor the USSR can allow this to happen. Here, too, their interests coincide rather than clash. The Soviet government is greatly mistaken if it thinks that Britain is plotting against it in Turkey and the Balkans. Britain is interested in one thing only: not to let Germany reach the Black Sea. Hence its Balkan policy, its friendship with Turkey, and its wish to be able to send its navy through the Straits if need be. But if the Soviet Union, alone or together with Turkey, blocked Germany’s access to the Black Sea, Britain might wrap up its Balkan policy and abandon its right of passage through the Straits. Britain has enough cares in other parts of the world.
What conclusion can be drawn from the above?
The conclusion is that today, just as before, the basic interests of Great Britain and the USSR do not collide, but coincide. It means that there is a common basis for good relations between our countries. The British government treats our declaration of neutrality as a positive fact, merely wishing for it to be benevolent neutrality.
I asked whether the Cabinet shared the thoughts which Churchill had just expounded to me. After all, I could hardly forget that only very recently Churchill was fiercely opposed to the British government, and Chamberlain in particular. Churchill replied: ‘Naturally enough, the Cabinet is not responsible for every nuance of my statements, but what I told you reflects the views, by and large, of the entire government.’
Churchill asked me what could be done to improve relations between the two countries. Were there no useful steps or measures that I might recommend?


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I refrained from offering advice. Churchill himself thought that the best way of alleviating tension would be to expand trade operations. Then, as though summing up his thoughts, he noted with a sly smile: ‘Stalin is playing a big game at the moment and is doing so felicitously. He can be satisfied. But I fail to see why we should be dissatisfied.’
We parted ‘like friends’. Churchill asked me to keep in close touch and to turn to him without ceremony whenever the need arose. I’ll keep this in mind.
Returning home through dark, overcast streets, I couldn’t help wondering: why was it Churchill, and not Halifax, who had that very important talk with me?
I can see two explanations: (1) the leading role which Churchill is gaining in the Cabinet and (2) Halifax’s extreme annoyance with the USSR ever since the Soviet–German pact, rendering him an unsuitable channel for improving Anglo-Soviet relations. I know that Halifax was very reluctant to invite me to see him on 23 September. Only strong pressure from the Cabinet forced him to do so.
7 October
Elliot came for lunch. We spoke, as he put it, ‘over the café table’, that is, not like an ambassador and a minister of His Majesty’s Government, but like two ‘irresponsible students’.
In general, Elliot kept within the bounds of what I heard from Churchill yesterday. He regrets that the temperature of Anglo-Soviet relations has dropped to zero, he sees no serious basis for this, and thinks that urgent measures should be taken to improve our relations. But which?
Elliot is unclear on that score. He acknowledged that there is great confusion in government circles on the question of how to approach the USSR and find a common language with it. The British government does not wish to be rebuffed or affronted. That is why Elliot was asking my advice: what should be done?
I was very restrained on this matter with Elliot, as I had been with Churchill. He appears to have in mind a visit by some prominent Englishmen to Moscow, for he twice asked, half in jest, whether our agricultural exhibition was still open. He was also interested in the question of the possibility of an Anglo-Soviet non-aggression pact. It goes without saying that he also spoke about the expansion of trade.
I have a feeling that the ice in A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations is beginning to melt. Here is yet further proof. Dalton and Noel-Baker visited me on 5 October and stayed for two hours. We had a long and frank conversation, in which I machte keine Mördergrube aus meinem Herzen [did not conceal my thoughts]. They left me if not satisfied, then at least with a far better


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understanding of our position than they had before. At the end of our conversation they insisted that I tell them which measures are needed to improve Anglo-Soviet relations.
I replied: ‘First and foremost, do something to stop your Labourites saying and writing stupidities about the USSR.’
My interlocutors laughed, but, it would seem, took my advice to heart.
11 October
There are two breeds of Labourites: ‘idealists’ and ‘realists’. Both, of course, in quotation marks.
Yesterday I had a long conversation with the ‘idealists’, members of the Anglo-Russian Parliamentary Committee (Neil MacLean, Tom Williams, Tom Sykes and others), who have experienced considerable emotional turmoil in recent weeks and are full of doubts. Some (like Tom Sykes) have experienced still sharper feelings with regard to Soviet foreign policy. My interlocutors constantly employed such terms and concepts as ‘collective security’, ‘aggression’, ‘the League of Nations’, etc., while quite failing to notice that they are moving in some astral world that has nothing in common with the realities of our days. Proceeding from those habitual but now dead notions, they criticized and failed to understand our actions in the field of foreign policy. We argued at length, and I must say that I found the company of those ‘idealists’ tedious and dreary.
Today Herbert Morrison, a bright representative of the ‘realists’ in the Labour movement, came for lunch. He expressed his position on the war in approximately the following way: ‘Yes, of course it is an imperialist war in the sense that the fight is between Britain, which is defending its Empire, and Germany, which wishes to profit at the British Empire’s expense. I, for one, prefer the British form of imperialism to the German. I prefer our, even imperfect, form of bourgeois democracy to the perfect German fascist form. Therefore, reasoning in terms of the theory of relative evil, I think it necessary to defend the British Empire against Germany. The masses, of course, should be offered this concept in an appropriate, touched-up form.’
Frank and cynical. To tell the truth, though, I prefer ‘realists’ to ‘idealists’: things are simpler and clearer with them. Less muddling. You know exactly where you are.
12 October


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Today in parliament, Chamberlain delivered his long-awaited statement on Hitler’s ‘peace proposals’ (of 6 October). The meaning of the statement is clear: No!
‘Hitler’s proposals,’ the prime minister said, ‘are unacceptable in themselves. What’s more, we don’t believe a single word spoken by this man. If Hitler really wants peace, he must first prove it in deeds, not words. Then we can start talking in earnest. It all depends on Hitler.’
Chamberlain’s precise words were: ‘The proposals in the German Chancellor’s speech are vague and uncertain and contain no suggestion for righting the wrongs done to Czecho-Slovakia and to Poland… Even if Herr Hitler’s proposals were more closely defined and contained suggestions to right these wrongs, it would still be necessary to ask by what practical means the German Government intend to convince the world that aggression will cease and that pledges will be kept. Past experience has shown that no reliance can be placed upon the promises of the present German Government. Accordingly, acts – not words alone –must be forthcoming before we, the British people, and France, our gallant and trusted Ally, would be justified in ceasing to wage war to the utmost of our strength. Only when world confidence is restored will it be possible to find – as we would wish to do with the aid of all who show good will – solutions of those questions which disturb the world’; Hansard, HC Deb 12 October 1939, vol. 352, col. 567.
Attlee and Sinclair spoke in the same vein. Lansbury called for peace. Amery and Wedgwood dreamt of a European federation as an outcome of the war, but now called for a resolute continuation of the war. Cripps insisted on the urgent formulation of war aims such as might justify war and inspire the army. At the same time, he hinted that the matter at stake was not the redrawing of the map of Europe, but great social shifts and the rejection of imperialism. What naivety! It’s ridiculous to appeal to a tiger in the hope that it parts with its claws and fangs. The general level of debate was not high, and I went to drink tea with Dalton and Philips Price.
Morgan Philips Price, correspondent of the Manchester Guardian in Russia, 1914–18 and of Daily Herald in Berlin, 1919–23; Labour MP, 1935–50.
So, if Hitler makes no concessions in the next few days and suggests no new, more acceptable conditions of peace – directly or through neutrals (Mussolini, Roosevelt, etc.) – the war will start in earnest.
13 October
The Edens came to us for lunch. There were four of us and we conversed candidly. Eden was in a good mood. He is clearly delighted about returning to the bosom of government. His light grey suit and colourful tie gave him a cheerful, almost vernal appearance. His ‘Beatrice’, though, was all in black and unusually stern and silent.
We spoke, of course, about the burning issue of the moment – the war. Eden confessed that he was quite puzzled by our change of policy. He was in the camp with his battalion when news arrived of Ribbentrop’s trip to Moscow. An officer woke him up in his tent at 6 a.m. to inform him. Eden exclaimed ‘nonsense!’, turned onto his side, and wanted to go back to sleep. So the officer thrust a fresh paper with the news under his nose. That made Eden jump out of bed right away. He was wide awake. And although subsequent events clarified a great deal for Eden, he still hasn’t understood everything.
I explained to Eden in a few words the meaning and causes of the Soviet actions, beginning with the Soviet–German non-aggression pact. He listened to me attentively and seemed to display understanding.
Maisky repeated his now familiar apologetic narrative of the events leading up to the pact, suggesting that ‘In a world such as this where wild beasts were loose every country had to take certain precautions for its own safety’; TNA FO 371 23682 N5426/92/38.


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Then it was his turn to speak. He believes, just as he did four years ago, that British and Soviet interests do not seriously collide anywhere, on any issue or in any part of the world. What we observe today is a temporary and transient tension. It must be eased. How? Eden, like Churchill and Elliot, began sounding me out: mightn’t an authoritative delegation be sent to Moscow? A trade delegation, perhaps? Or a delegation dealing with some other affairs? Or a member of government? What if Seeds were replaced with a more suitable person? Whom would we like: a diplomat, a politician, a public figure, a writer, Bernard Shaw? Mentioning Shaw, Eden openly smiled, but in essence he was dead serious.
Since I didn’t know Moscow’s feelings on the matter, I preferred to refrain from giving advice.
Maisky, who, according to Eden, ‘talked almost the whole time’, did advise him that the Kremlin would prefer to see someone who enjoyed the British government’s confidence, and that it would ‘probably always be doubtful of this if they were dealing with a Left Wing politician while the Government of this country was Right Wing’. Seeds’ health had been failing for a while, and he was being held – most conveniently – as a scapegoat for the failure of the negotiations with the Russians. Following a Cabinet meeting on 30 September in which his judgements were questioned, Halifax met Dawson tête-à-tête for dinner on 5 October and ‘discussed with him possible Labour names to succeed Seeds’; TNA FO 371 23682 N5426/92/38; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 682. The dissonance between the versions has been spotted by Carley, who is correct in attributing it to Maisky’s need to save his policy ‘and perhaps also his head – since he had to keep the British interested in negotiations’; M.J. Carley, ‘“A situation of delicacy and danger”: Anglo-Soviet relations, August 1939–March 1940’, Contemporary European History, 8/2 (1999), pp. 184 and 191. See also Dawson papers, diary, Box 43; and Aster, ‘Sir William Seeds’, pp. 142–5.
As far as war is concerned, Eden strongly supported the official point of view. War is inevitable and must be fought to the end.
14 October
Chamberlain is definitely beginning to rise in my esteem. In the sphere of foreign policy he was and remains, of course, ‘the grave-digger of the Empire’, but he is exceptionally skilful in domestic affairs, particularly in his ability to cling onto power and to manipulate British ‘public opinion’. Current events in the country give the best possible testimony to this.
Indeed, the true nature of the war becomes clearer with each passing day. It is a purely imperialist war. One imperialist grouping, Britain and France, is defending its great wealth and world standing. Another imperialist power, Germany, is striving to snatch at least a part of Britain and France’s possessions and to strengthen its position in the world. And since this struggle is occurring during the decline of the capitalist system, when enthusiasm is a less and less frequent product in the everyday life of bourgeois society, it would seem a very difficult, almost impossible task to form a united national front with which to pursue an imperialist war. Yet, somehow, Chamberlain manages to pull off this trick. For much longer? That’s a different question. But for the moment he is succeeding.
How exactly do things stand?
I’ll begin with the Conservatives. In this, the most crucial party, there is a certain group (Montagu Norman, some of the City businessmen and others) which fears a proletarian revolution in Germany and therefore wants to stop the war and conclude peace as soon as possible. For now, however, this is a small minority. The overwhelming majority supports ‘war to the end’. Why? First, because any Conservative is ready to ‘give his life’ for the Empire, which not only


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supplies him with food and drink, but ensures his position as aristocrat among the ruling classes of all other capitalist states. Secondly, because the British bourgeoisie, despite everything, still feels itself to be strong and is convinced (a little presumptuously, perhaps) that, whatever the fate of Germany, Great Britain is not yet threatened by Soviet power. Therefore, they can and must fight. They must not let slip this favourable moment. And the moment, from the point of view of the British ruling class, really is favourable. Germany is weaker than it was in 1914, it is isolated, and it is exhausted physically and economically. England, meanwhile, has managed on this occasion to mobilize the Empire for war (a feat which many had doubted). The events in South Africa were especially indicative. She also succeeded in creating a united national front for the war inside the country. These things don’t happen every day. Who knows whether they can be repeated some other time – in 6, 12, 18 months – should the necessity arise? Hence the conclusion: seize the moment, don’t let it slip! Chamberlain isn’t letting it slip. To buy off the internal opposition in the Tory Party, he brought Churchill and Eden into the government, who, for all the PM’s flirting, are playing the parts not of bosses, but hostages.
Next, Labour. A cursory glance at His Majesty’s opposition is enough to understand why the British bourgeoisie is not yet afraid of a proletarian revolution in its country. There is a group within Labour as well – quite motley in composition (with, on the one hand, advocates of non-resistance like Lansbury, and, on the other, left socialists like Cripps, Pritt and Ellen Wilkinson) – which opposes the war, but it is small (15 out of 150 at the last meeting of the parliamentary faction) and uncoordinated. The attitude of most Labourites is extremely bellicose, more so even than that of the Tories. This is understandable: the stewards are always more royalist than the king. Their mood can be ascribed to two main factors: (1) the ‘imperial’ motive also holds sway over the souls of Labour, although this is often bashfully veiled (as in the case of Morrison); and (2) Chamberlain bought off ‘His Majesty’s opposition’ by declaring the fundamental war aim to be the struggle ‘against Hitlerism’ and for ‘freedom and democracy’. The prime minister hypocritically dons the mask of an ‘anti-fascist’, while the swindlers and simpletons among the Labourites (both exist) fall into raptures and are ready to shed the blood of the masses in this imperialist dogfight.
As a result, even the old opposition, feeble and spineless as it was, has been liquidated. Labour no longer risks attacking the government in parliament. All they dare do is ask dutiful questions and offer deferential advice. Greenwood, a ‘persona grata’ at 10, Downing Street, is especially servile, and the PM sends him personal letters (handwritten, not typed) beginning ‘Dear Arthur’. The Tory press puffs him up at every opportunity, lavishing compliments on this ‘true statesman’. Greenwood takes it all seriously and sees before him a


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career as prime minister of the National Government which is bound to be formed sooner or later in the course of the war. The situation in the trades unions is no better: under the leadership of Citrine, the governing bodies dance attendance on the government and frustrate the local union’s attempts to resist the widespread worsening of labour conditions, which employers excuse on the grounds of ‘the necessities of war’. There’s no use even discussing the Daily Herald, which has broken all records of vileness, especially when it comes to the USSR. The ruling classes of England know exactly how to subordinate the apparatus of the ‘workers’ movement’ to its interests and thereby take the masses with them. Chamberlain has carried off a clever trick that is especially noteworthy: he has kept the Labourites in his pocket, while not including them in his government. They are far more valuable to him in opposition. In this role they can be more effective in pulling the wool over the eyes of the workers.
The Liberals. Old Lloyd George, despite his 76 years, is a real nuisance to the government. He stands for peace, demanding a peace conference now, not after the war. But L-G is in the minority. The majority of the Liberals, headed by Sinclair, support the government and, above all, the war. But to do them justice, they are more independent than Labour.
So the existence of a united national front is a fact. How strong it is and how long it will survive is difficult to predict. But for the moment it exists and it is led by Chamberlain. This front resolutely advocates ‘war to the end’. In such circumstances, one may permit oneself the luxury of fighting for the Empire.
In conclusion, I should note one further characteristic feature. So great is the spiritual influence of the ruling clique here that it has also affected the British Communist Party to a significant extent. Initially, the Communist Party fought ‘on two fronts’: against German fascism and against the Chamberlain government for its inability to wage an effective struggle against the former. Only in early October did the Communist Party take the right stand: it recognized the war as imperialist and began agitating for peace. This change, however, was not without losses: Pollitt and Campbell
John Ross Campbell, founding member of the British Communist Party and member of the Executive Committee of the Communist Party, 1923–64, and of Communist International, 1925–35.
resigned from the Politburo.
I recall 1914. Then it was the Independent Labour Party, a strong and influential organization at the time, which opposed the war, albeit on pacifist grounds. Major ‘national figures’, such as MacDonald, Snowden,
Philip Snowden (1st Viscount Snowden), prominent Independent Labour Party leader.
Robert Smillie
Robert Smillie, president of the Scottish Miners’ Federation, 1894–1918, and of the Miners’ Federation of Great Britain, 1912–21; Labour MP for Morpeth, 1923–29.
and others, were against the war.
The situation today is different. Setting aside the Communist Party (in which disagreements also exist on the issue of war), there are neither influential


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organizations nor major ‘national figures’ leading opposition to the war in the rest of the workers’ movement. Quite the reverse: Transport House and Parliamentary Labour are passionately belligerent. So far, at any rate. We’ll see how things develop.
Indeed, 1939 is not 1914. It is easier for Chamberlain to conduct a war than it was for Asquith.
Herbert Henry Asquith, prime minister of Great Britain 1908–1916, leader of the Liberal Party.
At the same time, however, it will be far harder for capitalism to survive this current war. I even think that it will fail to do so, at least in Europe.
16 October
Halifax summoned me today and said that the British government would like to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. It is ready to discuss all possible measures with this end in view, but thinks it best to begin with trade (truly: a nation of shopkeepers!). On 27 September, in response to his enquiry, I had informed Halifax that the Soviet government did not object to the opening of trade negotiations.
According to Halifax, it was actually Maisky who initiated the idea of a trade delegation to Moscow; however, in his report home, Maisky (as was his wont) attributed it to Halifax. In fact, Maisky, who had become aware of Cripps’s access to Halifax, had raised the idea of such a delegation with him; G. Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission to Moscow, 1940–42 (Oxford, 1984), pp. 12–13.
All well and good. Halifax conferred with Stanley and they both arrived at the conclusion that it would be better to talk with me in London first. Should these talks reveal a common platform, then further steps could be taken. Which steps exactly Halifax preferred not to divulge, but I gleaned from some of his hints and remarks that he had in mind a visit to Moscow by a serious British delegation.
I answered that I was, of course, always at his service and that I would communicate his proposal to Moscow.
Halifax then turned to Turkey. The British government fully understands that Turkey should have friendly relations with the USSR, but maintains that the interests of Britain and the USSR do not conflict in that corner of the globe and that Turkey’s friendship with the USSR should not therefore hinder Turkey’s friendship with Britain. Patently alluding to difficulties in the Soviet–Turkish talks, Halifax added that he would be only too glad to contribute to their successful conclusion.
Sounds a bit suspicious! Time will tell.
Halifax was especially interested in the state of affairs in the Baltic and asked me in detail about our pacts with the Baltic countries, the bases we have acquired, and the motives of our ‘expansion’ in that region. He mentioned Finland several times, and it was clear that he was greatly concerned about the Soviet–Finnish negotiations, without, however, having decided on a direct démarche on this matter. Eventually, he said by way of a summary: ‘Well,


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perhaps you are right to say that your actions in the Baltics stabilize relations and serve the cause of peace in Eastern Europe.’
Halifax asked for my opinion of the prime minister’s speech on 12 October. I made do with empty phrases, then asked: ‘What would be the response of the British government if Hitler were to make some new proposals?’
Halifax replied: ‘Any new proposal by Hitler would be considered and discussed on its merits.’
***
Went to see the Webbs yesterday. The old man has made an excellent recovery and looks fine. Better still, he has started speaking quite decently. He said to me proudly: ‘Now I can walk for an hour and read a lot. But I can’t think and write.’
Can’t think and write! How hard it must be for a man who has spent his entire life thinking and writing in the most intensive way!
Bearing in mind, however, that Sidney Webb has turned 81, there can be little cause for complaint about his current condition. Especially since his memory never fails him even now.
Beatrice Webb spoke a great deal about the war. Her forecasts are gloomy. The war will continue. She sees no basis for a peace conference at the present time. This renders immense sacrifices and losses inevitable. There will probably be a revolution in Germany, followed by a civil war. In all likelihood, the USSR will support the revolution, at least by supplying arms, ammunition and so on. Britain, France and the USA will support counter-revolution by the same means. A covert war may occur on German soil between the USSR on the one side and the bourgeois democratic powers on the other. Covert war may easily grow into open conflict. It is difficult to predict how this will all end.
I argued at length with my host and reproached her for her excessive pessimism…
How much snobbery there is even in the best English people! In conversation with the Webbs, I mentioned what Churchill said to me the other day: ‘Better communism than Nazism!’ Beatrice shrugged her shoulders and noted that such a statement was not typical of the British ruling elite, and I would tend to agree. But then, for some reason, she found it necessary to add: ‘Churchill is not a true Englishman, you know. He has negro blood. You can tell even from his appearance.’
Then Beatrice Webb told me a long story about Churchill’s mother coming from the South of the USA and there being some negro blood in her family. Her sister looked just like a ‘negroid’.


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Then I happened to mention the famous African explorer Henry Stanley,
Henry Morton Stanley, commanded the search expedition for the missionary David Livingstone, 1871–72, and discovered the source of the Congo River.
who lived in the second half of the last century. Beatrice Webb suddenly became agitated: it transpired that she had known him in her youth. She described Stanley as a rather unpleasant man – and I am quite prepared to believe her – but one thing shocked me. Relating the elderly Stanley’s marriage to a beautiful young girl, who was a friend of hers, Beatrice said with a certain distaste: ‘At the time everyone was astonished by this match. She came from a very good family, an educated, considerate and beautiful girl, while he was a real upstart, a coarse, uncouth fellow.’
Beatrice appealed to her husband, whose expression and gestures indicated full assent.
The crux of the matter is that Stanley was the son of a small farmer, studied in a school for the poor, served as a ship’s boy, experienced the hard life of a worker and clerk in America, and only much later broke through as a journalist. Stanley was a true plebeian, and that matters, even to the Webbs.
17 October
I had a telling conversation today with Butler (parliamentary undersecretary for foreign affairs). We lunched tête-à-tête and he spoke very candidly.
First and foremost I was interested in the prospects of Hitler’s ‘peace offensive’. Butler replied: ‘None for the moment. Not because we are against peace – on the contrary, we very much wish to avoid war, and that is why we need a solid and lasting peace and assurance about this peace. We need the assurance that if we conclude peace today, it will not be broken in six months’ time. We are ready to pay a high price for a solid and lasting peace of 20–25 years. We would not even refuse Germany substantial colonial concessions. We have a large Empire and we do not need every part of it. Something could be found for the Germans. Not Tanganyika, of course, which could easily be turned into a naval and air base on the Indian Ocean, but perhaps Togo, Cameroon, etc. But we must be guaranteed that if we make concessions now and conclude an agreement, peace and the status quo will be ensured for at least a whole generation. Otherwise it makes no sense.’
Molotov quizzed Maisky about whether he thought Butler had been hinting at a possible Soviet mediation ‘with a view to concluding peace with Germany on particular terms’. Maisky had not gained any such impression, but thought Butler did subscribe to the idea; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, docs. 695, 700 & 704. Ironically, Butler, who had been criticized by the Russians for his enthusiastic support of appeasement, would now become the target of Maisky’s courtship in the Soviet attempts to create a ‘peace offensive’. See, for instance, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.848 l.3, 20 Nov. 1939, letter to Butler.
‘What kind of guarantees do you want?’ I asked.
Butler replied: ‘Either Germany must have a different government, which we can take at its word, or the peace treaty and its observance must be guaranteed


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by all the great powers, including the USA and the USSR. The USSR was not admitted to the Munich settlements, and experience shows that such a treaty has no value. Any future decision has to be taken with the participation of the Soviet Union. Since I see no possibility at the present moment of a treaty being concluded that would provide for a solid, lasting peace, we have no way out but war, counting on the superiority of our resources over those of Germany. That is why Hitler’s “peace offensive” is to be considered a failure. But that does not of course preclude another “peace offensive” in the future, one which may have much better chance of success. “Peace offensives” will probably arise more than once in the course of the war. One or other will meet with success.’
‘But which?’ I intervened.
Butler just shrugged his shoulders.
Then the conversation moved on to Anglo-Soviet relations. During the whole period of his employment in the Foreign Office (since Eden’s retirement) Butler has upheld the view that no contradictions exist between Britain and the USSR and that rapprochement between them is therefore possible and desirable. Butler was highly critical of the way in which Anglo-Soviet talks on a tripartite pact were conducted. Today, without concealing his regret about the failure of those talks, Butler assured me, like many before him, that the British government wants very much to improve Anglo-Soviet relations, but does not know where to begin. Politics? Trade? Dispatching a member of the Cabinet to Moscow? But who exactly? Could I not make a suggestion? Or perhaps a new ambassador should be appointed to replace Seeds? In short, he covered almost exactly the same ground with me as had Eden, Elliot and Churchill. Butler dropped obvious hints that he would not be at all averse to visiting the USSR himself. As always, I was very circumspect and refrained from giving advice.
As if to prove the sincerity of the British government’s desire to improve relations with the USSR, Butler touched upon two questions:
(1) Poland. The British government does not contemplate the restoration of Poland within its former borders. All it aspires to is an ethnographic Poland (resembling the ‘Duchy of Warsaw’ of Napoleonic times) guaranteed by the USSR, Germany, Britain and France. Nobody in Britain is thinking of returning Western Ukraine and [Western] Belorussia to Poland. Zaleski,
Count August Zaleski, Polish foreign minister, 1926–32, and foreign minister in the Polish government in exile, 1939–41.
who recently visited London, also made no claim on the territories occupied by the Soviet Union, but – oh, these incorrigible Polish gentlemen! – he did demand East


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Prussia on strategic grounds. Zaleski envisaged the expulsion of Germans from this province of Germany and its colonization by Poles.
(2) Turkey. England considers Soviet–Turkish friendship to be in its own interest and would be prepared to assist in every possible way the conclusion of an agreement between Moscow and Ankara. Butler added that Turkey was in constant contact with London during Saraçoğlu’s
Mehmet Şükrü Saraçoğlu, Turkish foreign minister, 1938–42, and prime minister, 1942–46.
stay in Moscow, and the British government sanctioned all those changes in the Anglo-Turkish pact that would follow from the Moscow talks. Thus, the British government did not object to Turkey’s non-participation in a war against the Soviet Union under any conditions. It was also prepared to accept the closing of the Straits to warships. She stood only against the division of the Balkans into Soviet and German ‘spheres of influence’. On the whole, Butler merely elaborated in greater detail what Halifax told me yesterday. He even admitted that recent weeks have shown how little Britain can do to influence events in Eastern Europe. The British government is prepared to draw from this the necessary practical conclusions.
What Butler told me is very interesting, but needs to be properly digested. Clearly, the British government is greatly concerned about the current situation and would like to set Anglo-Soviet relations straight. But what’s behind all this? We must see.
19 October
Today I saw Lloyd George for a few minutes. The old man was leaving for Wales, where he is to make a speech on peace at a big rally on the 21st. I caught him at the station. Sitting in his compartment, Lloyd George painted a picture of the present with his usual fervour.
At the moment neither Germany on the one side, nor Britain and France on the other, can make concessions capable of guaranteeing peace. Neither the United States nor the Soviet Union wishes to act as mediator. Mussolini is also silent, and, what’s more, he is not sufficiently respectable. In these circumstances, the continuation of war is inevitable. Especially now, after the sinking of the Royal Oak at Scapa Flow (‘A tidy job!’ L-G exclaimed with a mixture of envy and admiration). The British are furious. Their bulldog instincts have been aroused. Today, the mood in the country is less favourable for peace than it was last week, and it is quite possible that the rally on the 21st will be Lloyd George’s last opportunity to speak about peace in public.
The old man asked whether a peace initiative could be expected from the Soviet Union.


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I answered vaguely, for even though I had some grounds for believing that Moscow is discussing the possibility of our mediation, I had no definite information.
‘If only the USSR would act!’ L-G exclaimed. ‘That would have huge significance.’
Then the old man added with a laugh: ‘But of course, if the USSR did want to act, it would have to act not as an “ally” of Germany, but as a genuinely neutral power capable of taking an absolutely independent stand at a peace conference. Otherwise the Soviet proposal would be immediately discredited in the eyes of the British public, and the whole business would collapse.’
21 October
The new Italian ambassador Bastianini
Giuseppe Bastianini, Italian ambassador to Great Britain, 1939–40.
paid me his first visit today. A man of average height, with black hair and brown eyes, and lively, impulsive gestures. A true Italian. Not like Grandi, who, whether in appearance, behaviour or manners, did not live up to the classic image of the Italian handed down to us in books and at school.
Bastianini has just arrived from Rome. Showing particular interest, Halifax sent his car to pick him up at Dover – a sign of the times! Bastianini asked me about the mood in England, especially with regard to the war. I gave him a brief account. Then I asked him about Italy’s position, and in particular whether Mussolini was planning to act as mediator.
Bastianini denied this categorically: Mussolini deems the situation unsuitable for mediation. Feelings in Berlin and London are such that agreement between them is hardly possible. Berlin is ranting and raving against London and is openly setting itself the task of crushing Britain. Ribbentrop and others are firmly convinced that they will be able to attain this goal even if it requires a protracted war. At the same time, London continues to declare that it will not agree to any peace without a guarantee by all the great powers of the inviolability of the peace treaty, and there is hardly much chance of such a guarantee today. Why invite obvious failure in such a situation?
I enquired about Italy’s position in the present war. Bastianini said some rather interesting things. He told me, for instance, that when Ciano visited Salzburg and Berchtesgaden in August, he tried to persuade the Germans on behalf of Mussolini not to launch a war against Poland, stressing that Britain and France would undoubtedly enter the fray and a dangerous situation would be created. In Mussolini’s opinion, the Polish question could be resolved without a war. Ribbentrop poured ridicule on Ciano and told him that the


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‘democracies’ would ‘chicken out’ at the last moment and betray Poland. Hitler seconded Ribbentrop. Consequently Mussolini stated that in view of this serious divergence of views, he could take no part in the war and would remain neutral. Hitler had to accept this.
***
Yesterday my guests for lunch were the minister of supply, Burgin, Leith-Ross (now director-general of the Ministry of Economic Warfare), Ashton-Gwatkin, Hemming, Degwell and others.
Burgin assured me that the British government wished to improve relations with the Soviet Union and, in particular, to increase Anglo-Soviet trade. Leith-Ross enquired with some insistence whether we might be thinking of waging war against Britain and was very pleased to hear from me that we wanted to remain neutral, so long as Britain did not force us to change our stance by its actions. Leith-Ross, like Burgin, said that Britain did not intend to fight us; on the contrary, it intended to restore good relations by any means available. Both Burgin and Leith-Ross asserted that if Roosevelt were to take the lead in mediating, Britain and France would enter into negotiations, but so far Roosevelt had shown no desire to do this.
24 October
A strange war!
It’s as if you were on the western front. The bulletins of the French general staff contain phrases such as: ‘the night passed uneventfully’, ‘the day was marked by patrol operations’, ‘German forces about the size of a single company mounted an offensive’, etc. The bulletins of the German general staff are in the same vein.
In the skies, we also see only minor advance guard operations, with no serious consequences. The Germans announced proudly over the radio not long ago that they have shot down 37 French and 12 British planes in the course of almost an entire month. The English, in their turn, boasted some three days ago that of the 30 German machines that recently raided Scotland, 25% were destroyed! What astonishing successes!
The war at sea is a bit more serious. The British blockade is being conducted in earnest, and the Germans feel it. More than 20 submarines have been sunk by the British and the French. One hears that this represents between a quarter and a third of the German submarine fleet. This might be possible, were it not for the fact that the Germans have begun manufacturing submarines as quickly as they produce aircraft. Germany, in turn, has delivered a number of impressive blows to Britain at sea, of which the most painful was, of course, the


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loss of the Royal Oak at Scapa Flow. This was a truly superb strike on the part of Germany and a shameful failure for Britain. Still, even at sea ‘real’ war has not yet begun.
A strange war! One gains the impression that everything that is being done today is just an opening flourish: the main story is still ahead of us. Sometimes it seems to me that on the European arena, before my very eyes, two prize fighters are circling one another, sizing each other up, sniffing, spitting on their palms, and occasionally giving each other little shoves, as if to test one another’s vigilance and readiness for the fight. But the real fight has not yet started. Something is holding them back from delivering the first resolute blow; something restrains their energy, their will, and their muscles…
What?
If one listens to the local ‘sages’, there is a simple and natural explanation for everything.
The British and the French, they say, are counting on wearing their opponents down. The Allies have time on their side. Their aim, with minimum human losses to themselves, is to impose a long ‘siege’ on the enemy’s fortress by way of a blockade, pressure on the western front, air operations, and the economic and diplomatic encirclement of Germany. Let this siege last one, two, three or more years – the Allies are far richer than Germany in resources and capability, and in the long run they ought to win. That is why the Allies do not want to seize the initiative in any major, sensational operations on the western front or even in the skies. Major air initiatives might shock US ‘public opinion’, which is always taken into account here. Besides, winter is approaching. The mud and weather conditions make serious operations on the front impossible until spring. All the better. We shall save our strength for March. In the meantime, Germany will become not stronger, but weaker.
On the other hand – the same people say – Germany is slow to pursue the war in earnest, since Hitler fears war, would like to avoid it, and seeks ways and means to conclude peace. On 6 October, Hitler made his peace proposals. They were rejected by Britain and France. He refuses to accept, however, that his ‘peace offensive’ has failed. Germany has poor resources and difficulties with food supply. Within Germany, Hitler, Ribbentrop and the other adherents of the ‘Russian Entente’ line are wrestling with the Reichswehr leaders, the landlords of East Prussia, and the big industrialists, who dread ‘playing games with Bolshevism’. In the international sphere, Germany is isolated. Japan and Spain have turned their backs on Germany. Italy acts ambivalently. The USSR cares only for its own interests and is not going to make any sacrifices on behalf of Germany. Waging war means certain defeat for Germany, with all the ensuing consequences. Sure enough, Hitler is frantically searching for ways to annul the war through some sort of Anglo-French agreement. Despite


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disappointments, he still pins his hopes on the ‘rotten state of the democracies’ and continues to trust his phenomenal ‘luck’. That is why he is in no hurry to move onto the attack, all the more so as the approach of winter does indeed render large military operations difficult (although not entirely impossible).
Are these speculations correct?
Yes and no. They are correct in so far as they accurately portray the state of affairs and the alignment of forces on both sides. They are incorrect in so far as they leave out one very important motive, perhaps the crucial, most fundamental one, which paralyses the rivals’ will to fight.
This crucial, fundamental motive is a vague, elementary, deep-seated terror felt by the ruling classes on both sides of the front: terror of a proletarian revolution. Wherever I turn here I keep hearing that ‘in the final reckoning only Russia stands to gain from the war’, or that ‘when the Western capitalist countries cut one another’s throats, communism will triumph’, or else that ‘a long war will definitely lead to a revolution in Germany – and what will become of Britain, and of Europe, then?’, and so on and so forth. There is no doubt that similar conversations may be heard now among Germany’s ruling elite.
It is this fear which keeps the two ‘prize fighters’ from fully launching themselves on one another. They’re scared stiff. What will their fight lead to? The future is fraught with frightening possibilities. A terrifying spectre, the spectre of communism, haunts Europe – in a far more real and direct form than it did at the time of Marx’s Communist Manifesto. Is there no way of avoiding historical destiny, even if it means crawling on all fours?
There is no shortage of symptoms to indicate that the ruling elites on both sides of the front are trying even now to find a modus for a deal, an agreement.
Will they succeed? I doubt it. The imperialist contradictions within the dying capitalist system are so deep that constructing a bridge between them is difficult even for Chamberlain and Daladier. Barring a truly extraordinary turn of events – some sort of real political ‘miracle’ – a terrible, bestial, blind slaughter will begin in the very nearest future.
[Although Molotov kept Maisky very much at arm’s length, the ambassador continued to seek an improvement in relations through trade negotiations at his meeting with Halifax on 25 October and with Oliver Stanley, president of the Board of Trade. He also exerted indirect pressure on Halifax to replace Seeds in Moscow with an ambassador who enjoyed the confidence of the British government and yet was favourably disposed towards Russia. Aware of the gap between his position and that of Molotov, his correspondence continued to be highly censored. He nonetheless pursued his subversive line, overlooking Molotov’s instructions of 11 November to hint to Halifax that, since British policy was not defined by Churchill and Eden and remained hostile, ‘the Soviet government does not see at the present time encouraging possibilities’ for an improvement in relations.


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Carley, 1939, pp. 230–2; see also TNA FO 800/322 pp. 328–9, 20 Oct. 1939, ‘The Red Dean’ of Canterbury to Halifax.
Molotov’s reserve betrayed his belief that the British


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lay behind the Finnish intransigence in the negotiations that were under way. Vansittart – formerly an ally of Maisky’s, but now highly critical of him – alerted Halifax that Maisky ‘was going beyond his functions as a foreign ambassador’. He had been ‘entertaining several members of the Cabinet at different times (and incidentally boasting about it behind their backs), though the gambits that he plays on them are of course very different from his typical moves among the dupes’.
TNA FO 371 23701 N5717/5717/18, 25 Oct. 1939.
]
26 October
In the last few days, the government has emblazoned the entire political front with the slogan ‘not to antagonize Russia’, in order ‘not to push it into Germany’s arms’. Evidently, this has also affected the matter of trade negotiations. A whole month has passed since my talk with Halifax on 27 September without any progress (except for a purely commercial deal between the Ministry of Supply and the trade mission concerning the exchange of 88,000 timber standards for 10,000 tons of rubber and 600 tons of tin). Then yesterday, all of a sudden, things started moving at a speed quite unfamiliar to the English.
First, Halifax invited me over to say that the British government had instructed Stanley to enter into talks with me about the immediate prospects for Anglo-Soviet trade and that Stanley was hoping to see me today. I agreed to the meeting, and Halifax undertook to inform the Minister for Trade. Then Halifax asked me about the incident with the City of Flint
First American ship to be seized by the German navy on the grounds of contraband. Refused entry into a Norwegian port, it finally berthed in Murmansk.
and about our talks with Finland, expressing the hope that peaceful relations between the Soviet Union and Finland would be maintained. I could hardly illuminate Halifax about the first matter, for my own information about the incident came only from TASS and newspaper reports. As far as the second question was concerned, I did my best to reassure Halifax along the lines of Comrade Kalinin’s letter to Roosevelt on the subject. It was clear, however, that Halifax was interested not in Finland itself, but in the effect the Finnish situation could have on Anglo-Soviet relations. That’s why Halifax set about assuring me once again that the B[ritish] G[overnment] very much wished to improve or ‘at least not to worsen’ our trade relations and that the forthcoming trade negotiations would be just the first step in this direction. However, the honourable Lord’s assurances were accompanied by such an evident lack of faith in the possibility of anything being achieved that I sniggered and called him an ‘incorrigible pessimist’.
Secondly, my meeting with Stanley took place late yesterday evening. Also present was Cripps, who has been displaying great energy behind the scenes with regard to the matter of improving Anglo-Soviet relations. This even led to his recent appointment as legal adviser to the Board of Trade. At Stanley’s request, I came to his flat. We talked for about an hour.


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Stanley spoke at some length about the British government’s desire to maintain or even expand Anglo-Soviet trade and suggested that we begin talks on the plan for next year’s trade between our countries. He will present me with a provisional list of the goods Britain would like to buy from us in 1940, and we will prepare the same for the British government – this will allow us to reach agreement on the yearly balance. The trade plan involves many other issues that should also be discussed, such as prices, licences, transport, etc. Stanley thinks that the first, preparatory part of the negotiations should be held in London. If and when it becomes clear that an agreement is likely, Stanley will go to Moscow to ‘crown’ the whole business. As he can stay in Moscow for only a couple of days, it would be good to do all the drafting and preparatory work in England. I promised Stanley that I would consult with the Soviet government just as soon as he provided me with a plan for British purchases, albeit in the most provisional form, and a rough outline of what Britain could export to the USSR in 1940.
Today Stanley sent me this ‘plan’, or rather a rough draft. The British government intends to buy goods from us to the value of no less than 12 million pounds (timber and raw materials to a sum of more than 9 million, including petrol and oil to the sum of 1.5 million) and is ready to provide us, ‘for the USSR’s internal use’, with rubber, tin, lead, jute, certain types of copper, etc. Regarding machines, equipment and so on, the draft is highly cautious: the British government is prepared to discuss the matter, but does not promise anything.
I communicated all this to Moscow. We’ll be waiting for the response.
Cripps told me that the British government was very keen for Stanley to visit Moscow, but feared that his visit could end in failure, which would be a blow to the Cabinet’s prestige. Stanley is also wary of failure, for the effect it would have on his career. So the British government’s aim is for the ground to be prepared as thoroughly as possible, so as to be sure of striking lucky. In Cripps’s words, ‘Stanley does not wish to follow in Saraçoğlu’s footsteps.’
[There follows a newspaper cutting dated 27 October 1939 and entitled ‘New UK–Russia Trade Moves. Negotiations Opened for Barter Pact’.]
27 October
Yet another year has passed! I’ve been ambassador in England for seven years now, and how many events, changes and people have I seen in that time!
I’ve even lived to see the war. What a capricious turn of fate: I was here in London when the first imperialist war began and spent most of it here. Now I’m here again to see the second imperialist war in its European development. In time, a quarter of a century stands between them, but politically and


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psychologically it’s as if they are centuries apart. Like two different epochs in the history of humankind. And all this in the space of one short life!…
28 October
‘How old are you, if you may excuse such an indiscreet question?’
‘Why indiscreet? I’m 55. And you?’
‘Oh, I’m significantly older than you… I’m 57.’
‘You surprise me! What does a two-year difference mean for men of our age?’
Horace Wilson (for it was he) shrugged his shoulders and said: ‘Perhaps you are right. But that’s not the point. The point is that you belong to the same generation as I and must remember the time when only one event happened at any given moment, not a hundred, when one could live, breathe, move without haste, make plans for the future and, most important, ponder. Are you familiar with this English word?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Well, I like to ponder on life, people and events. But now I have absolutely no opportunity do so. Events are unfolding at such a frenzied, unstoppable pace that one barely has time to breathe. So what chance does one have of controlling events? You can count yourself lucky just to flow with the current and avoid the most overpowering blows coming from right and left.’
I gazed at this unprepossessing, skinny man with his calm, somewhat feline movements, a face both intelligent and sly, the man into whose hands capricious fate had placed the future of the British Empire, and found myself wondering: ‘Is this true or not? Is he speaking sincerely or playing some premeditated role?’
We sat down to table and moved on to other topics. The war, of course, immediately became the focus of our attention. I asked Wilson what he thought about the prospects for peace. Once again Wilson shrugged his shoulders and began ‘thinking aloud’, as he likes to do. He reasoned in approximately the following way: ‘In theory, the question of peace can still be raised. For war has not yet begun in earnest. Bombs are not yet falling on London and Berlin. The warring passions of the masses are still dormant; they have not yet reached boiling point. The people are still able to think calmly and to reason. In six or twelve months’ time this is likely to be far more difficult. However, when you approach the problem of peace from a practical point of view, you immediately see that it is almost impossible to resolve.’
Wilson took a sip of soda water (he firmly declined the offer of wine) and continued: ‘Where can peace come from? There is no chance of us taking the first step, especially after Ribbentrop’s speech. That speech, among other things,


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suggests that Hitler also has no intention of offering the hand of peace. The neutrals are silent and evidently have no wish to interfere. So where can peace come from?’
‘But what if one of the neutrals did interfere? Roosevelt, say, or Mussolini? How would Britain respond?’
‘Roosevelt will not interfere,’ Wilson replied. ‘We know that for certain. As for Mussolini… We feel a certain amount of distrust towards Mussolini. Even if he invited us to Milan or Turin tomorrow to meet Hitler, we would of course decline the invitation. We would first need to know why we were being invited and on what basis. And we would need to know what the chances were of reaching an agreement. Otherwise, arranging conferences is senseless. A conference requires careful preparatory work, but there are no signs whatsoever of such work being done. Add to this the fact that we would have to talk with Hitler! We don’t believe a single word from this man’s mouth!’
‘Does it mean,’ I asked, ‘that the precondition for any talks about peace is the disappearance of Hitler? And even, perhaps, of all his closest associates?’
‘Yes, we would like to deal with a different government in Germany,’ Wilson answered. ‘The disappearance of Hitler alone would be sufficient. I have, as you know, had dealings with Hitler. I looked at him for hours, observed him, weighed him up, and this is my impression: Hitler stands so much taller than his associates and dominates them all to such an extent – just like a mountain over a valley – that if he were to go, the rest would cut each other’s throats (they are already at daggers drawn) and would stop disturbing the peace in Europe. Let the “National Socialist Party” remain, if the Germans so wish, so long as its current leadership disappears. We’ll manage to come to terms with everyone else.’
When Wilson spoke of Hitler, I discerned personal hostility, almost hatred, in his tone of voice and in his eyes. Clearly, he is unable to forget how Hitler ‘let him down’ with such contempt and cruelty. I’ve heard that Chamberlain now bears the same personal malice and hatred towards Hitler.
‘But since the disappearance of Hitler and others is politically unrealistic at present, then it follows that you consider peace impossible in the next few weeks or even months. Isn’t that so?’
‘That’s probably true,’ answered Wilson. ‘Besides, I think that the Germans, the German people, must be given a “lesson” in order for them to start thinking and feeling differently. So far they have not had such a “lesson”. This is evident from the stories we hear from prisoners of war in our custody. Many of them did not even know right up to the last moment that Britain and France had declared war on Germany. We can give the Germans the “lesson” they need. I am fully confident of our eventual victory.’
Referring to Halifax’s pious image, Bernard Shaw condoned the Russians’ peace offensive. He wrote to Maisky: ‘The British Empire is the Vicar of God Almighty for the punishment without trial of all foreign sinners.’ Together with Beatrice Webb, he buoyed up Maisky, even when his close friends abandoned him following the Soviet invasion of Finland; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1687 l.71 & d.1184 l.17, 9 Nov. & 7 Dec. 1939; Passfield papers, II/4/l, 49a, Agnes Maisky to Beatrice Webb, 8 Dec. 1939.


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I objected that the Germans had already been given a ‘lesson’ at Versailles, but this failed to secure a lasting peace in Europe. Where is the guarantee that the new peace treaty with which this war, sooner or later, must end, will be better than Versailles? It is far more likely to be even worse, and several times worse at that.
The conversation then turned to the question of how the current war should end. Wilson again began thinking aloud, and his thoughts were most curious.
The future Germany which will emerge from the war should cease to be a unified, centralized Germany, but should turn into a ‘free federation’ of German states, as was the case in the past. Austria, Bavaria, Württemberg, etc. should become half-independent states within the framework of the federation. Czechoslovakia could also become a member of the German federation, with similar rights to the British dominions. Poland should be restored as an independent state on its ethnographic foundation, without Western Ukraine and Western Belorussia. The German federation might be allowed to establish a condominium with Britain and France in the former German colonies. Disarmament, or at least arms limitation, should then follow. In general, peace and order should be established in Europe, and Germany should be placed in conditions that would prevent her from violating this order.
‘We would like,’ Wilson concluded, ‘for calm to reign at last. For it to be possible to live without mobilization every six months. For these perpetual crises to come to an end. For us to be able to think again about our own affairs, our pleasures, and our holidays.’
The true philosophy of old, rich imperialism, with its surfeit of everything!
Wilson ‘complained’ that the French were taking a more radical stand than the British, refusing to differentiate between Hitler’s regime and the German nation (as the British always do) and cherishing the idea of breaking Germany up into small independent states, disarmed and helpless. These French sentiments exert an inevitable influence on the English. But they are dangerous and could have grave consequences.
I listened to Wilson’s ‘complaints’ and smiled to myself. Was his project of a ‘free German federation’ so very different from the French idea of partitioning? And won’t Wilson – at a certain historical turning point, especially in the heated atmosphere of a real war – change his mind and agree to that very partitioning in the name of solidarity with a ‘brave ally’ and the greater glory of the policy of ‘compromise’ which he so loves?
Of course he’ll agree to it. It’s obvious from the tenor of everything he told me today that in reality he does not visualize any other way of maintaining the present position of British imperialism. He will have to bless partition… provided the Soviet Union allows it.


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[Attached is a cutting from the Evening Standard of 23 December 1939, corroborating Maisky’s impressions. The leader argues that Horace Wilson was the most influential figure in the Cabinet, enjoying Chamberlain’s full support, particularly in the conduct of foreign policy. The article also points out Wilson’s connections to the City.]
30 October
Agniya and I dined at the Elliots’. White had some trouble finding their house (60, Eaton Square) because of the black-out. It was a very intimate dinner, in daytime attire. Also present, besides the hosts and us, were the husband of Mrs Elliot’s sister, the Conservative MP Dugdale
Thomas Lionel Dugdale, junior lord of the Treasury, 1937–40; deputy chief government whip, 1941–42.
(he is one of the party’s whips), and Bernays, deputy minister of transport. During dinner, we joked, laughed and told funny stories. Then, when the ‘ladies retired’, serious conversation began. About the war, of course, or, more precisely, about war and peace.
Elliot is clearly worried about the current situation and the prospects for the future. A former ‘Fabian’, he has a deeper understanding of many things than his Conservative colleagues. His view boils down to the following: ‘Of course it is true that in essence the war is being pursued to secure the position of England and France in the world, is there anything unnatural or unlawful about this? Why should Britain concede its position without a fight to Germany, which, moreover, has supplied record-beating examples of vileness, cruelty, and obscurantism in recent years? Nonetheless, if the English and the French could hold on to their fundamental positions without war, then it would be better to end it. Who needs millions of victims? Who needs terrible destruction and losses? Who needs the extreme animosity that is the inevitable consequence of a long war? Animosity which can easily lead to a new, magnified Versailles? And a new Versailles, in its turn, would mean a new war after a short period of time. All over again. So, if war can be avoided, why not do so? But can it? The British and the French cannot embark on peace negotiations or a peace conference unless certain conditions are met, primarily the restoration of Poland and Czechoslovakia. Not, of course, in their former boundaries. Is Germany ready to make such concessions? Doubtful. For Germany is not yet beaten. So is there any point talking about peace and conferences? Such conversations can only derail the “moral mobilization” of the Western democracies. This “mobilization” was far from easy and cost a great deal of effort, but now it’s in full swing. Spoil the mood of today and you might well not be able to recover it next time. Why take the risk if there are no guarantees that negotiations will yield a favourable outcome?’


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This has its own ‘imperialist’ logic. I remember what Elliot told me some three weeks ago: ‘Last time, four years of war gave us 20 years of peace and guaranteed our positions in the world. This game is worth the candle.’
Candid and cynical.
Elliot, Bernays and Dugdale all kept asking me what could be done to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. The same old questions: perhaps Seeds should be replaced? Maybe a prominent member of the government should be sent to Moscow? Whom exactly?
I refused to give any advice.
***
The English are a cunning lot!
Our note of 25 October concerning contraband flickered on the pages of the press for a single day, then everyone fell silent, as if prompted by a magic wand. Yet the note touches a raw English nerve.
The explanation is simple. First, there is once again no need ‘to antagonize Russia’. Secondly, no one knows what the practical consequences of the note will be. Maybe none at all. Maybe the ‘Bolsheviks’ just made a ‘gesture’ to please Hitler – after all, they have to find some way of paying for the real benefits they obtained from the pact with Germany. If they intend to pay with bits of paper, is that any great cause for concern? If the note grows into something more serious, we’ll have plenty of time to pick a fight about it. For the moment, we’re better off keeping our counsel. There’s no great rush.
Such are the thoughts and reasoning of the English, which can be heard at every turn.
Yes, the English are a cunning lot! But all their cunning won’t help them find a painless solution for the ‘upper ten thousand’ of the key problem of the forthcoming epoch: who – whom?
Lenin’s famous slogan kto kogo?, a rhetorical question as to who would prevail over whom. This lent itself to the suppression of dissenters and the extermination of opponents.
31 October
I arranged a lunch for Hore-Belisha. He was half an hour late (it’s said that his pretty driver was to blame) and kept the guests waiting: General Kirke,
Sir Walter Mervyn St George Kirke, general, director-general of Territorial Army, 1936–39; inspector-general of home defences, 1939; commander-in-chief of home forces, 1939–40.
William Strang, Bernays, the Bulgarian minister Momchilov
Nicola Momchilov, Bulgarian ambassador to London, 1938–41.
and others. It was an awkward situation.
At lunch, the conversation was, of course, mainly about the war. Hore-Belisha, as befits a minister of war, takes a negative view of the idea of peace.


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‘Peace with Hitler,’ he said, ‘is impossible. A different government is needed in Germany to make peace. We shall fight until we have such a government. Let it be a government of communists – I believe this may conceivably happen at the end of the first year of the war – we don’t care. It’ll be easier for us to come to an arrangement with communists than with Hitler.’
I made an attempt to elucidate what exactly Hore-Belisha intended to come to an arrangement with communists about, but he was very evasive and vague. Still, I understood from some of his allusions that the future, post-war Germany should be disarmed and built on the ‘federation’ principle. In other words, we are dealing once again with the partitioning of Germany.
Hore-Belisha spoke about the war itself with greater interest and greater energy.
‘We do not intend to launch large-scale offensive operations,’ he said. ‘Our tactics are defensive in principle. We would be only too glad for the Germans to begin a broad offensive along the Maginot Line or even across Holland and Belgium, for they would then suffer colossal losses, while British and French losses would be negligible. There are no impregnable military positions in the world. Any position can be taken, if enough lives are expended. Even the Maginot Line can be broken. But, even if the Germans were to carry through such an operation, they would be too exhausted to be able to deliver a decisive blow. The Germans understand this, and that is why I think that, at least until spring, things will be relatively quiet on the western front.’
‘In other words,’ I remarked, ‘you are saying that the Germans will also be waging a war of attrition?’
‘No, that’s not what I think,’ Hore-Belisha retorted. ‘Germany cannot risk such a war. It needs a rapid solution, or at least an attempt at one. That is why I fear some kind of mad move on the part of Hitler.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, a massive air bombardment of England, for example. Hitler may go for broke and throw all his air force against us at once.’
I inquired about the effectiveness of the air defence. [Hore-]Belisha replied that it was now in good order: 130,000 people, all over England, are involved in it. The country is saturated with anti-aircraft artillery. In London, in particular, any enemy plane would find itself under fire at any given moment from 50 to 100 anti-aircraft guns. On the whole, the British think (based on Scotland’s experience) that the enemy loses 25–30% of its machines every raid. The joint Anglo-French air force is presently equal to, or a little weaker than, the German air force, but it will be notably stronger by spring. Irrespective of American deliveries, Anglo-French production is immense (a monthly output of 1,500 machines in England) and is increasing each month.
Hore-Belisha revealed interesting information concerning the war at sea. Before the war began, the Germans had a maximum of 65 submarines


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(including 30 of the ocean-going type). The British and the French have destroyed at least 22. The Germans are able to manufacture 5–8 submarines monthly, but the main problem is the crews, which require long training and outstanding bravery. Here, the Germans find themselves in a tight spot. The British are fighting the submarines with torpedo boats, light cruisers, and special craft which are halfway between torpedo and mosquito boats. These vessels are cheap and quickly assembled. Hore-Belisha is confident that even though German submarines may inflict certain losses on Britain, they are not able to threaten the country with a serious blockade.
2 November
General Lelong,
General Albert Lelong, French military attaché in London, 1938–50.
the French military attaché, came by. He has just returned from Paris, where he conferred with Gamelin. We talked about the Anglo-French war plan. A replica of the conversation with Hore-Belisha: the very same thoughts, almost the same words. The ‘Allies’ will not launch an offensive, at least not until spring. Let the Germans advance and suffer huge losses. The ‘Allies’ prefer to save their human resources and stockpile arms and ammunition. If the Germans make a thrust via Holland and Belgium, they will gain nothing because (1) the British and the French are well prepared for such an eventuality and (2) the Germans will in addition have to cope with the Belgian and Dutch armies, which are at least a million strong. Moreover, it is not so easy to occupy Holland. The Dutch will flood some areas, making it very difficult, indeed almost impossible, for a motorized army to move.
Lelong lived in tsarist Russia, he served before the war, in 1914, in a Russian regiment stationed in Suvalki; he was in Russia during the revolution right up until 1918, and he attended manoeuvres in Kiev in 1935. He knows Russian and the old Russian army. I asked him what differences he discerned between the Red Army and the tsarist army. In his opinion, the Red Army is well equipped, far better than the old army. The rank and file are as good as before, but the Red Army soldier is more conscientious and intelligent. The Red Army NCOs are a cut above those in the tsarist army (and this is a quite crucial element in any army). The Red Army officer class is much more serious and diligent than the tsarist one, which did not exert itself much, but it lacks cultural training, particularly in the higher echelons. In Lelong’s opinion, staff officers were trained better in the old army than today. However, on the whole the Red Army is a much more powerful instrument than the tsar’s army, and is one of the best in the world today. Lelong also noted that the Red Army is more loyal to the regime and enjoys greater popularity among the people.


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An interesting comparison. I had the impression that Lelong was speaking quite sincerely.
3 November
The British have paid a high price for their Turkish policy. It turns out that the signing of the pact with Turkey has cost them 60 million pounds (a 15 million gold loan, mostly to stabilize the currency, a loan of 30 million for armaments and equipment now, and a further loan of 15 million in the future).
Why have the British paid the Turks so much?
For three reasons:
(1) The Turkish pact is a trump card for Britain against Italy, because it makes it far harder, if not impossible, for Italy to retreat from the policy of benevolent neutrality towards Britain which it adopted at the beginning of the war. The British have thus settled their cursed Mediterranean problem.
(2) The Turkish pact is also a trump card against the Soviet Union, for it opens up various political and military opportunities for Britain in the Balkans and the Black Sea area, which she can employ against us in certain situations.
(3) Finally, the Turkish pact is a trump card with respect to the whole Muslim world, whose traditional leader Turkey is still considered to be. Turkey was against Britain in the last war, which created many serious problems for the latter in the Near and Middle East. Now Turkey is with Britain, and this ensures the benevolent neutrality towards Britain, and perhaps even the direct assistance, of Egypt, Arabia, Iraq and Indian Muslims. It also serves to protect the road to India and the Suez Canal area.
Enough reasons not to begrudge several score million pounds.
7 November
We celebrated the October anniversary in a war situation.
There was a meeting, which I addressed, and a comradely lunch with toasts in the embassy, followed by dancing, music and entertainments. The organizers’ original intention was to show a film after lunch, but the ‘masses’ protested and insisted on something more cheerful and lively. After two months of war, black-outs and all manner of restrictions, the people were yearning for light, noise, movement, crowds, meetings. So the organizers yielded and cancelled the film; in any case, because of the war we hadn’t been able to bring in a new, topical film. Spirits were high, and everybody was satisfied with the celebration, which began at noon and ended at seven – black-out time.
In the morning, I listened to the radio broadcast from Red Square. There was great pride in my heart, but sadness too, because for many years now I


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have had to celebrate this immense, incomparable anniversary far from my homeland. I hope this is my last October abroad.
9 November
Relations between Rome and Berlin can’t be all that brilliant – otherwise how can one explain the behaviour of Bastianini, to whom I paid a return visit today?
First of all, he told me that Mussolini had decided to do nothing in response to Holland and Belgium’s offer to mediate on 7 November. The reason? Very simple: London and Paris demand the evacuation of Poland and Czechoslovakia as a precondition for peace talks. This is manifestly unacceptable to Germany. So there is no basis for peace. So there is no point getting involved in a hopeless initiative.
With a sarcastic smile on his face, and the occasional shrug of his shoulders, Bastianini continued: ‘If I were in Hitler’s shoes, I would declare that in principle I was prepared to restore Poland as a special political entity and withdraw German troops, but I would suggest discussing these matters at a peace conference. Britain and France would not be able to simply say “No!” to this. But Hitler holds a different view. His speech in Munich yesterday showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is still no point talking about peace.’
In an irritated, mocking voice, Bastianini concluded: ‘Well, he must be in a better position to judge!’
Notable also was the emphasis Bastianini placed on the imminent improvement of Anglo-Italian relations and on the fact that Italy was rapidly arming.
‘We can’t be certain,’ he added, ‘that we won’t have to fight.’
Against whom? It by no means followed from what Bastianini had been saying that he meant Italy’s obligations under the German–Italian treaty. On the other hand, he did not conceal the fact that Mussolini is taking a lively interest in the idea of a Balkan bloc.
A word or two about this Balkan bloc. The idea is being pushed from three directions:
(1) Rumania, Yugoslavia, Hungary, and to a lesser extent Bulgaria and Greece, are toying with the idea of erecting a Balkan bloc to defend their ‘neutrality’. They think that Germany and the USSR represent a real danger. Rumania is particularly active in this respect.
(2) Italy wants to take advantage of this ‘favourable moment’ and, making the most of Germany’s engagement in other areas, set up a Balkan bloc under its own leadership. Such a bloc would be directed, of course, against the USSR. It’s not for nothing that Italian radio has been sending out propaganda every


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night recently against ‘communism’ and threatening Italian intervention in the event of ‘Bolshevism’ emerging in the Balkans.
(3) Turkey, intoxicated by its recent diplomatic and financial ‘victories’ (the pact with Britain and France), is also not averse to a Balkan bloc being set up under its own leadership.
Behind all these plans, hopes and schemes stands Britain, which, as ever, is playing a double game. On the one hand, Britain encourages Mussolini’s ambitions in the Balkans; on the other, it hints to Turkey that it regards her as the natural leader in the Balkans. For now Britain sits on the fence. At a certain moment it will make a choice.
10 November
Cripps came to see me. He was highly agitated and upset: why has Moscow still not given its answer to Stanley’s proposals?
Cripps declared, somewhat emotionally, that the purpose of his life at the moment is the improvement of A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations. If our relations are allowed to take their own course, the results could be deplorable. Mutual suspicions, unfortunate incidents, misunderstandings and so on will poison the atmosphere for good. Horace Wilson’s intrigues in various parts of the world (Scandinavia, the Balkans and the Far East) will assume gigantic dimensions. Finland is a good example. Wilson and Co. promise ‘moral support’ to the Finns or, more precisely, they promise ‘moral support’ to the Scandinavians in the exertion of their ‘moral support’ to Finland. The Finns, as true provincials in politics, see Britain’s ‘moral support’ as a sheet anchor. Becoming stubborn and uncompromising, they miss out on the opportunity to settle contentious issues with the USSR in good neighbourly fashion. This has a boomerang effect on Anglo-Soviet relations. A gigantic effort should be made to arrest this line of development and to declare: ‘Stop!’ Eden, Stanley, Elliot, Churchill and others understand this perfectly well. Hence their desire to improve relations with the Soviet Union. Hence, by the way, the idea of trade negotiations. Cripps himself offered his services as legal adviser to the Board of Trade precisely so that he could assist the process more robustly. But Moscow is not responding! Why not?
I objected: ‘How long did it take the British government to offer us its trade proposals?’
I reminded Cripps that I presented Halifax with the framework agreement for the trade negotiations on 24 September. Stanley submitted his proposals only on 25 October.
The Soviet government is now conducting more urgent negotiations – with Germany, Finland, etc. Britain’s turn will come…


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Cripps was greatly discouraged when he left.
13 November
I lunched with Winston Churchill and Brendan Bracken at Bracken’s flat in Westminster (8, Lord North Street). From the outside, a very plain, small house; on the inside, a superbly furnished modern apartment fit for a representative of the bourgeois intelligentsia.
Churchill arrived slightly late from a meeting of the War Cabinet. He is in fine fettle: fresh, younger, full of energy, a spring in his step. He is pleased with his power, pleased with his ministry, and pleased at the opportunity to bring his strengths to bear on matters of great consequence. Another source of satisfaction, it seems to me, is the awareness and expectation of historical possibilities unveiling themselves before him…
I mentioned Moscow’s wish to improve relations with England (such was the latest information I had received). Churchill’s face lit up and he exclaimed: ‘That’s very good! The desire is the main thing. If there’s a will, ways and means will also be found.’
Whereupon, right off the bat, Churchill set about expounding his old idea that the real interests of Britain and the USSR do not collide anywhere, and that this makes a solid foundation for good relations between our countries.
I argued that at first sight this might indeed appear to be the case, but why in that case had British diplomacy been systematically working against the USSR over the last two or three months in all parts of the world where, one way or another, our interests coincide – in the Far East, the Near East, the Balkans, Scandinavia and Finland?
‘There’s nothing to be surprised about,’ answered Churchill. ‘The drastic turn in your foreign policy at the end of August came as a great shock to us. Subsequently, during the first two months of the war, your position remained unclear to us. Many thought that you had made an alliance with Germany (though I never believed it) and that we would be open enemies in the nearest future. It was only natural in such a situation that old prejudices, fears and suspicions should surface. This inevitably affected our state apparatus. Local bodies and individual officials immersed themselves in anti-Soviet machinations. But that in no way represents the policy of the government.’
I couldn’t agree with Churchill and gave him a number of examples to prove that the problem is not the excessive zeal of individual ambassadors or admirals, but the carrying out of specific instructions that emanate from London. Churchill was somewhat perturbed and said: ‘I’ll make some inquiries, and if what you say is true, I’ll try to rectify the situation.’


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Then, at Churchill’s initiative, the conversation moved on to Finland. Churchill asked me about the details of our negotiations and also about our further intentions. I complained to him once again about the conduct of British diplomats: they incite the Finns to resist, promising them Britain’s ‘moral support’, and the Finns – those true provincials in politics – imagine that this ‘moral support’ will make the walls of Soviet Jericho fall and stubbornly refuse to recognize our utterly lawful claims. As a result of London’s interference, the prospects for an agreement between Moscow and Helsinki are reduced. Why is British diplomacy doing this? I don’t know. Perhaps just to spoil things for us, as Britain is unable to offer Finland any real assistance. For as long as London keeps machinating against the USSR in Finland and other parts of the world, it’s hardly possible to think about improving relations between our countries.
‘My view on the issue you have raised is as follows,’ replied Churchill. ‘Russia has every reason to be a dominant power in the Baltic, and should be one. Better Russia than Germany. That’s in our, British, interests. I don’t see why we should put a spoke in your wheel as you build naval and air bases on the Baltic coast. I consider your claims towards Finland to be natural and normal. It’s truly ridiculous that Leningrad should find itself in the firing-line of long-range guns on the Finnish border, or that the Finnish isles should block the entrance to the Gulf of Finland. You have every right to demand that the Finns rectify the frontier on the Karelian Isthmus and give you a few isles in the Gulf of Finland. I also see no reason why you should not have a naval base at the entrance to the Gulf. The stronger your position in the Baltic, the better for you and for us, and the worse for Germany. The Finns can bargain and argue about the size of the compensation you are prepared to offer them – that’s their proper right – but they cannot refuse you “in principle” one or other base or one or other chunk of border-land.’
And then, pulling on his cigar – we had already finished lunch – Churchill added thoughtfully: ‘My sense of history compels me to approach the question of your claims in the Baltics from a different angle as well. Why did Russia lose the Baltics? Because it acted as our ally in the last war and did us a huge service, especially at the beginning of the war. Were it not for Russia, the Battle of the Marne would have ended in our defeat and the entire outcome of the war would probably have been different. That is why I think that Britain and France owe Russia in general a historical debt, whatever Russia that may be – Red or White – and we now have a moral obligation to help Russia strengthen her position on the Baltic Sea.’
‘Wonderful!’ I rejoined. ‘Then the behaviour of the British diplomats in Finland and Scandinavia is all the more disgraceful.’


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‘I’ll deal with this question, too,’ Churchill replied. ‘Finland should not impede rapprochement between Britain and the USSR, which is my chief political objective.’
Churchill hinted that he would try to arrange things in such a way that British diplomats would ‘advise’ Finland to settle its affairs with the USSR peacefully. We shall see what the practical results of this hint will be. Churchill added: ‘I would hope, however, that the USSR will not resort to force to resolve its dispute with Finland. If the USSR chose to follow such a path, as I’m sure you understand, it would make a most painful impression here in England and would render the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations impossible for a long period of time.’
I replied to Churchill in the spirit of Comrade Kalinin’s letter to Roosevelt and cited some facts relating to Finland from Comrade Molotov’s speech of 31 October. At the same time, I added that the Finnish leaders also bear a large share of responsibility for subsequent developments. Much will depend on how sensibly they act.
We turned to the war. Churchill exclaimed: ‘Your non-aggression pact with Germany triggered the war, but I bear you no grudge. I’m even glad. For a long time now I’ve felt that a war with Germany is necessary. Without your pact, we would have hesitated and drawn things out, until we procrastinated to the point when we could no longer win the war. But now we will win it, even though it will cost us dearly.’
Churchill set out his thoughts about the war. Peace is impossible in the near future. In peace time the British often look like pampered, gluttonous sybarites, but in times of war and extremity they turn into vicious bulldogs, trapping their prey in a death grip. The country now finds itself in such a mood. Germany should not be underestimated: she is a serious and dangerous enemy (although Churchill senses that the Germany of 1939 is weaker than the Germany of 1914), but she will be defeated all the same. The British Empire is powerful: it just needs time to mobilize its resources. This time will be found.
I asked Churchill how he visualized post-war Europe. Churchill replied: ‘I see it in the form of a reformed League of Nations, which must serve as a real tribunal and have at its disposal a mighty air force. Individual states – members of the League – can retain their own armies, navies and so on, in a reduced size, but not air forces.’
‘What about Germany’s position after the war?’
‘Germany? Germany’s position should be on the same basis as that of other states. Germany will become democratic. Plans to partition Germany are absurd.’


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Churchill pulled deeply at his cigar and added: ‘The future League of Nations cannot confine itself to military and political problems alone. It must take up social problems as well. It must, for example, introduce the six-hour working day in all member states, double wages, and so on. This is quite feasible. All one needs to do is apply science to production and cut profits and dividends.’
All this sounded rather fantastic – not in general, but within the framework of capitalism cloaked in the garb of the League of Nations. While listening to Churchill, however, I couldn’t rid myself of the impression that the British ruling class is keeping the card of social demagogy up its sleeve, to be played at an appropriate moment in the course of the war. I can see it now: after 6 or 12 or 18 months of war, when really hard times fall and heroic measures are needed to summon the ‘fighting spirit’ of the masses, Churchill will become prime minister and call upon England to fight not only against Germany, but also for a six-hour working day and four pounds a week for each citizen.
We shall see.
Maisky’s detailed report home avoided the important prediction that Churchill would become the next prime minister, as well as his own advocacy of improved relations, which clearly exceeded the mandate he had from Molotov; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, docs. 775 & 776.
14 November
Sun Fo came by. I met him for the first time here in the spring of 1938. At the end of May, that same year, I bumped into him quite by chance in a Moscow theatre. Today was our third meeting. He’s come to London for a few days ‘to sniff the air’ and, most importantly, to learn something about British intentions and policies in the Far East. He also wanted to speed up British supplies (in particular, of machine-gun steel) under the three-million loan, but this was a secondary task.
Sun Fo told me a lot of interesting things about China. The Japanese offensive has run out of steam. Tokyo is no longer thinking about new conquests, but about consolidating what it has captured. Within the next few weeks, Japan plans to put Wang Jingwei on the throne and sign a peace treaty with him. The Japanese hope that after this they can withdraw from China at least half of their army, which now numbers nearly a million. But Japan is miscalculating. Jiang Jieshi is building up and training a large army for an offensive. Now that the Japanese attack has petered out, the Chinese mean to begin a general, lengthy and dogged offensive, which can end only in the expulsion of the Japanese from the continent.
Arms are critical, of course. China gets them from two sources: the USA and, in particular, the USSR. We provide China with considerable assistance in arms, ammunition, instructors, etc. The credit agreement concluded this June on the basis of commodity exchange is functioning well. The road through Tianjin is in good condition. Transportation by lorry from the Turksib to


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Lanzhou takes about three weeks. The air link that is currently being established between Moscow and Chongqing will take five days. There are some problems to do with fuel, but a highly original solution has been found: fuel is delivered to fuelling stations along the Tianjin Road not by lorries, but by camels, which consume no petrol on the way, while goods are carried by truck. What a combination: Noah’s ark and aeroplanes!
Incidentally, big oil fields have been found recently in Tianjin and Gansu. Soviet engineers are already developing them in Tianjin and will soon start to do so in Gansu. Oil refineries will then be built. Then the problem of transportation via the Tianjin Road will be resolved for good.
On the whole, Sun Fo is optimistic about the future. Or is he just pretending…?
Sun Fo’s London impressions are rather vague. He met Halifax and Churchill. Halifax told him that in connection with the war in Europe, the British government is most eager to normalize its relations with Japan, but does not intend to achieve this ‘at China’s expense’. Sun Fo, however, takes a very sceptical view of the foreign secretary’s statement. Halifax asked him about the state of Chinese–Soviet relations and was pleased to hear from Sun Fo that there had been no changes in this area. Halifax told Sun Fo that the British government wanted to put right its relations with the Soviet Union.
Churchill was more definite. He said: ‘We are friends with China. China is a friend of the USSR. All three of us should be friends.’
Churchill interrogated Sun Fo at length about the USSR and spoke of the British government’s intention to improving relations with Moscow. Churchill was especially interested in the volume of Soviet economic aid to Germany, and asked whether it was true that the USSR was selling planes and submarines to Germany. Sun Fo apparently replied that the latter was hardly probable and that the quantity of food, raw materials and so on that Germany might get from the USSR was relatively small. Churchill also wished to know the meaning of the new Soviet policy in the Baltics. What is it: defensive measures or the beginning of major imperialist expansion? Sun Fo apparently replied that we are guided by defensive interests. Churchill then said that if that was the case, he would not object to Soviet actions in the Baltics and Finland, for they do not conflict with the interests of Great Britain. Sun Fo, interestingly enough, spoke with Churchill prior to my evening meeting with the latter.
Sun Fo will fly back to China in a few days.
15 November
Beaverbrook lunched with us. I hadn’t seen him since that memorable lunch in the embassy in early July. Since then he has managed to make two trips


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to America and, as ever, was full of news, primarily from overseas. His most interesting revelation was that, in Beaverbrook’s words, Roosevelt is quite definite in his support of war and the participation of the USA in the war on the side of the ‘Allies’, because he believes that ‘fascism’ must be crushed once and for all. Of course, the isolationist sentiments of the American masses hinder the realization of Roosevelt’s intentions, but he will still do everything in his power to help Britain and France win the war. Under certain conditions (if, for instance, the Germans attacked Holland and Belgium) Roosevelt could even draw the United States into the war.
Beaverbrook himself opposes the war.
‘I’m an isolationist,’ he fretted. ‘What concerns me is the fate of the British Empire! I want the Empire to remain intact, but I don’t understand why for the sake of this we must wage a three-year war to crush “Hitlerism”. To hell with that man Hitler! If the Germans want him, I happily concede them this treasure and make my bow. Poland? Czechoslovakia? What are they to do with us? Cursed be the day when Chamberlain gave our guarantees to Poland! A peace conference must be convened immediately, without any preliminary conditions. Were this to be done, I’d support the move with all the means at my disposal, even if I had to ruin my papers to do so.’
According to Beaverbrook, there are two parties in government: the ‘war party’ led by Churchill (Hore-Belisha, incidentally, belongs to this group), and the ‘peace party’ led by Chamberlain (which also includes Simon, Hoare and Halifax). The former advocates the defeat of Germany as the premise for peace; the latter is ready to conclude peace at the first opportunity because it fears a revolution in Germany with all the ensuing consequences. For the moment the two parties are acting as one, because no hope for peace has appeared on the horizon so far. But should such a hope emerge, who knows what will happen?
In Beaverbrook’s opinion, peace depends first and foremost on the USA and the USSR. He pins little hope on the USA (Roosevelt wants war!), but what about the USSR? Beaverbrook expects a great deal of us. For obvious reasons, however, I was entirely noncommittal.
I asked Beaverbrook what would happen if the war dragged on.
Beaverbrook shrugged his shoulders and replied that he had little faith in ‘dynamic forms’ of war. It is far more likely, he said, that the present situation will last for a good while. It suits the ‘Allies’; as for Hitler, he doesn’t dare raise a real storm. Germany is in ferment (as witnessed by the recent explosion in Munich), and has encountered serious resistance from the outside for the first time. Hitler is at a loss and doesn’t know what to do. He wants peace more than anything, but peace will become impossible if war begins in earnest. It will only need German planes to carry out a couple of bombardments of London for any


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hope of peace to be nipped in the bud. Hitler understands this, which is why he hesitates to make a decisive move: maybe something will turn up?!…
I was interested to know Beaverbrook’s opinion about the future settlement, should the war take its course. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Beaverbrook uttered abruptly: ‘Nothing good will come of it! Already in 1919 the French were dissatisfied with the Treaty of Versailles. They found it too soft. Clemenceau
Georges Clemenceau, French prime minister, 1906–09 and 1917–20; minister of war during the First World War; played an instrumental role in the establishment of the Treaty of Versailles.
thought that peace should have been concluded in Berlin. Should the Allies triumph now and enter Germany, I’m convinced that the French would destroy everything there which speaks of culture and civilization.’
‘And what would the British do in that case?’
Beaverbrook shrugged his shoulders.
Then we spoke about Anglo-Soviet relations. Beaverbrook would like to see them improved, but reproached us for delaying with our reply to the trade proposals. This makes a bad impression in London. We touched upon the Baltics and Finland. I informed Beaverbrook about the details. He said that personally he couldn’t care less about the Baltic Sea – the fate of the British Empire doesn’t depend on it. But, he added, the British are ‘a strange people’ and have ‘sentimental feelings toward small democracies’. That is why he ‘fears’ that if it comes to an ‘armed conflict’ between the USSR and Finland, this will be an even greater shock to British public opinion than the Soviet–German non-aggression pact.
I rebuked Beaverbrook for his comments and underlined the harmful and dangerous role played by the British press, including his own, with regard to the Finnish question. Beaverbrook tried to defend himself, but without much success.
Beaverbrook is sure that Chamberlain will retire soon for reasons of ill-health. He thinks that either Hoare or Halifax will succeed him. Churchill, apparently, has no chance at all. Even Eden is more likely to become prime minister. We shall see, however, whether Beaverbrook’s forecast proves correct, particularly as far as Churchill is concerned. I’ve noticed that Beaverbrook’s attitude to Churchill is very changeable: one day he might praise him as Britain’s greatest statesman, on another he might call him a ‘swindler’, ‘turncoat’ or ‘political prostitute’. Today he is madly annoyed with Churchill – isn’t that the real reason for his extreme pessimism about Churchill’s chances of becoming prime minister?
Time will tell.


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[While making his unauthorized overtures to his former allies in Britain, Maisky toiled hard to reconcile Molotov. In a tedious eight-page report, he addressed the crucial issue of whether England was heading towards war or peace. Having been reprimanded in a letter from Molotov of 11 November, Maisky reassured him that the present observations were based only on those politicians who counted. He portrayed Chamberlain as being firmly in the saddle, having successfully created a ‘united national front’ and having mobilized the Empire. In foreign policy, Chamberlain had been successful in isolating Hitler, now that the ‘anti-Comintern pact’ had lost its meaning, while the pact with the Turks had reconciled Britain with the Muslim world. On the whole, the position of British foreign policy had been ‘significantly enhanced during the first three months of the war’. Contradicting what he entered in his diary, he wrote to Molotov that he believed Chamberlain would ‘emerge victorious’ over the Churchill group and would seek to end the war through a dignified compromise. In the same breath he warned that Chamberlain’s policy remained hostile to the Soviet Union and ‘at the end of the day he might somehow succeed in diverting Hitler to the east’.
DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 806, 23 Nov. 1939.
]
16 November
I paid Aras a visit.
He said that in essence the Italians and French have already reached an agreement. The French are ceding Djibouti and the Djibouti–Addis-Ababa railway line to the Italians, as well as shares in the Suez Canal and posts in its administration. The status of Italians in Tunisia will be nearly equivalent to that of the French. In exchange, Italy pledges to remain absolutely neutral for the duration of the war. The signing of the agreement has to be postponed, however, as it would contravene the German–Italian pact, and Mussolini does not desire an open break with the Führer as yet. I’ll say! Mussolini is manoeuvring and marking time: maybe he’ll be able to raise his price. Besides, he does not want to commit himself too much to one or the other side until he is quite certain of who will come out on top.
Aras believes in the possibility neither of a Balkan bloc in general nor of a Balkan bloc specifically led by Italy. He discounts the former because the Balkan countries are still too much at variance with one another; and as for the idea of Italian leadership, he deems no Balkan bloc to be possible without Turkey, which will never agree to a bloc directed against the USSR. Aras would personally favour a ‘genuinely neutral’ Balkan bloc which maintains cordial relations with all the great powers (the USSR, Germany, Italy and Britain), but, unfortunately, he sees no likelihood of this being formed in the near future.
Aras does not believe that the war will be fought on a major scale. The Allies are still unwilling. Nor will Hitler agree to it, for he wants peace. War ‘in earnest’ would kill off that possibility. The two sides will drag this out until spring, especially after Göring’s assurance to Hitler that Germany is capable


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of holding out for at least two years. And in spring – who knows? – the USSR, Turkey and Italy might take it upon themselves to convene an international peace conference, and the war will be ended.
The Turks want peace, or else they will not be able to spend the money they now receive from Britain. For Aras, der Wunsch ist der Vater des Gedankens [the wish is the father of thoughts].
18 November
Noticeable changes have occurred over the last two or three weeks in the attitudes of the working masses towards the war.
On the whole ‘war enthusiasm’ has always been lacking here. Unlike at the beginning of the last war. And yet there has not been any noticeable opposition to the war either. This, again, is in stark contrast to 1914, when the I[ndependent] L[abour] P[arty] (a very serious organization at the time), under the leadership of MacDonald, Snowden, Smillie and others (then major figures in the labour movement), spoke out against the war from the very beginning. Opposition to the 1914 war may have been far removed from Marxist principles, but it played a major role in that period.
Things have turned out differently this time. Even the Communist Party did not immediately find the right line. In the early months of the war, the Communist Party acted under the slogan of war on two fronts, against fascism in Germany and against Chamberlain in Britain, for his failure to organize a real war against German fascism. It was only in early October that the Communist Party recognized this war as an imperialist war and began to advocate the necessity of peace. An anti-war position was still less to be expected from various groups and currents within the Labour Party or from the trades unions. I tell a lie: there was one exception, Lansbury, but he opposed the war as an advocate of non-resistance. It’s no wonder in such circumstances that the working masses, disorientated, stunned and shocked by the sudden events, followed Transport House out of habit. The latter not only gave Chamberlain its full support, but turned out to be more royalist than the king in its belligerence (‘Down with Hitler! Down with fascism!’).
Since late October, however, a certain shift in the mood of the masses has become apparent (the correction of the Communist Party line has played its part here). This immediately affected the ‘leaders’. Trades union councils in Glasgow, Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Bradford, Birmingham and other cities moved resolutions protesting against the war and calling for peace. Many local organizations of the Labour Party, together with county and district trades union organizations and others, acted in the same spirit. Out of 160 Labour MPs, only some 15 or so (including 6–7 associates of Lansbury) were against


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the war in early September. Today they number 40, that is, a quarter of Labour MPs. True, this 40 is a motley group – Lansbury and Co., Maxton and his Independents, lonely Cripps, and others – but still, opposition to the official line of the Labour Party is now fairly solid. Add to this floaters and doubters, who demand that the war aims of the British and the French be published, and it appears that about half of Parliamentary Labour is infected with ideas that Transport House finds undesirable. Moreover, there are many prominent figures in that half: apart from those mentioned above, there are also Shinwell,
Emmanuel Shinwell (Baron Shinwell of Easington), Labour MP, 1922–24, 1928–31, 1935–70; financial secretary to the War Office, 1929–30; minister of fuel and power, 1945–47.
Ellen Wilkinson, Pritt, Kirkwood,
David Kirkwood, British socialist.
Neil MacLean, Noel-Baker and others.
A symptom of the current shift is the election of Attlee as leader of Parliamentary Labour for the new session of parliament that is soon to begin. His rival was Greenwood, who stood in for Attlee during the latter’s illness over the summer and autumn months, including the moment when war was declared. Greenwood is in Chamberlain’s pocket and undoubtedly rendered him good service in the critical days leading up to the war and following its declaration. That is why the government wanted to see Greenwood, not Attlee, as leader of Parliamentary Labour. The bourgeois press campaigned noisily for Greenwood. Nonetheless, it was Attlee who was chosen. One should have no illusions about Attlee, but still, his election in the present situation is a ‘sign of the times’.
An interesting situation has also arisen in the Anglo-Russian Parliamentary Committee [ARPC]. Right after the conclusion of the Soviet–German non-aggression pact, and especially following the entry of the Soviet army into Poland, there was great agitation among the members of the Committee. Some even thought of resigning (like Tom Smith). Coates pleaded with them to keep their heads and not rush to conclusions. The members wanted to see me. We had a few meetings. As a result, nobody resigned and the Committee continues its work. They regularly publish important Soviet documents (in particular, speeches by Molotov and Voroshilov). Assuming there are no unexpected changes in the situation, one can count on the ARPC preserving its existence. But won’t there be changes…? Hard to predict. The times are exceptionally ‘dynamic’.
Yes, there are definite shifts in the mood of the masses. But let’s not delude ourselves: Transport House has a firm grip on the machinery of the Labour movement and any struggle against it will be far from easy.
20 November
Elliot came for lunch.


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We talked mostly about A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations. Elliot welcomes our readiness to seek ways of improving Anglo-Soviet relations. In response to my comment that, in order to ensure the improvement of relations, British diplomats should cease working against the USSR, Elliot said that Soviet accusations are highly exaggerated.
Then Elliot surveyed the global situation, making some observations along the way. In his opinion, British and Soviet interests in the Far East coincide: both sides want to prevent Japan’s victory in China. In Turkey, these interests, far from conflicting, are complementary. Britain is desperately keen for Ankara and Moscow to maintain a very close friendship, if only from its own egotistic considerations, namely, that the value of Turkey as an ally would fall steeply if its neighbour were an unfriendly or even simply indifferent USSR. As for Finland, the British government wishes above all for a peaceful settlement of the Soviet–Finnish dispute. Britain has no interests of its own in Finland, and it could hardly help Finland should help be needed (the case with Poland is instructive in this regard), so the British government would very much welcome an agreement between Moscow and Helsinki in the nearest future.
I retorted: ‘So what’s the matter? Why, in practice, do British diplomats follow the opposite line on the Finnish question?’
Elliot made reference to English public opinion, which is violently pro-Finnish, and to the pressure exerted on the government by Labour, which has close ties with the Finnish Social Democrats and Cooperatives (Tanner
Väinö Alfred Tanner, Finnish social-democrat foreign minister, 1939–40.
is the president of the International Cooperative Alliance) and is doing its best to help them.
I replied that I did not find his arguments terribly convincing. I adduced my own, showing that the issue was not just ‘public opinion’ but also the government.
At this point Elliot decided ‘to take the bull by the horns’ and stated directly that one should look at the root of the matter. The root of the matter is that Moscow and London are deeply suspicious of each other. The entire atmosphere of A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations is poisoned by this suspicion. As a result, even the most straightforward step taken by one side is immediately interpreted in the most menacing light by the other. Both sides live in an atmosphere of perpetual nightmare and invented fears. If the Soviet and British governments really do want to improve relations, then it is essential, first of all, that they change the current atmosphere. The suspicions and fears that have accumulated must be dispelled. The British government is of the opinion that personal contacts between members of the Soviet and British governments would be the best way of achieving this. Hence the idea of Elliot heading a delegation of ministerial


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colleagues and noted MPs to travel to the Moscow agricultural exhibition, about which we spoke in August. Unfortunately, the trip never took place. It was already too late. Hence now the idea of trade talks and sending Stanley to Moscow, about which Halifax and Stanley spoke to me a month or so ago. But there has been no response from us to this proposal. A great pity. Some members of the government interpret the delay as the Soviet government’s unwillingness to improve relations with Britain. Elliot himself does not think this to be the case, but he does think that unless Anglo-Soviet relations improve in the near future, they will begin to deteriorate. To what end? Elliot sees no good grounds for this deterioration.
I argued that relations between countries are defined not by fine words or personal contacts, but by deeds. The actions of British diplomats speak for themselves.
Then Elliot suddenly uttered out of the blue: ‘What is the sense in our disarming ourselves in advance? After all, we haven’t had the slightest signal from you to indicate that you really do want to improve relations.’
I parried this lunge.
21 November
Lunched with Beneš.
He recently returned from a trip to Paris and gave me a detailed account of his misadventures. He travelled to Paris to clarify whether a temporary Czechoslovak government could be established. It transpired that there was no chance of this happening because of the position taken by the French government. The French government strongly dislikes Beneš, considering him ‘too leftist’. They say on the Quai d’Orsay: ‘Beneš is a programme.’ A programme, moreover, that is unacceptable to a French government set on a highly reactionary course. Daladier did not want to receive Beneš officially, and Beneš did not want to meet him privately. As a result, the meeting never happened. Beneš saw Reynaud, Mandel, Herriot and others: they paid him private visits.
The specific cause of the French government’s hostility is the following. Daladier and other ministers advocate the partitioning of Germany (which Beneš deems nonsensical) and the creation after the war of an Austro-Hungarian monarchy headed by Otto von Habsburg.
Otto von Habsburg, the last crown prince of Austria-Hungary, 1916–19.
The monarchy should incorporate Austria, Bavaria, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. With aims such as these, Daladier is clearly not going to find common ground with Beneš.


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Beneš says he is treated perfectly well in London, but, as far as the establishment of a Czechoslovak government is concerned, the British government ‘displays little activity, despite its general sympathy’. Typically English: the British government plays a double game and refuses to make any commitments.
The question of a Czechoslovak government was raised during Beneš’s stay in Paris, but the French government was against ‘forcing’ the issue and categorically objected to Beneš’s possible participation in the government (to say nothing of the premiership). The French government would accept, as a last resort, a Czechoslovak government headed by Osouský, who dances attendance on the French government and directs his efforts against Beneš. No government, however, could be constructed on such a basis.
Then Czech circles in Paris put forward the idea of establishing a temporary ‘National Committee’, which would have at its disposal the Czechoslovak army currently being formed in France (it now numbers some 5,000). The French government agreed to this, but on condition that the committee did not include Beneš. The Czech army then organized a revolt, and the project for a National Committee faded. To rectify the situation, the French government suggested that the Czechoslovak army should be placed under Osouský as the sole representative of Czechoslovakia to be officially recognized by the French government. The army organized a second revolt, and declared that it did not want to be subordinated to a single man in general and to Osouský in particular. This led to a strange compromise: a National Committee should be formed, with Beneš as a member, and also Osouský, but Beneš would not be president. And that’s exactly what happened. But the National Committee has no official president; the unofficial one, of course, is Beneš.
All these frustrations with the ‘democracies’ has inevitably pushed Beneš towards the USSR. In the past, he has often told me that Czechoslovakia should maintain close ties with the Soviet Union, but he has never been as definite about it as he was today. He declared that he could not conceive of Czechoslovakia’s further historical existence outside an extremely close, inextricable bond with the USSR. He hinted that under certain conditions he could accept a federal link between his country and the Soviet Union. With precisely these considerations in mind, Beneš deems it absolutely essential for Czechoslovakia and the USSR to share a common border. This can be attained in one of two ways: by ceding the Carpathian Ukraine either to Czechoslovakia or to the USSR. Beneš does not care which of the alternatives is chosen. The only thing that matters to him is the existence of a common border between the two states. Hungary has no right whatsoever to possess the Carpathian Ukraine.
‘Bear in mind,’ Beneš said in conclusion, ‘that if during the war a socialist revolution should occur in Germany, to be followed by a civil war, and if in this


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civil war the West should support counter-revolutionaries and the East support the revolution, Czechoslovakia will certainly be on the side of the East.’
22 November
Sikorski
Władysław Eugeniusz Sikorski, Polish prime minister, 1922–23, and prime minister of the Polish government in exile and commander-in-chief of the Polish armed forces, 1939–43. Unsubstantiated conspiracy theories claim that Maisky, whose plane happened to be on the tarmac next to Sikorski’s at Gibraltar airport in July 1943, was involved in Sikorsky’s death, when the plane crashed during take-off.
and Zaleski have left London. Their visit had three main aims:
(1) To enhance the prestige of their so-called government.
(2) To arrange with the British for the provision of essential supplies for the Polish army in France, and to facilitate the formation of a Polish division in Canada.
(3) To obtain a promise from the British government to include in its ‘war aims’ the restoration of Poland within her pre-war borders.
Everything went more or less all right as far as the first point was concerned. Sikorski and Zaleski lunched with the king, dined with the PM and Halifax, and met Churchill, Hore-Belisha and other members of the government. But the English public gave them the cold shoulder. Even the press did not make much of a fuss. Little homage was rendered, and minimum attention paid.
On the second point, the Poles were given all sorts of promises, but only the future will show their real value.
As for the third – and fundamental – point, Sikorski and Zaleski were in for a big disappointment. In reply to their persistent requests for Poland’s former frontiers to be recognized, Halifax lectured them at length on the merits of the Curzon Line and generally stuck to the substance of his speech on 26 October in the House of Lords, stressing that now was not the time to fix the borders of the future Poland. Mention of the fact that Daladier had already recognized the pre-war frontiers also made no difference.
In connection with the question of boundaries, the following incident occurred in the Polish embassy during Sikorski’s stay in London. Sikorski was giving an interview to the press. About a dozen noted diplomatic correspondents were present, as well as Gu Weijun. The interview itself was extremely dull, but it was followed by questions. Gu asked whether the Polish government drew a distinction between German and Soviet actions in respect of Poland. Sikorski answered in the negative. He didn’t limit himself to this answer, however, and came right out with it like a soldier: ‘Our point of view is supported by both the French and British governments.’


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The next day the FO raised hell with Raczyński: what grounds did Sikorski have to make such a statement?
Raczyński was rattled and began denying outright the fact of Sikorski’s statement.
27 November
Halifax invited me over to discuss the trade negotiations. He began, however, with Finland.
Expressing his great concern about the aggravation of the Soviet–Finnish conflict, Halifax began interrogating me in detail about the Moscow talks. I told him as much as I knew, stressing the uncompromising and even provocative behaviour of the Finnish government, particularly that of Erkko and Cajander.
Aimo Kaarlo Cajander, Finnish prime minister, 1937–39.
I also pointed out that the Finns refuse to come to terms with reality and inhabit a world of incomprehensible fantasy. Their strange behaviour cannot be explained merely by their stubbornness and slow-wittedness. I myself lived in Finland for three and a half years. I know the Finnish character and could assure Halifax that, left to their own devices, the Finns would not have behaved as they have during the entire course of negotiations with us. It is quite clear that there is someone behind them, encouraging them and pushing them towards their insane policy. I say ‘insane’ because, although the USSR would like nothing better than to settle the present dispute in neighbourly fashion, it has to consider its own security interests and those of Leningrad in particular. It is beyond doubt that influence is being exerted on the Finns from abroad.
Halifax interrupted me at this point and asked with an air of angelic innocence: ‘And where might those influences come from? America?’
I replied that the USA in general, and Roosevelt in particular, bear some responsibility for the aggravation of the Soviet–Finnish conflict, but there are some countries ‘closer to home’ whose responsibility is even greater. I named Scandinavia (especially Sweden) and… England. Halifax was evidently shocked at this mention of his motherland. To show straightaway the basis of my accusation, I drew his attention to the behaviour of the British press: ‘Think about it,’ I said. ‘Throughout the six weeks of our talks with the Finns, I haven’t seen a single article in the English press which would support, or at least explain, the position of the Soviet Union and the motives that guide it. Quite the opposite. During this period there have been hundreds of articles in the English press shielding Finland unconditionally and defending its position. Doesn’t that say something?’


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‘But we have freedom of the press…,’ Halifax began, dishing up the old English excuse.
‘Forgive me, Lord Halifax,’ I interrupted him, ‘for pointing out that I am quite familiar with your practices. I know the extent of your powers with regard to the press. And I also know, from long experience, that the English press would not have displayed such amazing unanimity on the Finnish issue, over such a long period of time, without being guided by some hidden hand. However, the Soviet government also has other evidence of the regrettable role that Britain has been playing in the Soviet–Finnish conflict, in addition to the conduct of the English press.’
Halifax started objecting. There is no denying that Britain is well disposed to Finland, but it has no serious interests there. All the British government wishes for now is a peaceful settlement of the present dispute. For it would be undesirable to create a new focus of international complications in addition to those that already exist. Halifax has told the Finnish ambassador in London more than once that Finland should not be unreasonable in its negotiations with the USSR.
‘This, however, was not noticeable during or indeed after the negotiations,’ I retorted.
Halifax turned to the incident which occurred yesterday on the Finno-Soviet border and asked whether there might not be some mistake or


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misunderstanding. He half-suggested getting a mixed Soviet–Finnish commission to investigate.
I replied that the matter was now entirely in the hands of the Soviet government, and that I didn’t know what their next step would be.
That was the end of our conversation about Finland. Halifax sighed and moved onto another subject. He took out a sheet from the papers lying in a folder in front of him, looked at it and said in the most innocent, matter-of-fact tone that Citrine and some other trades union leaders had asked him to talk to me about the fate of the Polish trades union leaders who were said to have been arrested in the part of Poland that had passed over to us. Halifax wanted to hand me a list of the said persons, in which the names of Alter,
Viktor Alter, Polish trade union leader and a member of the Central Committee of the Bund, 1919–39; arrested and shot in 1941.
Himelfarb,
Hershl Himelfarb, a leading figure in the Bund and active trade unionist in Warsaw, 1918–39.
Ehrlich,
Henryk Ehrlich, leader of the Jewish Workers’ Federation in pre-war Poland; arrested and shot in 1941.
Mastek
Mieczysław Mastek, member of the Sejm and deputy chairman of the Union of Railroad workers.
and others caught my eye. But I declined to take the piece of paper and said: ‘To tell you the truth, I’m greatly surprised at your démarche. The individuals concerned are former Polish subjects. As far as I know, they have not become British citizens. So what does the British government have to do with them? The British government does not have a locus standi here.
Halifax was embarrassed and started defending himself. The British government does indeed lack formal grounds for raising the matter of Polish trades unionists. Halifax merely wanted to carry out Citrine’s request. He thought that if we attached importance to the English workers’ movement, then…
‘But you scarcely attach any importance to it now,’ he said, cutting himself short.
I did not object. Halifax put the paper back in the folder, apologized for the misunderstanding, and finally moved on to the main issue – the trade negotiations.
He took the bull by the horns and asked me bluntly: do we want these negotiations or not? Basing itself on my statement of 27 September, the British government had prepared its proposals, which Stanley submitted to me more than a month ago. Halifax has been actively promoting the opening of negotiations in government. He believes it to be the best way to attain a general improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations, which he greatly desires. However, our prolonged silence has begun to make him doubt whether we genuinely wish to negotiate.
I replied that I saw no reason for such doubts and said that the British themselves also seemed to be in no hurry to begin trade negotiations. Besides,


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one should not forget that trade is bound up with politics. Sometimes politics gets in the way of trade, and sometimes it’s the other way round.
Halifax agreed that politics and trade are closely linked, but asked me to make inquiries in Moscow and give him a definite answer. The British government wants to clarify this question. I promised to do so.
At the very end, Halifax raised the question of the behaviour of the Soviet press. I think he meant not so much the press, as Comrade Molotov’s speeches, but preferred to lay everything at the door of the press out of diplomatic considerations. Halifax has been keeping a close eye on the Soviet press recently and has established to his regret that its general tone is not merely unfriendly, but openly hostile to Britain. This is most unfortunate, for it hinders the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations, which he so desires.
I answered that in my opinion the Soviet press has taken a critical position in respect to Britain for two main reasons.
First, the Soviet press is simply paying back the British press in its own coin. After all, the latter has been utterly hostile to the USSR in recent months. I have just mentioned Finland as one example, but there are others.
Secondly, our press reflects our public opinion, and our public suspects and feels that British diplomacy is working against us all over the world (I cited the examples I had given earlier in conversations with Churchill, Elliot and others). This elicits an unfriendly attitude on the part of Soviet public opinion towards Britain, an attitude echoed in the press.
My words produced a quite unexpected effect. Halifax – always so pale, unperturbed, almost half-frozen – suddenly turned red, became agitated, all but leapt out of his armchair, and set about heatedly demonstrating that the Soviet government’s suspicions were unfounded (I had been speaking about public opinion, not the Soviet government, but Halifax named the latter). Britain has enough troubles as it is. Britain is not scheming against the Soviet Union on the international stage and does not wish to do so. He fails to see why the British government should wish to do so, since there is nowhere that the interests of our countries collide. In the Far East, the British government is merely striving after a certain improvement in relations with Japan (‘which the Soviet government is also striving after’, added Halifax rather spitefully), but not at the expense of the USSR. In Turkey, the British government is extremely keen to see the strengthening of Soviet–Turkish friendship. In Scandinavia and Finland, the British government is not conducting a policy hostile to the USSR. On the contrary, the British government wishes to improve its relations with the Soviet Union – ‘if, of course, the Soviet government desires the same’, Halifax sniped again. The proposal for trade talks was a concrete manifestation of this wish. These talks may be stuck at present, but that’s not the fault of the British government.


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I replied that all this was very well, but if British diplomacy did not change its line, it would be difficult to conceive of a real improvement in relations between the two countries.
Halifax flared up once more and, clearly irritated, set about proving once again that we are in the wrong. Of course the British government is not happy about what happened in Poland, but it would not like to be detained by this episode for too long. Rather, it would like to improve its relations with the USSR as soon as possible. He asks me to explain all this to my government.
As he was seeing me out of his office, Halifax returned once again to the question of Finland. Appealing to me as president of the Council of the L[eague] of N[ations], he asked me to bring all my influence to bear on warding off an acute conflict with Finland.
Halifax emerged from the meeting convinced, like Cadogan, that it was ‘quite useless talking to Maisky’. The Russians, he complained, were simply ‘impossible people’ to deal with. In his report home, Maisky, who had gone far beyond what Molotov wished in advancing the trade negotiations, portrayed himself as having been in full command of the conversation, though to Halifax he had seemed evasive and ill at ease. Aware of the likelihood of hostilities in the north, he preferred to water down Halifax’s warning; TNA FO 371 N6717/99138 & TNA FO 800/328, Halifax to General Gort, 28 Nov. 1939; DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 811.
Looking Halifax straight in the face, I replied: ‘This will depend not only on us, but also on the conduct of the Fin[nish] G[overnment] and some others!’
Halifax gave an embarrassed laugh.
28 November
[Included is a cutting from the Evening Standard with a satirical description of the ceremony to mark the opening of parliament.]
A fine sample of journalism from the paper which some like to call the Evening Rubbish.
Agniya and I attended the opening of parliament.
Afterwards I went to lunch with Butler. He received me not at his place (he was afraid I might catch the ’flu from his father, who was ill), but at the home of his parliamentary secretary, a beautiful mansion with numerous paintings, luxurious furniture and a handsome dining-room in the style of the Alhambra. The host was absent. We ate alone.
Vansittart had advised ministers to give Maisky ‘a rather wide berth … for he derives some illusions from his imaginary successes’. Butler, who regarded Maisky as an ‘agreeable scoundrel’, politely turned down Maisky’s invitations to the embassy and preferred to lunch with him in the privacy of the home of Henry Channon, his parliamentary secretary, so as not ‘to be seen with him in public’. The host, on his return, did not forget to ‘check up on the snuff-boxes … but did not notice anything missing’. When he finally met Maisky in person, Channon, a notorious right-winger found him ‘far better than I had expected … clever, shrewd and humorous … The new order is not so terrible as I feared; one could certainly get on with Bevin and perhaps even with Maisky, too’; TNA FO 371 23701 N5717/5717/18; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.848 l.3; Rhodes, Chips, pp. 21 and 261.
For no less than an hour and a half, Butler, swearing on his honour, deployed every means possible to persuade me that the British government was not engaged in any kind of diplomatic game against the USSR (Butler obviously knew about my conversation yesterday with his boss). Our suspicions about the intentions of the British government are absolutely unfounded. The British policy is not as Machiavellian as some assume it to be. It is simple, and is currently defined by the basic and decisive fact that Britain is at war with Germany. Britain has its hands full. It does not have the slightest desire to aggravate the difficulties ensuing from this war by adding to their number. Britain has no desire to have the USSR, as well as Germany, as its enemy. Hence the sincere desire of the British government to improve Anglo-Soviet relations.


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All the more so as this is quite possible: the British government believes that the actual interests of Great Britain and the USSR do not clash anywhere. Hence the proposal for trade negotiations, which are important not so much per se but as a first step on the way to a general settling of relations. Unfortunately, nothing has been heard from the Soviet government for more than a month in response to the British proposals. A great pity. Halifax is particularly vexed by our silence: he was fighting energetically in government for negotiations to be opened, and now finds himself in a foolish position.
I listened more than I spoke.
Butler then made ‘a short tour of the globe’ to illustrate the fact that the interests of the two powers do not clash in any place.
He began with Finland. Britain has never induced or encouraged Finland to oppose Soviet proposals. Britain maintains cordial relations with Finland and advised the Finns not to be unreasonable (Halifax’s words exactly). Unfortunately, the Finns are too ‘stubborn and inflexible’ and failed to understand the British ‘advice’, which was of course given ‘in a delicate form’. That’s the whole trouble.
I mocked Butler – ‘in a delicate form’, of course.
Then Butler turned to Scandinavia. Britain’s interests there are mainly economic. In particular, it imports some of its iron ore from Sweden. However, Britain could not accept the capture of Sweden or Norway by a great power. At first I thought Butler was referring to the German threat to the Scandinavian countries. It turned out he was not! He suspects the USSR of such far-reaching ambitions. Perhaps the USSR would like to have an ice-free port in the Atlantic. Maybe Narvik? Or Bergen? Perhaps the USSR would like to add Swedish iron ore to its riches…
I mocked Butler once again – delicately, of course.
From Scandinavia, Butler moved on to the Balkans. The British policy there consists of fattening up the Balkan states (particularly Turkey, Greece and Rumania) and relieving their markets of a certain quantity of products which Germany needs to wage war (food, oil, etc.). In the field of politics, Britain is taking a restrained, wait-and-see position in the Balkans. The major aim of British policy there is to prevent Germany’s access to the Black Sea and to Rumanian oil, and to keep the Balkans from being drawn into the war. Britain is indifferent to the fate of Bessarabia. In Butler’s opinion, there are no clashes of interest between Great Britain and the Soviet Union in this part of the world.
The British government is wary about the idea of a Balkan pact. It avoids taking sides between Italy and Turkey. Anglo-Italian relations are improving fast, but still have a long way to go before ‘both partners could go off hunting tigers together’. That’s why Britain keeps its counsel about Italian aspirations


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in the Balkans: it does not want to injure its ‘friend’, Turkey. But it was unclear from Butler’s words what the British government’s eventual choice would be.
As far as Turkey is concerned, the British government desires above all the resumption of cordial negotiations between Moscow and Ankara.
The Near East? Here Butler surprised me again. He admits, or rather suspects, that the USSR might wish to have a ‘warm port’ in the Persian Gulf and might even entertain the idea of a ‘march on India’. If the USSR does cherish such aspirations, then some complications could arise in its relations with England. But does the USSR have such aspirations?
I mocked Butler for a third time, but now in a far less delicate form.
Finally, the Far East. The British policy in this part of the world boils down to the possible normalization of relations with Japan, without renouncing Jiang Jieshi. This is no easy task, but it does not at any rate contradict Soviet interests. Moreover, the internal situation in Japan is currently very bad today, and Butler reckons that she will need to start retreating before too long.
What conclusion can be deduced from this ‘tour of the globe’?
Butler’s conclusion is as follows: there is every chance of a serious improvement in A[nglo]-S[oviet] relations. All that is needed is the will. The British government has the will. Does the Soviet government?
I tried to reassure Butler.
29 November
Yesterday evening the Soviet government renounced the Soviet–Finnish non-aggression pact in view of its violation by the hostile actions of Finland. Diplomatic relations with Finland were broken off tonight… At the same time, Molotov has said, in a speech which I heard over the radio, that had Finland been an amicably disposed country, it would have been possible to discuss the issue of the reunification of Soviet Karelia with Finland.
So, the non-aggression pact has been renounced! When I signed it on 21 January 1932 with Yrjö-Koskinen, Finland’s foreign minister at the time, it never crossed my mind that the pact would meet such an end.
I vividly recall the various details of that diplomatic event. Almost simultaneously, at the end of 1931, the USSR launched a large-scale ‘peaceful offensive’, entering into negotiations on non-aggression pacts with France in the west and Poland, Latvia, Estonia and Finland in the east (the non-aggression pact with Lithuania had been signed back in 1926, while we still did not have diplomatic relations with Rumania). The Soviet government had already made an attempt to conclude non-aggression pacts with the limitrophes back in 1927 and 1928, but French opposition put paid to it. In 1931, however, change was afoot in Franco-Soviet relations, and Paris raised the question of such a


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pact being signed. The negotiations, it must be said, were hard-going, bumpy and subject to interruptions, but they continued all the same. This altered the situation and encouraged one to hope of pacts being concluded with the limitrophes.
Each of the countries with whom we conducted negotiations had its own internal problems, which hampered the progress of the talks. Moreover, each country kept glancing at its neighbour to see how it was going. Was it really going to sign a pact or was it just playing games and manoeuvring? This was an additional and serious obstacle in our path. A diplomatic breakthrough needed to be made somewhere and the first pact concluded. Then the remaining partners would agree more easily.
I managed to make a breakthrough in Finland. On the face of it, the chances of this happening seemed negligible. Finns are extremely sluggish and slow-witted in their actions. They are extremely cautious. And they are extremely hostile to everything ‘Russian’, especially ‘Soviet Russian’ – far more hostile than Estonians or Latvians. Finally, they are significantly stronger and more solid as a nation than all the other Baltic countries. Everything seemed to come together to make a breakthrough in Finland utterly unfeasible and improbable.
Yet it was right here that the breakthrough was made! The political situation in Finland had improved considerably by early 1932, as compared with 1931 and especially 1930. It was also a stroke of luck that Yrjö-Koskinen happened to be minister for foreign affairs at the time. In a sense, I was the one who made him foreign minister. It happened like this. Changes in the Cabinet were under way in the spring of 1931, after Svinhufvud
Pehr Evind Svinhufvud, Finnish prime minister, 1917–18 and 1930–31; Finnish president, 1931–37.
was elected president of Finland. The former foreign minister Procopé
Hjalmar Johan Fredrik Procopé, Finnish foreign minister, 1927–31; ambassador to the USA, 1939–44.
retired and, being a ‘non-party Swede’, decided to leave politics and go into business. Svinhufvud was looking for a new foreign minister. Yrjö-Koskinen was one of several candidates. At the end of 1930 he had been sent to Moscow as the Finnish envoy (I pulled strings for him there, too), but now Svinhufvud was recalling him to Helsinki for consultation. Yrjö-Koskinen found himself in a difficult position: on the one hand, he did not want to leave his Moscow post, which he had been seeking for so long; on the other hand, the prospect of becoming foreign minister flattered him. He turned to me for advice: could he not leave Moscow for an extended trip to Helsinki without abandoning his post as envoy? Would the Soviet government be satisfied if – for several months, a year, or perhaps more – only a chargé d’affaires were present in Moscow? The query did not come out of the blue. A few years earlier, Procopé, then the Finnish envoy in Warsaw,


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was appointed foreign minister, but tried to keep his post in Poland as well. It didn’t work! The Poles waited three or four months and then demanded: either Procopé returns to Warsaw or the Finnish government must appoint a new envoy, because, you see, the prestige of the Polish state cannot permit the lengthy representation of Finland in Warsaw by a chargé d’affaires. Procopé chose the Foreign Ministry and cut his ties with Poland. Yrjö-Koskinen feared we might follow the example of the Poles. That wouldn’t have suited him at all. In that case, he’d have preferred to stay in Moscow.
Yrjö-Koskinen had to give his answer to the president in a few hours. I had no time to consult Moscow. So I decided to act at my own risk, guided by common sense. I told Yrjö-Koskinen: accept the foreign minister portfolio; Moscow will not feel ‘offended’ if a chargé d’affaires occupies the embassy for a year or more. Yrjö-Koskinen thanked me with an ardour out of keeping with his phlegmatic temperament and was appointed foreign minister the next day. Moscow also approved of my action: Yrjö-Koskinen was the best possible Finnish foreign minister in the circumstances of the time. Moreover, purely selfish considerations meant that he had every reason to aim for an improvement in relations between the USSR and Finland.
So now, when a breakthrough was needed on the diplomatic front, Yrjö-Koskinen was just the man. The idea of a non-aggression pact had his full approval. Svinhufvud valued his opinion and had taken him under his wing. Personally, I was on good terms with Koskinen: he never forgot that I had helped him become envoy in Moscow and foreign minister in Helsinki. All this was in our favour. There was just one problem: Yrjö-Koskinen was an incorrigible, beastly drinker. A true Finn. This sometimes put him out of action for several days running. During these bouts his wife would tell everyone, even his close colleagues and friends, that her husband was ill, and she wouldn’t let anyone near him, not even his closest colleagues and friends. But I had no time to spare.
In any case, the talks began on or around 7 January 1932. I had been to Moscow for a week and had brought all the necessary materials and instructions. I was in a great hurry, with Yrjö-Koskinen’s sluggish temperament uppermost in my mind. We met nearly every day. On the whole, I was making good progress. The military and members of the ‘suojeluskunta’ [Finnish White Guard fighters during the Russian Civil War] got in the way a bit. Once, Yrjö-Koskinen hit the bottle and the conference was delayed for three days. After that I asked his wife to keep an eye on him and not let him get so drunk. She gave her word and kept it. The talks were concluded in 15 days, and the non-aggression pact was signed on 21 January. The first pact in our ‘peace offensive’ of 1931–1932. M.M. sent me his congratulations by telegram. The Central Committee was very pleased.


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Things got easier after my breakthrough. Pacts were signed with Latvia on 5 February, with Estonia on 4 May, with Poland on 25 July, and finally with France on 29 November. We were victorious along the whole front.
Yrjö-Koskinen was also rewarded: he remained Finland’s permanent representative in Moscow for almost nine years. His ambassadorship ended today…
I can’t understand the present position of the Finnish government. Of course, the British, French and Scandinavians have all been meddling there, confusing the Finns and drastically exacerbating a conflict which could have been settled in a neighbourly way. Still… don’t the Finns understand that, if trouble comes, they can’t count on anyone to help them? Who will help them? The Swedes? The British? The Americans? Like hell they will! A racket in the newspapers, moral support, oohing and aahing – yes. Troops, aeroplanes, cannons, guns – no. Butler told me plainly yesterday: ‘Should anything happen, we wouldn’t be able to send a single warship to Finland.’
What are the Finns counting on? What explanation can be found for their crazy provocations?
[As early as February 1939, Stalin had unsuccessfully sought to persuade Finland to cede territories which he deemed to be essential for the defence of Leningrad, a mere 33 kilometres away from the Finnish border. Haunted by the still vivid memory of Western intervention in that region during the Civil War, Stalin feared that Finland might serve as ‘a springboard’ for an Anglo-Franco-German attack on the Soviet Union. After subjecting the Baltic States to similar arrangements, negotiations with Finland were resumed in Moscow on 12 October and limped on until 9 November. The Russians demanded that Finland cede a number of islands in the Gulf of Finland, part of the Karelian Isthmus, and a peninsula in the Petsamo district, as well as lease to the Soviet Union part of the Hanko peninsula. In return, the Finns were to receive the large but unpopulated East Karelian territory. The Finns rejected the Soviet offers and the talks broke down. A border incident on 30 November led the Russians to unleash a full-scale war. In the early stages of the ‘winter war’, the Russians faced unexpectedly stiff resistance, which exposed the fragility of the Red Army in the wake of the purges. Only in March 1940 did the Russians break through the Mannerheim Line and force a peace treaty. The unpopular task of blaming the war on the stubbornness of the Finns, allegedly encouraged by the British, fell to Maisky.
The best account of the negotiations, seen from the Finnish side, is P. Salmon, ‘Great Britain, the Soviet Union and Finland at the beginning of the Second World War’, in J. Hiden and T. Lane (eds), The Baltic and the Outbreak of the Second World War (Cambridge, 1992); see also H. Shukman and A.O. Chubarian, Stalin and the Soviet-Finnish War, 1939–1940 (London, 2002).
]
1 December
So, we too have our own ‘war’. Cajander, Tanner and Co. finally brought things to a head. On the morning of 30 November, the Red Army was forced to cross Finland’s border and move deep into its territory…
The British have reacted with fury. The press, the radio, the cinema, parliament – everything has been mobilized. Chamberlain, Attlee, Dalton,


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Mander, Fletcher,
R.T.H. Fletcher, lieutenant commander, personal parliamentary secretary to the first lord of the Admiralty, 1935–42.
Silverman
Samuel Sydney Silverman, Labour MP for Nelson and Colne, 1935–68.
and others delivered anti-Soviet speeches at yesterday’s session in the House of Commons. The newspapers are kicking up a storm. They began, of course, with sensational and heart-rending reports, claiming that the Soviet planes which bombed Helsinki yesterday were specifically targeting the civilian population and that some planes swooped to shoot from machine-guns at women and children running along the roads! An old story! Regrettably, however, it still has its effect on the man in the street. I’m taking measures to rebuff such anti-Soviet slander.
The British government’s position is to wait and see. It wants to observe which way the wind is blowing. There are no signs of active British intervention in Finnish affairs so far. But I can’t say for sure how the British government will act if the events in Finland drag on. I doubt, however, that Chamberlain will give open military assistance to Tanner, Cajander and Co.: he won’t want to have the USSR as an enemy in the European war, in addition to Germany.
3 December
Three months of war.
Much has changed in British life over this short period of time. More than a million have been called to arms, with some being deployed on the French front, and the greater part training at home. On the street, on the omnibus, on the underground, in the theatre, at the skating-rink – everywhere there are military uniforms. And not only men’s. A great number of women are to be seen in khaki: rugged boots, short skirts and perky caps from which clumps of unruly hair stick out. They are members of the women’s Auxiliary Territorial Service. There are relatively few cars on the roads and in the city: petrol is rationed and the rations are far from generous. Sandbags are piled up high in front of buildings, shops, institutions and monuments. The monument at Piccadilly Circus is shielded by an entire pyramid of sandbags. In parks, gardens and on public squares there are gas-proof shelters, bomb shelters and anti-aircraft batteries. The air is filled with hundreds of balloons, their silver scales sparkling in the sun (on the rare occasions when it shines). Strict black-out is enforced in the evenings. It’s pitch-black, especially in our Kensington Palace Gardens. It’s difficult, dangerous and cheerless to move around after sunset. The theatres and picture-houses are open, but not all of them, and those that are open close early. Social life has come to a stand-still: no grand receptions, no banquets, no diplomatic functions. Even the lord mayor cancelled his annual banquet scheduled for 9 November. Food prices are rising, while the quantity and choice


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of products shrink. Rationing is being introduced for butter, bacon and sugar. There are complaints of food shortages in certain regions. A series of restrictions has been imposed on the freedom of movement, the press, correspondence, etc.
Yes, there are many changes. But so far the basic patterns of English life have not been disturbed too much. Parliament functions normally, albeit with a few restrictions. The old party system is also functioning, although an electoral truce has been concluded between the parties for the duration of the war. The old government is also working as before, although it has been somewhat ‘freshened up’ with the introduction of Churchill and Eden. Chamberlain is stronger than before: all rumours and discussions of his retirement have subsided. ‘Public liberties’ have not been entirely curtailed in spite of the DSRA [sic – probably Defence of the Realm Act intended]. Even the Daily Worker still comes out regularly. The Communist Party remains legal, and people are not yet being thrown into prison for anti-government speeches in Hyde Park. Workers’ wages have been raised because of the spiralling prices, but these wage hikes, of course, always lag behind increases in costs. The war has begun to inflame patriotic passions, but these have not yet enslaved the people’s minds completely. Sober voices can still be heard, and signs of tolerance can be noted: out of the 13,000 Austro-German refugees who appeared before a specially established tribunal, only 300 to 400 people were interned and the rest were set free (in France all were interned, including such men as Leon Feuchtwanger
Lion Jacob Feuchtwanger, German novelist and playwright.
). On the whole, the customary machinery of British bourgeois power, with its subtle systemic bribing of the working masses, is still in good order, although slight faults are beginning to emerge in individual levers and cogs. London itself has changed little in appearance. It’s the same old London – true, it has furrowed its brow, tightened its belt and put on its work clothes for a dirty job, but it’s still the familiar London. Even the places of amusement are chock-full, regardless of the darkness and the bleakness of the ‘black-out’.
Such is the situation for now. Will it last long?
Hard to say. One thing is certain: the habitual, familiar, age-old mode of life will be eroded more and more with each additional month of war.
5 December
In Terijoki, the People’s Government of the Finnish Democratic Republic has been formed. The Soviet government has recognized it and concluded a pact of mutual assistance. The People’s Government ceded Hangö to the USSR (for 30 years) and a number of islands in the Gulf of Finland, and has agreed to rectify the borders on the Karelian Isthmus and the Rybachi Peninsula. By


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way of compensation, the Soviet government has given the FDR 70,000 square kilometres of land in the territory of the K[arelian] A[utonomous] R[epublic] and paid out more than 2 million pounds. The First Finnish Corps is being formed in Terijoki. Ratifications are to be exchanged in Helsinki.
The die is cast. Now we have to see it through to the end. Yesterday, on behalf of the reorganized ‘government of Finland’ headed by Bank of Finland director Ryti
Risto Heikki Ryti, Finnish prime minister, 1939–40; Finnish president, 1940–44.
(Tanner is his foreign minister), a Swedish messenger in Moscow, Winter, proposed to Comrade Molotov that the negotiations should resume. Comrade Molotov declined the proposal, saying that the Soviet government recognizes only the People’s Government in Terijoki. Earlier, on 2 December, Ryti and Tanner had appealed to the League of Nations to demand that the ‘Finnish question’ be placed before the LN’s Council and Assembly. Avenol, of course, leapt at this excellent chance to spite the Soviet Union. He consulted the British and the French, who gave their blessing. As a result, on 3 December the secretariat sent out invitations to all members to come to the Council meeting on the 9th and to the Assembly on 11 December. In his response to Avenol by cable on 4 December, Comrade Molotov said that there were no grounds for raising the ‘Finnish question’ because the Soviet Union was not in a state of war with Finland, but was merely giving assistance to the People’s Government of the FDR, which was pursuing the struggle to purge Finland of Ryti, Tanner and Co. If the LN is nevertheless convened, the USSR will not attend.
In connection with all this kafuffle, the Star devoted much space to me personally. First, it published the following leader:
December 5, 1939 MR MAISKY STAYS AWAY The urbane Mr Maisky is not going to Geneva. He begs to be excused, even though he is the retiring President of the League Council. His coyness is understandable. During the past five years no diplomat has put the case against aggression with greater force than Mr Maisky. If Mr Maisky went to Geneva now he might find himself disconcerted by echoes of his old speeches. Banquo’s ghost, in the shape of the Finnish delegate, might rise up and quote the words Mr Maisky used at Oxford on August 7, 1936: ‘The peaceful nations have so far been timid and not coherent enough to effect any real resistance to the few bullies who aimed at the domination of the world… It should take the form of a united front of all peaceful nations against the danger of war and against aggression from whatever quarter it might come.’ Heard again, after the bombing of Helsinki, those words would have a hollow, mocking ring.


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Or the Polish government’s representative at Geneva might be tactless enough to quote Mr Maisky’s pledge on behalf of the Soviet [sic] when he visited the Temple of Peace at Cardiff in July of this year, ‘We have always believed that the principle of peace must if necessary be defended against aggression.’
We wonder if Mr Maisky recalled some of these phrases when he regretted his inability to accept the kind invitation of the League. There is often no critic a man dislikes facing so much as his own former self.
Second, on the previous day, 4 December, the paper’s columnist devoted half a column to me and the current situation.
[There follows a cutting from the Star, 4 December 1939.]
The News Chronicle, which currently finds itself in a paroxysm of anti-Soviet frenzy, also saw fit to mention me.
All these people have not the slightest notion of dialectics!
[There follows a cutting from the News Chronicle: an excerpt from the editorial, 4 December 1939.
The News Chronicle stated that European and American public opinion sympathized with Finland. It was ironical that the Finns appealed to the League of Nations, the president


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of which was Maisky, who on behalf of his country had signed the Soviet–Finnish non-aggression pact in 1932.
]
8 December
The events in Finland have elicited very strong responses and reverberations all over the world. Here are a few details.
Guo Taiqi visited me two days ago. He was terribly alarmed and upset. What was the matter? It turned out that some Brits (he swore they were not from the Foreign Office) had been persistently whispering in his ear over recent days that the USSR had changed its general political line, that one could not rely on the USSR any longer, and that sooner or later it would turn its back on China to seek an agreement with Japan. Proof of this was the Soviet Union’s ‘attack’ on Finland. Guo Taiqi had come to ask me if there were any grounds for these rumours. Naturally, I did my utmost to reassure him. At the end Guo Taiqi himself began reasoning ‘almost like a Marxist’ (as he put it). He constructed the following syllogism: ‘The policies of the USSR are guided entirely by its own interests. A strong China, capable of withstanding Japan, is a direct Soviet interest. Ergo, the USSR cannot leave China to the mercy of fate.’
Guo Taiqi left me with his mind at ease. On parting, he told me that he would do all he could at the League of Nations (where is going as second delegate) to ‘alleviate the situation’. I doubt he can do anything tangible as China’s situation in the League of Nations will be very delicate this time around, while Gu Weijun


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(the first delegate) is not a brave fellow and prefers to go AWOL in difficult situations. This has happened more than once in the past – on the Spanish question, for example.
Yesterday, Aras came over. A different circumstance concerns him. The German press and radio have been carrying out a major campaign in recent days to the effect that Berlin and Moscow have a secret agreement to bring about a radical realignment of forces in the world. It is alleged, in accordance with this agreement, that after finishing with Finland, the USSR will turn southward and advance to the Balkans, the Near East and India, and that Germany will give it the requisite support. Yesterday the Völkischer Beobachter openly called on the USSR to repeat the conquests of Alexander the Great. In Washington, the German chargé d’affaires gave an interview to the press (see Washington Times and Herald of 4 December) in which, appearing to speak on behalf not only of Germany, but also of the USSR, he stated that Bessarabia and control over the Straits would be the Soviet government’s next moves after Finland.
All these concoctions had worked Aras up into a state and he spent a long time arguing that Germany wants to ‘push’ the USSR into Asia, so as to deal a blow to Britain throughout the Near East and India with ‘Russian hands’, thereby alleviating Germany’s position and simplifying its tasks in Europe.
So, once again I had to do the job of reassuring, demonstrating to the Turkish ambassador the absurdity of Germany’s calculations – if such calculations actually exist in the minds of Hitler and Ribbentrop.
Aras told me in passing that in October and November he himself had advised Gripenberg
George Achates Gripenberg, Finnish envoy to Great Britain, 1933–41.
on several occasions to lean on the Finnish government and convince it to reach an agreement with the USSR.
‘I told him,’ Aras exclaimed, ‘that if the conflict comes to a head, you will be abandoned! Nobody will help you!’
Gripenberg, according to Aras, agreed entirely, but Helsinki, spurred on by Sweden and others, adhered to a different point of view. As for the British government, Aras says it behaved like Pontius Pilate: it dispensed no advice at all, simply telling the Finns to ‘decide for yourselves’. Somehow I find this difficult to believe.
On the whole, it seemed to me that on this occasion Aras had been sent to me by the FO. He told me that the previous day he had seen Butler, who was most unhappy at having to represent the British government in Geneva and who was going to adopt a ‘moderate line’ there. Before leaving, Aras asked me ‘between friends’ whether there was anything I wished him to pass on to Butler before he left. He was seeing Butler the next day. I said I had no such messages.


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Yesterday I also had a visit from Subbotić, the Yugoslav ambassador. He was also alarmed, almost panicking. The German campaign plus Stefanov’s
Boris Stefanov, general secretary of the Rumanian Communist Party, 1936–40.
article in the recent issue of the Communist International (which makes it clear to Rumania that it had better conclude a mutual assistance pact with the USSR according to the example of the Baltic States, and which emphasizes the status of Rumania’s ‘minorities’, including Russians, in Bessarabia) have caused a commotion in the Balkans.
‘I fully understand your claims to Bessarabia,’ said Subbotić (even though I hadn’t said a word about Bessarabia). ‘In essence, the Rumanians understand them as well and would probably be prepared to make concessions. But how is this to be done? If Rumania were to agree to return Bessarabia to you, Hungary would immediately raise the question of Transylvania, and Bulgaria that of Dobrudja. What would be left of Rumania then?’
Be that as it may, Subbotić ‘understands’ that Bessarabia should be returned ‘to the bosom’ of the USSR. The question is how to do it.
If it is done ‘quietly’, ‘calmly’ and ‘gradually’, no one in the Balkans will even wince. If we decide to resolve the question abruptly and hastily (Subbotić didn’t say it, but he was probably thinking about the ‘Finnish model’), major complications may arise. Italy will interfere and occupy Saloniki and certain points in Yugoslavia. The Germans, not to be outdone, will follow suit. Turkey will not be able to keep out of it. Britain and France will come to the aid of Italy and Turkey. In short, a large war involving all the great European powers will break out. The Balkan peoples will be the first to suffer…
Subbotić’s conclusion could be formulated as follows: ‘Take Bessarabia, but do it on the sly, so as not to trigger a war in the Balkans.’
I once again had to allay the ambassador’s anxiety. I explained to him that we pursue a policy of peace and that while we care a great deal about strengthening our security, we seek to avoid unnecessary complications.
The NKID press department issued a statement today saying that Stefanov’s article does not reflect the point of view of the Soviet government. Excellent!
12 December
The Red Army is advancing relatively slowly in Finland. The nature of the terrain, the climate, the season (short days, low cloud cover, lakes and marshes not yet properly frozen) – everything is against us. In such conditions, the mechanized forces of the Red Army cannot be fully effective. Moreover, the Karelian Isthmus is strongly fortified by the Finns, who have exploited the


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numerous rivers, lakes and marshes. All these difficulties will be overcome, of course, but for now what’s needed is patience…
The slow development of events in Finland is helping to fan a frenzied anti-Soviet campaign in Britain. The campaign began almost a fortnight ago, and there are no signs of it subsiding. If anything, the tension is growing.
The press is still raging, and the ‘left’ (Daily Herald and News Chronicle) turns out to be even worse than the ‘right’ (The Times, Daily Telegraph, etc.). All sorts of slanders, lies, and nonsense concerning the USSR are published under foot-long headlines on the front pages of the London papers. The press simply excels itself when it comes to ‘the bombing of women and children’ and ‘the use of gas’ by the Red Army. We have already issued official denials, but to no avail.
The radio and the cinema are no better. The other day I even had to submit a protest to the FO about the BBC repeating the slander about the use of gas (despite our refutation).
In parliament, a touching ‘united anti-Soviet front’ has been formed, ranging from right Conservatives to left Labour. Only the Labourites Pritt, Wedgwood and Neil Maclean, and the Liberal Richard Acland
Sir Richard Acland, Liberal MP, 1935–45; with J.B. Priestley founded the Common Wealth Party in 1942.
take a friendly stance. The rest of the Labourites and Liberals are experiencing different degrees of anti-Soviet fury. The National Labour Council published a pogrom-like manifesto against the USSR last week.
A most peculiar situation obtains in the institutions of the judiciary: there we now find ourselves systematically losing even those cases which seem to us incontestable.
The British government has clearly decided against shyness. Gloves off ! Otherwise, this whole frenzied campaign would be inconceivable. Halifax’s speech in the House of Lords on 5 December is very indicative in this respect. Similarly indicative is Butler’s belligerent activity in Geneva, where he supports the proposal to expel the USSR from the League of Nations. Equally interesting is the fact that the British government has decided to publish a ‘White Book’ on the summer negotiations in Moscow. The Foreign Office had until now been against publishing it, arguing on more than one occasion that ‘it could have an unfavourable effect on Anglo-Soviet relations’. Now this consideration has been dropped. One can easily imagine the content of this ‘White Book’! The British government will exploit the opportunity to justify its conduct during the talks and to accuse the USSR. Lies, slander, distortion – everything will be used for this purpose. Not blatant lies, in all probability, but (which is far more dangerous) a crafty mixture of truth and deceit. It would be a good idea


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for us to prepare our own ‘White Book’ for publication right after the British one. Otherwise the British version will circulate around the world without any resistance from our side.
What will happen next?
The League of Nations will take a decision any day now. The decision is likely to be ‘expulsion’. The response of the British government is hard to predict. One thing is clear: it will not give open armed support to Ryti and Co., but will help them politically and diplomatically and supply them with planes, arms, etc.
As for the anti-Soviet campaign, one thing is particularly striking. In the campaigns connected with events in Poland and then in the Baltic, the USSR was accused of ‘imperialism’. Now emphasis is placed on ‘world revolution’ and ‘communism’. The question ‘who is the No. 1 enemy? – Germany or the USSR?’ is the subject of heated discussion in governmental and political circles. The answers vary. No wonder London is abuzz with rumours about new attempts to test the ground for a deal with Hitler. Montagu Norman and Horace Wilson are mentioned in this connection.
The position taken up by the USA will play a major role, as it has always done. Chamberlain and Co. look to the States more than ever before.
However, in spite of the anti-Soviet frenzy dominating the social and political atmosphere in the country, there is no talk here (unlike in France) of severing diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union. The English are cleverer than the French. Moreover, they have already tried it once and do not wish to repeat the unfortunate experience. However, I cannot vouch for the more distant future. Anything may happen in time of war.
Superficially, we are treated here in a perfectly correct manner. But there is an icy emptiness around the embassy and the trade mission, as there always is in the days of large anti-Soviet campaigns. With a few exceptions, all our ‘friends’, both on the ‘right’ and on the ‘left’, dived for cover when the campaign was launched. Well, it’s not the first time. They’ll come back.
I’m an old bird, and this isn’t the first storm I’ve had to face. As soon as the events in Finland come to an end, it will blow over. The British are past masters at accepting the ‘fait accompli’.
14 December
Yesterday, the House of Commons held a closed session, the first in the course of the war. But since nothing is ever secret in this world, especially if the secret is known to 600 people, something of what was going on in the Commons has already leaked out.
The whole meeting was devoted to matters concerning supplies to the armed forces. No other subjects (including the USSR) were discussed. The


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debate was opened by Greenwood and Sinclair. Burgin, the minister of supply, responded. Attlee and Chamberlain closed the debate. In between, it was almost exclusively backbenchers who spoke. An incident occurred at the beginning of the meeting. Quentin Hogg (son of Lord Hailsham), a Conservative, asked whether a closed meeting of the Commons could be held in the presence of the king’s enemy, an obvious reference to Gallacher. Gallacher picked up the gauntlet and said that unlike some fascist-minded members of the Conservative Party (of which Hogg was one), he never concealed his true convictions, but was fully aware of the responsibilities that ensue for every MP from the fact of a session being held in camera. The vast majority of the audience greeted Gallacher’s pronouncement with full approval, and that was the end of the incident (I heard this not from Gallacher).
What of the debate itself?
Greenwood was very weak; he spoke mostly of boots for the army. Sinclair delivered the best speech of the session. Greenwood and Sinclair spoke for 45 minutes each. Attlee was lifeless; nor was Chamberlain at his best. The backbenchers touched upon various subjects. One group criticized the government for the shortage of clothes, boots, uniforms and so on, in the army. Another complained of defects in arms production, the scarcity of machine-guns, 25-pounders, etc. A third group stressed that machine-tools were the problem. A fourth pointed out that the mobilization of industry was fast leading to the liquidation of small and medium firms by large companies (exactly as Marx has it!). In submitting orders and assigning raw materials, manpower, etc., the controllers assigned by the Ministry of Supply to all branches of industry (they are usually big industrialists themselves in the relevant branch) always give preference to powerful concerns over their weaker competitors. As a result, medium and small firms go bust.
All those complaints and accusations were dealt with mostly by Burgin, who spoke for about an hour and a half. His defence was simple: the ‘programme’ of the ministry was being ‘fulfilled and over-fulfilled’ – what else do you want? Responding to almost Soviet-like heckles from the floor asking whether the programme did not aim too low and inquiring about the views of the army, Burgin made a casual lawyer’s gesture and replied: ‘Have you ever seen an army content with its supplies?’
In particular, Burgin rejected categorically Greenwood’s accusation that the army was short of boots.
On the whole, MPs were assured that although there were numerous difficulties and defects in military supplies, the apparatus was operating satisfactorily and military production was growing fast.
The atmosphere at the session was very ‘bellicose’, with Labour being especially keen to demonstrate its loyalty.


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15 December
Yesterday the League of Nations expelled the USSR from its ranks.
The session began on 9 December. The Council meeting was chaired by Count de Wiart
Count Henri Victor Carton de Wiart, Belgian prime minister, 1920–21; delegate to the League of Nations, 1928–35 and 1939.
of Belgium. Holsti’s complaint was heard and it was decided to submit the Finnish issue to the Assembly. The Assembly met on Monday 11th, with that same Holsti delivering a sharp philippic against the USSR in which he cited phrases from M.M. Litvinov’s earlier speeches in Geneva about Spain. There was virtually no debate in the Assembly. A committee of 13 members (of whom only four maintain diplomatic relations with the USSR) was elected to consider the issue. The committee cabled the USSR and Helsinki to propose that explanations be presented. Butler, who was representing Britain in Geneva this time, suggested that the two sides be given 24 hours to send in their replies. His proposal was accepted. Comrade Molotov responded, of course, by declining the LN’s proposal, referring to the reasons presented in his first telegram to the League of Nations (4 December). The committee of 13 then immediately passed a resolution condemning the USSR. The Assembly approved the resolution with ten abstentions. A new Council was elected at the same time. The Portuguese representative proposed a motion to the Assembly to expel the USSR. The proposal was passed on to the Council. The Council carried the expulsion by seven votes, with four abstentions.
Britain and France directed everything in Geneva. The USA backed them up by exerting pressure on the South Americans. A US representative attended the LN meetings as an ‘observer’. It is said that Paul-Boncour, who headed the French delegation in Geneva, was personally against the expulsion of the Soviet Union, but it was Daladier who took the decision. As for Butler, he was clearly unhappy with the role assigned to him, but he conscientiously pursued the Cabinet’s line. The result: Britain and France have played in Geneva the unenviable role of organizers of a new ‘anti-Comintern bloc’. I don’t think they will have any more luck in their enterprise than Germany. In the meantime, the sight of ‘Western democracies’ proudly marching at the head of such truly ‘progressive’ powers as Portugal, Colombia, Argentina, Egypt and others, against the USSR is capable of cleaning out the brains not only of those on the ‘left’. This can already be sensed, for instance, in Vernon Bartlett’s reports from Geneva.
Here in London, the response to the LN’s decision has so far been muted. Today’s papers pushed the expulsion of the USSR to the background. In The Times there is not even a leader on this topic. The Daily Telegraph and Daily Herald keep to the line of Chamberlain’s speech yesterday in parliament,


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namely, that Britain is at war with Germany and this should not be forgotten. The News Chronicle is full of doubts about the ‘wisdom’ of the decision, and the Manchester Guardian criticizes it directly. It is reported from Geneva that yesterday, after the decision was taken, Butler said to a group of journalists that Britain voted for expulsion in the LN because it was a matter of ‘principle’, but that relations between Britain and the USSR as individual states are quite another matter, and he does not expect any particular changes in this area. In reply to a question asked by one of the journalists, he added that the trade proposals Stanley made to me in October held good. It looks like the British government, after giving ‘principles’ their due in Geneva, is ready to do business in London.
So, it’s all over with the LN! No point crying about it! Perhaps this will even work out in our favour.
When I was leaving Geneva in May, I hoped I would never again have to honour the grand rooms of the Palais des Nations with my presence. Seems that my hope has been fulfilled. At any rate, never again will I have to deal with this League of Nations!
21 December
It seems that the acute anti-Soviet wave is abating somewhat. There are two main reasons:
(1) The firm and decisive stand of the Soviet government has made it absolutely clear to the British government that notwithstanding the clamour made by Mannerheim
Baron Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim, commander-in-chief of the Finnish army, 1939–40 and 1941–46; Finnish president, 1944–46.
and Co., the question of Finland is essentially closed. What does the British government, which is hardly in a position to ‘save’ Finland, have to gain by flailing around with its fists, thereby merely worsening still further its relations with the USSR? Of course, the British government will send arms, aeroplanes, etc. to Finland (albeit in limited quantities), but it is unlikely to wish to ratchet things up to breaking-point.
(2) The Geneva farce of an ‘anti-Comintern bloc’ has produced a strong impression on many leftists, and they are beginning to scratch their heads.
Moreover, newspapers cannot keep a ‘sensation’ going for three weeks. They need a new trick.
If nothing unexpected happens, the present wave will gradually subside. It would be a gross mistake, however, to imagine that Anglo-Soviet relations could return even to the level of October–November (a not very satisfactory level at that). On the contrary, my general impression leads me to the conclusion that if no new factors come into play in the nearest future (from the British side, our


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side, or both), we shall face a period of further deterioration in Anglo-Soviet relations, in which even a rupture is possible.
23 December
I went to see Cadogan in the Foreign Office today. Because of Christmas, the FO is practically deserted. Not a soul in the corridors and offices. Even the attendants are nowhere to be seen. Cadogan alone sits in his room ‘on duty’, but it is obvious that he has no desire whatsoever to attend to business. Nevertheless, I did manage to make him attend to one unpleasant matter.
On the 20th in the afternoon, at the Chancery Lane underground station, two police agents (having shown their badges) arrested Comrade Doshchenko,
Aleksei Aleksandrovich Doshchenko, member of the Soviet trade mission in Great Britain 1939; expelled from the country on charges of espionage activity.
director of the engineering department at the trade mission. The agents took Doshchenko by taxi to the trade mission, where a police car was waiting for them, and then drove in the police car to Doshchenko’s place. The agents searched his flat, without taking anything, and brought him to Scotland Yard. There he was subjected to a personal search, which also proved fruitless. Doshchenko was then moved to Brixton prison (where M.M. [Litvinov] was interned in 1918) and he is still there now. The police told Doshchenko that orders had come from the Home Office to expel him from England and that he would be kept in prison until then.
As soon as he learned about Doshchenko’s arrest, Korzh called Collier and demanded that Zonov
Vasilii Matveevich Zonov, head of the consular section at the Soviet mission in Great Britain, 1939–41; second secretary at the embassy, 1941–44.
(head of our consulate) be allowed to see Doshchenko. Permission was granted and Zonov visited Doshchenko in prison on 21 December. The conditions (the cell, the food, exercise, etc.) are good. Doshchenko’s wife has been permitted to visit him…
I demanded an explanation for Doshchenko’s arrest from Cadogan and insisted on his innocence. I also demanded that his case be reviewed. Cadogan said he did not know the details of the case, but he was certain that the Home Office could not expel Doshchenko without good reason. I then demanded that the incriminating materials be presented to me. Cadogan promised to contact the Home Office and inform me afterwards. I asked Cadogan to act promptly, emphasizing that Doshchenko was being kept in prison. Tonight I received a reply from Cadogan: a flat refusal. Cadogan informs me that he made inquiries in the Home Office and received confirmation that Doshchenko has engaged in activities that make him undesirable to His Majesty’s Government and that, unfortunately, he is not in a position to share further details with me.


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It is the first time an important colleague of ours has been arrested in the seven years of my ambassadorship in London. And it is also a sign of the deterioration in Anglo-Soviet relations about which I wrote a few days ago.
24 December
Although the acute anti-Soviet wave elicited by the events in Finland is gradually subsiding, the general curve of Anglo-Soviet relations is, to judge by all the information at my disposal, falling steeply.
The ‘general line’ followed by the British government since the outbreak of war has been to ‘neutralize’ the USSR in order to facilitate the struggle against Germany. The British government’s reasoning was simple: better one enemy than two. That is why I heard so many statements in October and November about the desire ‘to improve relations’, culminating in Stanley’s trade proposals.
Now the situation is changing. The British government has practically given up any hope of ‘improving relations’ (the lack of a reply to Stanley’s proposals played a major role here) and is looking for a new direction on the ‘Russian question’. Now a ‘French concept’ (ascribed to Daladier and Gamelin) has emerged, which assumes that it would be dangerous for the Allies to tolerate a situation in which the Soviet Union remained neutral till the end of the war. For this would mean that when the major European capitalist powers have exhausted their resources, the USSR alone would have fresh forces and an intact army. What would then become of Europe and the capitalist system? (By the way, I remember hearing in the spring from someone in Geneva that the Turks, who were insisting at the time to France that a tripartite mutual assistance pact was essential, subscribe to a similar notion.) The USSR, therefore, must be drawn into the war – on the side of the Allies if possible, or on the side of Germany if this is inevitable. The main thing is to ‘bleed’ the USSR. To support their concept, the French adduce various additional arguments: the war in the west has turned out to be easier than expected; the Red Army, to judge by the Finnish experience, is less formidable than was assumed; and therefore Britain and France could cope with two enemies, all the more so as the USA would definitely render extensive aid in this case, or even enter the war.
Until recently all those French arguments were met with scepticism in London. Now a clear shift can be observed. A majority in government still adheres to the old concept of ‘neutrality’, but some ministers have begun speaking in the spirit of the French thesis. The more so as it seems that the British government recently received assurances from Washington that the USA would probably enter the war on the side of Britain and France, should the Soviet Union join Germany.


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The severance of diplomatic relations between Britain and France on the one hand and the USSR on the other is seen as the first step in drawing the USSR into the war. And then who knows? Perhaps it will be possible to switch the war and attack the USSR through a united capitalist bloc, including Germany.
Strange rumours are afloat in this connection about the ‘White Book’ on the summer talks in Moscow, which the British government is preparing and which should appear in early January. It’s said that the advocates of ‘neutralizing [the Soviet Union]’ want to word it in such a way as not to eliminate the possibility of maintaining relations at their present level or even improving them in future. The advocates of the French thesis, on the contrary, want to edit the ‘White Book’ in such a way as to guarantee after its publication either a clear severance of relations or, at the very least, the recalling of ambassadors.
At the same time, strange news is arriving from the USSR. The consular department of the British embassy in Moscow has summoned a British representative of an Anglo-American company from Leningrad and suggested that he leave the USSR as soon as possible. The US embassy has advised its citizens in the USSR to leave the USSR before 1 January. It is known that the consular section of the British embassy in Moscow has already made preparations for evacuation via Rumania.
It’s obvious that some kind of anti-Soviet brew is currently being cooked up in London, Paris and Washington. Will it come to the boil? Will it lead to the rupture of diplomatic relations or at least to the recalling of ambassadors?
Time will tell.
[Maisky tried to put on a brave face. He lightly dismissed as ‘absurd’ the expulsion of the Soviet Union from the League of Nations. He did not, however, fool Beatrice Webb, who gathered from his English chauffeur ‘that the Ambassador did not even go to his Club – Diplomats Club – in St James Street’. The Maiskys were clearly being ostracized by foes and former friends alike. Cut off from news from Moscow, as he complained in a private letter to Litvinov, Maisky feared that Britain and France ‘had become definitely hostile to the USSR and were planning a peace with a defeated Germany and then an anti-communist alliance!’ He could only console himself with the thought that the defeat of Germany would spark a revolution there, and that Moscow would be forced to intervene if the West tried to crush it by force.
Webb, diary, 1 & 19 Dec. 1939, pp. 6781 & 6790–2; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 l.70, Maisky to Litvinov, 14 Dec. 1939. See a letter by Agniya Maisky to Pritt, reproduced in his The Autobiography of D.N. Pritt (London, 1965), pp. 213–14.
The mask slipped, though, at Christmas, when rumours started circulating of a breakdown in relations and of his recall. He was little encouraged by a rather acrimonious exchange of telegrams with Molotov. Maisky’s distress is discernible in his desperate attempts to persuade Molotov that his continued stay in London was indispensable to prevent the outbreak of hostilities.
He persevered with his distinctive modus operandi of attributing his own ideas to his interlocutors. On his way to visit Lloyd George on Christmas Eve, Maisky had stopped for tea with the Webbs (who assumed that this was ‘a farewell visit’). He told them that he regarded the state of Anglo-Soviet relations as ‘serious’, and that he expected the publication of a White Book on the 1939 negotiations.
See diary entry for 5 January 1940.
It would expose Molotov’s


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duplicity in carrying on military talks with the British, while secretly arranging for the pact with Ribbentrop (and would also expose Maisky’s own ploys). This was bound to lead to the severance of relations between the countries and to the granting of assistance to the Finns in their war against Russia. In his telegram to Molotov following dinner at Lloyd George’s, Maisky conveyed at length the advice of the trustworthy politician to bring the war in Finland to a swift end, echoing almost verbatim his own exposé to the Webbs a couple of hours earlier.
DVP, 1939, XXII/2, doc. 890; Webb, diary, 24 December, pp. 6794–6. See also Carley, 1939, pp. 239–40. On British policy towards Russia, see Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission to Moscow, pp. 15–24.
]
25 December
Agniya and I had a proper Christmas Eve yesterday! Straight out of a fairy tale. Yet it was also thoroughly saturated with contemporary reality.
We left London at 3 p.m. to visit the Webbs and then Lloyd George – their country houses are not far apart.
The city was under a blanket of dense fog, and our driver White shook his head sceptically when I decided on travelling all the same. The fog outside the city was even thicker. We could barely see two feet ahead of us. We drove slowly, anxiously, hooting all the time. We got lost three times and were forced to drive a fair distance back. We were enveloped in a milky mist, through which our car sailed like some fairy-tale ship on some fairy-tale sea. The fog thinned as we approached the Webbs’ place. The visibility improved and we could drive faster, but then we suddenly had to turn off onto a side road: the main road was closed off because of an accident involving some military lorries that had been travelling ahead of us.
It was gone five when we reached the old couple. The long delay had alarmed them and they were even thinking of making inquiries about us at the embassy. As always, we sat down by the blazing fire in their cosy, book-lined drawing room, and began to talk. About what? About the war, of course, about prospects for the future and about Anglo-Soviet relations.
The Webbs are in a pessimistic mood. They think we underestimate the capitalist forces, which will cost us dearly. Finland is an illustration of this state of affairs. The Webbs understand and even share the motives that made the USSR take a stand against Mannerheim and Co., but they ask: was it wise at this time to exacerbate the conflict to this extent? They believe that what is happening in Finland is the collision of two systems, socialist and capitalist, albeit, for now, merely in a limited area. That is why Finland has immediately become a focal point for all the world’s reactionary forces. Was it profitable for the Soviet Union to trigger such a conflict at this precise moment?
We argued at length and I tried to prove to the Webbs that it’s not always possible to choose the time and conditions for an action which, of itself, is entirely necessary. Sometimes one has to strike in a less favourable situation


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than might be desired. But that’s the way it goes. My arguments seemed to shake the Webbs a little, without, I believe, convincing them.
But Finland, from their point of view, is not the only example, nor the most significant. Far more serious are the potential developments in the European theatre of war. If proletarian revolution and civil war break out in Germany, the capitalist governments of Britain and France will certainly come to the aid of the German counter-revolution.
‘Will they be able to do it?’ I asked. ‘Will the “upper ten thousand” in Britain and in France manage to lead their armies, which consist after all of workers and peasants, against a proletarian government in Germany?’
The Webbs are convinced they will. Particularly if the German revolutionary government seeks the help of the Red Army. It won’t, of course, be possible to pitch the entire Anglo-French army against the German revolution, but a considerable force could be found for this purpose. It would be difficult to keep even this force in a revolutionary climate for a long time, but it would prove useful for a certain period in suppressing the revolution. Moreover, all German officers would be on the side of the counter-revolution, and this could not but have a negative effect on the combat efficiency of the proletarian legions. On the whole, the Webbs take a grim view of the prospects for a German revolution (even if one assumes our support). Revolution in Britain or even in France, if they are not defeated in the war, is out of the question.
We argued again for some time, but the Webbs stuck to their guns, charging us, Soviet communists, with the accusation that in our ideas and calculations der Wunsch ist der Vater des Gedankens.
How do the Webbs themselves see the future?
In an utterly gloomy light. The war will drag on. Europe will be ruined and impoverished. England will enter a period of decline. She will lose a considerable part of her Empire. She will be corroded from within by the two severe diseases of modern capitalism: unemployment and falling birth-rates. The ruling classes will not be able to cope with these illnesses. But nor will the proletariat, headed by Labour-party types, demonstrate the ability and revolutionary energy sufficient to rebuild decaying bourgeois society from top to bottom. The long epoch of Britain’s decline, decay and dying will follow: its transformation from a world empire to a second-rate power, as happened to Spain and Holland. The Webbs refuse to hazard a guess as to how the international situation may change during and after the war, claiming not to be ‘experts’ in this sphere.
I listened to the old couple (Beatrice did most of the speaking, while her husband merely made the odd comment or expressed his assent) and couldn’t help thinking that they were actually the mouthpiece of capitalism, which, though old, enfeebled and decaying, is, unfortunately, still far from powerless. I felt that these people, who have devoted their lives to the cause of socialism and


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have recognized in their old age that ‘Soviet communism is the new civilization’ destined to replace the capitalist one, themselves adhere to the bedrock of that very capitalism, whether consciously, half-consciously, or even subconsciously. For I had the strong impression that they feared revolution and the inevitable temporary dislocation of their entire, habitual existence – in England, yes, in England, and not in some distant land…
Continuing our debate, we moved to the dining-room for tea with the ‘jam’ and biscuits I have come to know so well. The Webbs are very concerned about the state of relations between the USSR and Britain. They criticized the government and expressed their fear of a possible rupture of diplomatic relations. This distressed them greatly.
On leaving, I told them half in jest: ‘If I happen not to visit your home again, please remember that I spent the best hours of my stay in England here.’
This is true. For the Webbs, despite everything, are the most interesting, the most pleasant and the dearest (in so far as this word is appropriate in this case) of all the people I have met during my ambassadorship in Great Britain…
We are in the car once again. The sky has cleared up. The stars are shining brightly. The fields and trees are covered with thick, white hoar-frost. Magical silvered branches bend down over both sides of the road. The remnants of the recent mist hide, as if ashamed, in groves and copses. The moon comes out, and the whole scene takes on the features of a fairy-tale. Christmas Eve once more! The heart fills with childhood images and reminiscences!…
And here, at long last, is Churt, Lloyd George’s country estate. We enter the house, take off our coats and are ushered into the warm drawing room. The host meets us at the door. Lloyd George looks wonderful: a fresh haircut, eyes shining like a young man’s, bright snow-white hair framing an animated, clever and almost cheerful face. Such handsome old age! Lloyd George, after all, is nearly 77.
Lloyd George’s son Gwilym and his wife are also in the room. Gwilym went down with a stomach ulcer last month and he looks very wan and faded.
Cocktails. Radio. Small talk at the fireplace. Dinner.
Lloyd George and I are in constant conversation. To be more exact, he speaks and I ask him occasional questions, explain, even argue and object. The old man sparkles and shines like a precious diamond.
‘The war?’ he exclaims. ‘I expect that in spring, most likely in March, the Germans will try to land us a heavy blow via Belgium. I see no other route for an offensive. If Hitler doesn’t do this, then it’s clear that the war on the western front will assume the character of more or less permanent stalemate. Real war will be waged only at sea and partly in the air, and to an even greater extent in the economic sphere. It will be a war of attrition. Who will win? It’s difficult to say. Germany was defeated mostly by hunger in the war of 1914–1918. Today,


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Germany is better prepared for war. First, Hitler has stored up big reserves of food for the war (which the kaiser did not have). Second, he has the Soviet and Balkan markets at his disposal. The fate of Germany in this war is in the hands of the Soviet Union. Everything depends on the size of the aid – economic, raw material, food, etc. – which Hitler will be able to get from you. If you set about supporting him in earnest, the war may last five or six years.’
I started objecting and stated that one could hardly imagine so long a war. But the old man wouldn’t agree.
‘Where peace can come from,’ he exclaimed, ‘I fail to see. Military sentiments in Britain are now profound and serious. Don’t cultivate any illusions on that score. Peace is impossible without restoring Poland and giving at least partial autonomy to Czechoslovakia. Britain committed itself too far. You know my attitude to the Polish guarantee. From the very beginning I considered it madness without a prior agreement with you. Pitt
William Pitt the Younger, British prime minister, 1783–1801.
refused to give such a guarantee at the end of the eighteenth century. He understood that Britain was not in a position to send a single battalion to help Poland in case of need. But Chamberlain is not Pitt. That’s why he made the Polish guarantee. Let me repeat: it was madness! But Chamberlain’s madness has tied Britain and now we can’t retreat, although I myself think that Hitler’s ultimatum to Poland (the 16 points of 31 August) was an acceptable basis for negotiations. What’s more, Winston confessed to me not long ago that he thinks the same. This is all in the past, however. Today, peace without the restoration of Poland is impossible. Will Hitler agree to it? I don’t think so. And who could act as mediator? Roosevelt? Stalin? Mussolini? The pope?… Unlikely. Anyway, the position of each of them is such that they could hardly mediate successfully on their own, and on the other hand it is difficult to conceive a sufficiently weighty combination emerging from their midst. No, I don’t believe in an early peace, and certainly not while Hitler rules Germany. I also don’t believe, unlike some people here in Britain, that the United States may take part in the war. No, the overwhelming mood in the USA today is isolationism and a reluctance to meddle in European quarrels and fights.’
Lloyd George sighed, made a gesture with his pince-nez as only he can do, and suddenly drew an unexpected conclusion: ‘I think that the current war is capitalism’s last great struggle for survival.’
I asked whether the British masses understood that.
Lloyd George replied: ‘I don’t think so. At any rate, the greater part of those we call the man in the street do not understand it. A doctor I have known since 1914 visited me the other day. I asked him what he thought would be the outcome of this war. The doctor shrugged his shoulders and said: “…in the


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end we will win. I don’t know how, but somehow we will win.” This answer is deeply typical. Such is the conviction of the masses. Why? Because the English have never before been beaten in a big war. They have, of course, had isolated failures, defeats and losses in the course of their history. They’ve sent their armies to the continent and sometimes not seen them return. Yet the English have never been completely beaten in a big war. Disaster has never come to the gates of their capital city. Their main base has always remained impregnable. Which means that single defeats have never had a fateful significance. They did not turn into a national catastrophe. And, in the end, the English would emerge victorious. So it was in the wars with the Spaniards, the Dutch, the French, Napoleon and the kaiser. This sense of invincibility has entered the flesh and blood of the people. An average Englishman just cannot imagine that his country might have suffered the same fate as France in 1871 or Germany in 1918. It’s not by chance that the English have such expressions as “somehow we will muddle through” or “we will blunder through”. No other language uses such expressions. Every Englishman – from worker to lord – is imbued with this spontaneous-subconscious feeling, which is a potent weapon against any anti-war sentiments.’
Our conversation naturally turned to Finland and Anglo-Soviet relations. Lloyd George questioned me closely about the progress of military operations, the climate, terrain and other aspects of the Finnish theatre of war, and then drew his conclusions.
‘If I were you,’ he says, ‘I would conclude the Finnish operations as quickly as possible. I fully understand your motives and objectives. No doubt the USSR has good grounds to take possession of bases, islands, etc. on Finnish territory. But the issue has outgrown these comparatively narrow bounds. On the limited territory of Finland, the clash of two worlds – yours and that of capitalism – is currently under way. In Finland you are facing not only the Finns, but all the other representatives of the capitalist world as well. Every further week of delay in the settlement of the conflict is fraught with the danger of new international complications, the appearance of new “supporters” and new “volunteers”, and new attempts at setting up the united anti-communist bloc that failed to materialize in 1918–19. These circumstances should not be underestimated. I remember that at the beginning of the last war Cambon,
Pierre Paul Cambon, French diplomat; ambassador to Great Britain, 1898–1920.
the French ambassador in London at the time, implored us to send at least one squadron to France “to raise morale”. Cambon was a clever man and understood that if you sent a squadron, a division would soon follow. This is exactly what happened. At first we sent six divisions to the continent and thought we would keep to that level till the end of the war. But what actually happened? We had 70 divisions


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in France at the end of the war! The same will happen now in Finland. First Sweden will send 2,000 “volunteers”, then the army will follow. Other countries will do the same. Please allow me, an old fellow who knows a few things about international and military affairs, to give you a piece of advice: conclude the operations in Finland as fast as possible, but without resorting to the methods used by the Germans in Poland, as that would only complicate your situation.’
I protested against Lloyd George’s suggestion that we might be using ‘German methods’ of conducting a war. The old man grinned and added, in an accommodating spirit: ‘Don’t be angry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just know from my own experience that war is war. And the present war is the last big war of the capitalist system for its survival.’
I asked Lloyd George what he thought about the prospects for Anglo-Soviet relations.
‘The entire recent behaviour of the British government – its campaign in the press, activity at the League of Nations, and aid to Finland – should logically lead to the severance of relations. I consider this an insane policy and a highly dangerous one for Britain. To provoke the Soviet Union to war (the severance of relations could easily turn out to be a stage on the path to war) would mean the birth of the greatest global catastrophe. For in this case war would not be confined to Europe, but would extend to Asia. It would sweep up India, where the communists are the second force after Gandhi. Imbecilic scribblers are screaming in the papers about the failure of the Red Army in Finland. Downright nonsense! The Soviet Union is a great power. Maybe it is slow to act, maybe it makes mistakes – any great power can afford to make mistakes – but once the USSR gains momentum, it will become something powerful and colossal, akin to the movement of glaciers. In which direction will these “glaciers” drift? Towards warm shores, of course. Those warm shores of which we have plenty and which are far from easy to defend. That is why I consider the British government’s policy towards the USSR insane… But then, hasn’t this government already done many other things no less insane?’
Lloyd George gave a sardonic grin and added: ‘I was talking about this with Winston the other day. He agrees with me. In general, it’s hard to spot any sharp anti-Soviet prejudice in him as yet. But Winston is up to his eyes in naval affairs; he enjoys his job very much and devotes little attention to major politics. It’s a pity. Chamberlain, Simon, Halifax and Hoare often meet as a foursome, to discuss and decide issues which really ought to be decided on by the War Cabinet as a whole.’
Lloyd George waved his pince-nez around again and continued: ‘There is no doubt that not only in France, but also in our governmental circles there are provocateurs who seek the severance of relations with the USSR. But they are still in the minority in Britain. If you don’t play into their hands, the situation can still be saved. I think the Soviet government’s response to the decision of the League of Nations was very wise. To tell the truth, I had feared the worst. You should continue in the same vein. Don’t display nervousness or a hot temper with regard to the forthcoming publication of the “White Book”, which contains some digs in your direction. Don’t harp on the issue of Anglo-French aid to Finland, considering, among other things, that the actual size of the aid will hardly be great. In general, remain calm and collected. And, above all, get these Finnish operations over with as soon as possible! That’s the main thing. A rupture in relations can still be avoided.’
We toasted the incoming year, wishing for 1940 to be better than its predecessor, then returned to the drawing-room. We listened to the radio, laughed at the famous Lord Haw-Haw
Lord Haw-Haw was the nickname of William Joyce, German radio’s infamous English radio broadcaster.
(the English announcer on German radio) who, according to Lloyd George, has of late been all but propagating ‘communist propaganda’. We set off home after ten…
And there she was again, Christmas night! Bright stars, the moon, trees in silver, wreaths of mist, the long road, and the light shadows of half-forgotten childhood images and visions bound up with the magic words: Christmas Eve.
P.S. A few more ‘morsels’ from my conversation with Lloyd George.
Labour? They are simply Chamberlain’s errand-boys. All socialists are like that. I remember meeting German social democrats in 1909. I was preparing a workers’ national insurance bill at the time and went to Berlin to study how the workers’ insurance system operated in the ‘classic country’ of national insurance. Bethmann-Hollweg,
Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg, German secretary of state for home affairs, 1907–09; chancellor of the German Empire, 1909–17.
who was then chancellor (‘a second-rate man’), received me cordially. I was offered every opportunity to study the subject. When I had finished seeing ministers, functionaries and all sorts of other officials, I asked Bethmann-Hollweg to let me talk to the leaders of social democracy as well. Bethmann-Hollweg willingly agreed (he knew his social democrats very well!). Our meeting shocked me to the core. I had heard much about German social democrats in England and imagined them as ardent revolutionaries with wide horizons, racing pulses and the most radical plans for social transformation. And whom did I find? Philistines, the most narrow-minded, respectable philistines! They uttered not a word about socialism, revolution or the decisive struggle to abolish the capitalist system! But they were positively passionate, even ecstatic, about a wage rise of 1 mark or the reorganization of the national insurance reserve fund. I, a liberal, was much more to the left, much more radical than they. I was deeply disappointed…But then, with the passage of time and long experience, I have come to the firm conclusion that socialists are like that the world over. Such is their nature. To fight, to fight in earnest – this they cannot do. Communists are different. They are made of different stuff. Communists can fight – they sometimes lose, but they also know how to win…
‘When I was first appointed minister, one intelligent man told me: “Never forget that there, at the top, friendship does not exist.” How right he was! How profoundly right he was! Later, I would learn this for myself.’
31 December
In view of the current situation, we cancelled the New Year’s celebrations for the whole colony in the embassy. We decided to greet the New Year individually or in groups at home. Agniya and I did so as if we were in Moscow, at nine o’clock London time. Then we dropped in for a moment at the L.s’ [unidentified] upstairs, where a small group of embassy personnel were celebrating with their wives, singing and dancing. After that we drove around the city to see how the English were seeing in the New Year. The streets were shrouded in the usual black-out gloom. The pavements were white with snow: the week has been uncommonly cold and snowy for England. There were people in the streets, but immeasurably fewer than in former years. At Piccadilly, where huge, noisy crowds, singing and dancing, always flood the square on New Year’s Eve, there were now only a few sparse, silent groups. At St Paul’s Cathedral, where there is always a sea of human beings, shouting, laughing and dancing, there was nobody to be found. It was the same all over. Only Whitechapel was noisier, but perhaps that was due to the character of the locals.
War! Its deadly breath has frozen the New Year celebrations of 1940.
Now, back at home, I sit and ponder: what does tomorrow have in store?
A reference to Lensky’s famous verses in Pushkin’s Evgenii Onegin.
What will 1940 bring us? What indeed?
It’s hard to guess. But I expect nothing good, whether in general or personal terms.
I recall past New Year’s Eves, the first of each decade.
I saw in 1900 at home in Omsk, while still a schoolboy. I was nearly 16. I wrote verses, suffered from Weltschmerz, and was making my first shy steps toward revolutionary political consciousness. On the threshold of the new century I was reading Byron’s Cain, which I thought to be the greatest literary work of the nineteenth century. A whole life lay in front of me.
I saw in 1910 in Munich, in emigration, already a conscious revolutionary, with some experience to my credit: exile, prison and underground activity. A small group of émigré comrades gathered in the artistic-bohemian Simplicissimus café of Kathi Kobus, who was very well known in Munich at the time.
I saw in 1920 in Mongolia at A.V. Burdukov’s outpost, together with his family and the members of my expedition carrying out an economic survey of Mongolia.
I saw in 1930 as ambassador in Helsinki and celebrated the New Year together with the whole Soviet colony.
And here I am, seeing in the year 1940 in London, in circumstances of war and ‘black out’, entirely uncertain of the near future – not only of my personal future (what would that matter?), but of the future of Europe and all mankind.
And what does tomorrow have in store? And how many New Years am I still destined to celebrate?
Where and how will I greet the year 1950? That’s still conceivable, but the question arises of itself: will I make it?
And 1960? I don’t know. Will I make it? And is it worth living till then?
At any rate, one thing is clear: if a sudden revolution doesn’t happen in medicine, two decades is the utmost I can count on. The greater part of my life is behind me. Even in the best scenario, only a short period lies ahead. But as yet I have no fear of death, nor sharp regret for the fact that three quarters of my life have already passed.


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1940
2 January
A visit from Guo Taiqi, whom I hadn’t seen for nearly a month. He’s been in Geneva as a sort of semi-official Chinese delegate to the League of Nations Assembly (at any rate, I couldn’t find his name in the official list of delegates).
Guo’s Geneva impressions contain one point of interest: the major role played by the United States in the expulsion of the Soviet Union. The USA staged the whole comedy with the South American republics and encouraged France every way it could. Bullitt
William Christian Bullitt, first US ambassador to the USSR, 1933–36; ambassador to France, 1936–40.
made a special démarche in Paris, after which Daladier called Paul-Boncour (head of the French delegation in Geneva) four times, insisting that extreme measures be taken against the Soviet Union. Paul-Boncour himself was against expulsion. According to Guo, the British took a more passive stance, and Butler initially spoke against expulsion. However, once he had learned of the position taken by the USA, he decided ‘not to object’. Or perhaps the British, with their customary dexterity, merely did a better job of simulating passivity?
Guo preferred to keep his counsel about the conduct of China in Geneva, but assured me most emphatically of the strength of China’s friendship with the USSR.
But this is all in the past. Today, Guo is concerned by the intensified talk in British political circles about the formation of two large, opposing blocs:
(1) ‘totalitarian and continental’ – Germany, USSR and Japan.
(2) ‘democratic and maritime’ – England, France and the USA.
Guo dislikes this talk very much and asked me anxiously what I thought about it. I did my best to reassure him.
3 January
The curve of Anglo-Soviet relations continues to drop.
The ‘White Book’ about the summer negotiations in Moscow is to be published in a fortnight or less. Rumours keep circulating that it will be prepared


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in such a way (unless something unexpected happens at the last moment) that it will inevitably result in the severance of diplomatic relations between the two countries, or at least the mutual recall of ambassadors.
The Daily Worker raised the alarm back on 27 December, giving the first warning about the danger of a break in relations. On the same day, the Foreign Office refuted the newspaper’s report through Reuters and interviews with foreign correspondents.
Nevertheless, yesterday, 2 January, Seeds left Moscow ‘on leave’. Before his departure, he visited C[omrades] Potemkin and Molotov for discussions about the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. He was given to understand that the Soviet government harboured no hostile intentions towards England, but was resolutely determined to eliminate the danger to Leningrad presented by hostile, bourgeois Finland. It was also pointed out to Seeds that Britain was continuing to pursue a line hostile to the USSR, in particular in the League of Nations and on the Finnish issue. Seeds asked the Soviet government to make a gesture to signify our desire to maintain normal relations with England, tacitly threatening their further deterioration should such a gesture not be made. Seeds’ request was not satisfied, but he nonetheless expressed the hope that Halifax, with whom he was planning to talk in London, would be able to ‘come up with something’. Seeds’ departure merely confirms the rumours that the publication of the ‘White Book’ will preclude his continued presence in Moscow. The same rumours say that my stay in London will also become very precarious after the appearance of the Book, although I confess that it is not entirely clear to me how this might happen. Time will tell.
Today’s newspapers report that Naggiar, the French ambassador in Moscow, is also soon to depart on ‘extended leave’. The Italian ambassador in Moscow Rosso
Augusto Rosso, Italian ambassador in Moscow, 1936–40.
has also received instructions from his government to go ‘on leave’: this is clearly a response to the recall of our new ambassador in Rome, C[omrade] Gorelkin,
Nikolai Vasilevich Gorelkin, head of the western department of NKID, 1939; Soviet ambassador in Italy, 1939–41.
who, on the eve of the presentation of his credentials, was called back to Moscow in protest against the anti-Soviet demonstrations in front of the embassy about the events in Finland.
So, three great powers are recalling their ambassadors from Moscow. This is no coincidence. It is part of the plan presented by Daladier at the last meeting of the Inter-Allied Supreme War Council on 19 December. Daladier argued that the ‘Allies’ should sever diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union. Chamberlain objected, saying this was still ‘premature’ and that in any case it would be more advantageous for the break to occur at the initiative of the USSR. It was eventually decided to pursue a wait-and-see policy and to use


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various means to provoke Moscow to sever relations: by lending assistance to Finland, by recalling ambassadors, by publishing the ‘White Book’, and so on. It’s possible that poor Doshchenko is also a cog in this general plan.
[A cutting from the Yorkshire Post, 2 January 1940, is attached to the diary.]
4 January
On New Year’s Eve, Beaverbrook unexpectedly called me to extend his good wishes, and yesterday Agniya and I went to his place for lunch. There were only three of us, so the conversation was quite frank.
Beaverbrook, who has told me before that he sees no sense in the current war, is now most interested in the prospects for peace. He questioned me long and hard about my thoughts on the war, the situation in Germany, Soviet intentions, etc. and then set about expounding his ideas.
Beaverbrook is currently enthused by the Vatican’s reconciliation with the Quirinale (the pope’s visit to the Italian king,
King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy, 1900–46.
etc.), which, he believes, should greatly raise the prestige of the Italian government everywhere, especially in the United States, through the influence of the Catholic Church. Beaverbrook draws the following conclusions: Mussolini is still perched on the fence, but he already has one leg in the ‘Allies’’ camp as a result of the reconciliation. And yet, he has not broken with Hitler. Therefore, given Italy’s growing international prestige, Rome may become a good channel by which to probe the prospects for peace. The main question is whether Hitler is willing to agree to the conditions which the British government and British public opinion might deem acceptable. Beaverbrook does not have a clear answer to this.
What is the alignment of forces in the British ruling circles? The ‘big four’ (Chamberlain, Simon, Hoare and Halifax) are ready to conclude peace without crushing Germany, if an acceptable basis is found. Churchill, who relies on the Labour–Liberal sector and certain Conservative circles, believes that, before discussing peace, Germany must be crushed.
What are the prospects? Beaverbrook believes that if Hitler were to agree to the minimal acceptable conditions, including Poland and Czechoslovakia – conditions, in other words, which could be presented to the nation as a fulfilment, albeit not absolute, of the ‘war aims’ – the ‘big four’ would immediately conclude a peace. Should Hitler not agree, Churchill will triumph and the war will continue.
Beaverbrook told me that in France and in some British circles the following conclusion is being reached with increasing frequency: since a ‘stalemate’ has


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occurred on the western front, a more ‘mobile’ front should be sought to end the war as soon as possible. Previously, before the events in Finland, it was assumed that this second front would be in the Balkans. Now, thoughts have turned to Scandinavia. I asked Beaverbrook: what position would England take should Scandinavia be drawn into the war? Beaverbrook answered without hesitation: ‘We would most certainly fight for Scandinavia, especially for Norway.’
Beaverbrook is extremely worried about Anglo-Soviet relations. He himself is definitely against a rupture, and certainly against waging war with the USSR. He thinks therefore that the British can ‘applaud Finnish bravery’, but should not send arms and ammunition to Finland. Unfortunately, there are notable elements among the general public and in government who favour meddling in Finnish affairs, even at the risk of provoking the USSR to break off relations. Beaverbrook is anxiously awaiting the outcome of the debate on ‘the Russian question’ in the US Congress. If the USA severs diplomatic relations with the USSR, the British advocates of a ‘resolute policy’ on the Finnish question will gain the upper hand. But Beaverbrook hopes that the USA will not go so far. He is also consoled by Churchill’s support for a ‘cautious’ line regarding the Soviet Union. This is important because Churchill’s influence at the present time is great. As a result, Beaverbrook has not yet lost hope that a rupture in Anglo-Soviet relations may still be avoided, but he deems the situation dangerous.
[Beaverbrook’s attitude was an exception. Maisky had become a pariah in London. He found most doors bolted, while his invitations were politely turned down. Formerly a frequent visitor, Harold Nicolson steered clear of the embassy: ‘Spending the Christmas holidays here and trying to get through a little work.’ Samuel Hoare excused himself, explaining that, since the outbreak of war, the Cabinet was sitting so late that he ‘reluctantly had to adopt the practice of not lunching out at all’, while Cadogan was ‘engaged for lunch on Thursday. As regards Friday – having been on duty here all through the Christmas “holiday”, I had arranged to go away on that day for 10 days or so.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1495 l.4 d.1657 l.10 & d.1363 l.3, 5 and 8 Jan. 1940.
Bilainkin, the journalist for whom the doors of the embassy were always open, noted in his diary ‘the deep lines’ under Maisky’s eyes ‘when the clamour rose’ for a declaration of war against the Soviet Union: ‘As I walked away, along the icy cold and ice-covered “Millionaires’ Row”, I thought of its principal tenant, who had so eagerly striven for success in his mission, had nearly won it in the middle of last year, and then watched triumph being taken from his grasp.’
Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, 7 Feb. 1940, pp. 9, 21.
Maisky barely recovered his social standing after the conclusion of the Winter War. As late as May, an invitation for Eden and his wife to come to lunch at the embassy ‘quite privately’ drew the lukewarm response ‘I will, if I may, let you know later about my wife as she is away in the country at present.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 l.13 & d.1357 l.10, 3 and 6 May 1940.
Dalton likewise describes in his diary a luncheon he attended on his own at the embassy, as his wife ‘would sooner be found dead than in [Maisky’s] Embassy’. He was greeted by MADBme Maisky, ‘advancing upon me with rather too red lips, says she is so sorry that my wife is in the country. She adds, rather malapropos, “So many people’s wives seem to be in the country just now.” I say,


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“Yes, it is such beautiful weather isn’t it.”’
See for instance a sample of letters from Nicolson, Gwilym Lloyd George and Vernon Bartlett in RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1495 l.5 d.993 l.1 & d.1225 l.5, 12 and 29 March 1940; Pimlott, Political Diary of Hugh Dalton, 15 March 1940, pp. 321–2.
Relations with the court fared no better. ‘The King and Queen at a B.P. [Buckingham Palace] dinner,’ Maisky told the Webbs, ‘had been markedly rude to them; in spite of the fact that MADBme Maisky was “doyenne” the Queen had not spoken to her after dinner … On retiring the King and Queen had passed by Maiskys, without recognition.’
Webb, diary, 12 April 1940, p. 6863.
]
5 January
A remarkable incident happened today.
Strang dropped in unexpectedly. I hadn’t seen him for a long time, since early August, when he had just got back from his unsuccessful visit to Moscow.
I asked him to sit down and offered him a Russian cigarette. Strang took a deep drag before declaring that he had come ‘on the instructions of Lord Halifax, but in a private capacity’. In mid-January the ‘Blue Book’, devoted to the Moscow negotiations on the pact, is to be published (it turns out to be a ‘Blue’, not a ‘White’ Book, the difference being that the ‘White Book’, which has no dust-cover, is usually smaller than the ‘Blue Book’, which does have one). This Book will contain, among other materials, records of a few conversations which Halifax once had with me. As a point of courtesy and on a private basis, Halifax would like to offer me the opportunity to acquaint myself with the passages that relate to me before the Book is published, should any corrections be required. After all, records of conversations are made after the fact, and one can never be entirely sure of their accuracy. Having said this, Strang took the proofs from his pocket (a sizable parcel) and pushed them towards me, suggesting that he was prepared to leave them for me to peruse and correct as required.
I confess that I was sorely tempted to take the Book into my hands at once. But I immediately checked myself, for the thought suddenly flashed across my mind that ‘honourable’ Halifax had laid a trap for me. For indeed, had I accepted his ‘courteous’ suggestion and kept the Book even till tomorrow, this would have given him the opportunity in future to assert that the Soviet government had been informed of the contents of the Book before its publication and that its text had been at least partially agreed upon. In this way, the Soviet government’s hands would have been tied in respect of the Book. This had to be prevented at all costs.
So I replied to Strang in the politest of tones that I was grateful to Halifax for his courtesy, but that unfortunately I could not take advantage of it. The publication of the Blue Book had not been agreed with the Soviet government. The latter had not even been informed of the decision to publish the Book. The Book was therefore solely the work of the British government, which was fully responsible for its every line. The Soviet government had nothing to do with the Book. In these circumstances I felt I was unable either to correct the


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records of my conversations in the Book or even to acquaint myself with its contents prior to publication. Least of all did I want to respond with rudeness to the foreign minister’s courtesy, but I hoped he would understand the reasons for my refusal.
And, without a glance at the proofs of the Blue Book, I pushed them nonchalantly back to Strang.
Strang was clearly nonplussed, but assured me that he quite ‘understood’ me and would convey my exact words to Halifax, who would, of course, also ‘understand’ everything. Then, returning the proofs of the Book to his pocket, Strang added: ‘Lord Halifax thought it his moral duty to make you this offer… Now he may consider his conscience to be clean.’
That’s Halifax to a tee! Pritt once told me that, according to Butler, Halifax used to say to the latter at the beginning of each working day: ‘Mind, Butler, we mustn’t sacrifice a single principle today!’
And, having sent up this ‘prayer’ to God and put his soul at ease, Halifax would apply himself to the next intrigue being cooked up in the dirty kitchen of British foreign policy.
They are dangerous, these men of God! Halifax has now made two cynical attempts to deceive me: the first on 31 March, in connection with last year’s guarantee to Poland, and the second today. He has failed, but I must be vigilant!
Strang also declared during our conversation today that the British government was not planning to break off diplomatic relations with the USSR (‘provided, of course, that the Soviet government does not intend to do this’, he added rather pointedly) and that Seeds was indeed taking the two months’ leave due to him for rest and medical treatment.
7 January
The political atmosphere is abuzz: Hore-Belisha has been ‘pushed’. Two days ago Chamberlain summoned the war minister and offered him a new ministerial portfolio – the Board of Trade. Hore-Belisha refused. The PM then rather rudely showed him the door.
What’s this all about?
The gist of the matter is as follows.
When Hore-Belisha was appointed war minister in 1937, he invited two ‘advisers’ to help him: Lord Gort, who was made chief of the imperial general staff, and Liddell-Hart. The triumvirate directed the war office for about a year, and much useful work was done. In particular, progress was made in the mechanization and democratization of the army (NCOs were admitted to the officer corps, soldiers were permitted to eat in the same canteens as officers, etc.). The generals were also rejuvenated (men aged 65–75 were removed).


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However, as Liddell-Hart told me back in 1938, Hore-Belisha did not dare go all the way with his reforms and stopped at half-measures. Of particular significance was the fact that, having removed the ‘old men’, Belisha [sic] failed to take the ‘middle-aged’ generals (55–65) down from their commanding heights and replace them with ‘youth’ (40–55), as Liddell-Hart had insisted. ‘Teasing the geese’ too much, Belisha feared, would damage his career.
Belisha’s indecisiveness would come to haunt him. First, it set him against Liddell-Hart, who resigned his post as adviser right before the Munich Conference. As a result, Belisha was left alone in the ministry with Gort. Second, it spoiled Gort. The latter arrived in the ministry as a ‘radical’ and reformer, and initially he was true to his colours. But once he sensed his position to be fairly secure, and the influence of the conservative ‘middle-aged’ generals to be fairly stable, he began to change his bearings. He made common cause with the generals, who were particularly unhappy with the democratization of the army and the rejuvenation of the top brass, against Belisha. In the meantime, having learnt about the discord between Belisha and Liddell-Hart, Gort began to scheme against the latter and hastened his resignation. A struggle between Belisha and Gort continued on and off until the beginning of the war. In September, Belisha managed to shake off Gort by sending him to France as commander-in-chief. Gort was peeved with Belisha and waited for a convenient moment to take his revenge. An opportunity soon presented itself. At the end of last year, a group of dominion ministers, headed by Eden, visited the front in France. Some of the ministers, who remembered how fortifications were prepared in the last war, found the present fortifications in the British section of the front to be insufficiently solid. Their impression was quite mistaken: the current fortifications are state of the art, but they look rather different from those of 1914–18 because of the changes in armaments. It was Gort’s duty to enlighten the ministers, but he did not do so. Quite the opposite: he did his utmost to cast a shadow on the war minister. The dominion ministers returned to London and started complaining at every opportunity about imaginary faults in the front-line fortifications and about Hore-Belisha himself. The latter wrote a sharp letter to Gort. Soon afterwards, Chamberlain visited the front line, and Gort told him bluntly that the army command could not work with Belisha. The PM reported the matter to the king, who dislikes Belisha for being a parvenu and a Jew. As a result, the war minister was forced to resign.
It’s a pity. Belisha is a clever man and, most importantly, he is against a break with the Soviet Union.
Although the press is up in arms, I don’t think that the storm will last very long or have any dangerous consequences for the government. The ‘cream’ of the ruling elite is entirely against Belisha – a plebeian and a Jew – while Belisha


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is a careerist and he won’t want to ruin his future for good. They’ll come to an arrangement somehow.
8 January
Although I politely refused Strang’s offer to acquaint myself with the text of the ‘Blue Book’, I came to learn of its contents all the same.
The book comprises 95 separate documents, which fill some 150 pages. There is also an introduction, which summarizes the contents of the documents and the general course of the negotiations about the pact.
Sixty-nine documents are telegrams exchanged between Halifax and Seeds. These mainly cover the history of the negotiations, Seeds’ conversations with C[omrade] Molotov, Halifax’s talks with me, amendments and counter-amendments to the drafts of the pact, assessments of the situation, the impressions of the foreign secretary and of the British ambassador in Moscow, etc.
Twelve documents are speeches in parliament on the course of the negotiations, by Chamberlain (9), Halifax (2) and Simon (1).
Then there are three versions of the text of the pact, instructions given to Strang on his departure to Moscow, and a memorandum, dated 12 December, summing up the military negotiations in Moscow. For some reason, there are no authentic documents relating to these negotiations in the Book (if one can speak of ‘authenticity’ at all in this case). Also included is the LN [League of Nations] resolution of 14 December on the expulsion of the USSR.
As far as documents of Soviet origin are concerned, the Book contains a quotation from C[omrade] Stalin’s address to the 18th Party Congress, C[omrade] Molotov’s speech in the Supreme Soviet on 31 May, C[omrade] Zhdanov’s article in Pravda on 29 June, and the texts of Soviet treaties with Germany (23 August) and Estonia, with a comment on the latter mentioning that similar treaties were concluded with Latvia and Lithuania.
The structure of the Blue Book is as follows: it opens with a quotation from C[omrade] Stalin’s address to the 18th Party Congress, stating that one of the principles of Soviet foreign policy is to help victims of aggression who are struggling for independence. This is followed by the entire history of the negotiations in documents, the break, the USSR’s pacts with Germany and Estonia, etc. The Book concludes with the LN’s resolution to expel the USSR for its act of aggression against Finland.
It seems that the object of the British government’s selection and arrangement of the materials was to create the impression that the summer negotiations collapsed owing to the USSR’s ‘duplicity’. This is illustrated in two ways: (1) the Soviet government held parallel negotiations throughout the summer with the


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British and the French on the one hand, and with the Germans on the other, without really wishing to conclude an agreement with the British and French, but merely manoeuvring so as to lay the blame for the break on the ‘Allies’; (2) declaring through C[omrade] Stalin its duty to assist victims of aggression, the Soviet government was itself occupied solely with thoughts of aggression and eventually committed it in Finland. The reader of the Book is therefore meant to draw the conclusion that the Soviet Union is in essence a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ and that the British government was very wise to avoid concluding a pact with such a dangerous partner.
The division of roles between C[omrade] Molotov and me during the negotiations is given as further evidence of Soviet ‘duplicity’. In Moscow C[omrade] Molotov was stubbornly sabotaging any progress in negotiations by piling one obstacle on another. Meanwhile I in London was weakening the vigilance of the British government, using nice words to assure its members of the USSR’s desire to maintain friendship with Britain, and praising British moves and proposals. And so it went on until the very moment the talks were broken off.
There is no doubt that the materials in the Blue Book have been heavily ‘edited’. I have evidence to prove this: there is, for example, no record in the Book of my conversation with Halifax of 12 June, when I hinted to him that a visit by him to Moscow would be highly desirable; second, no more than a quarter of my conversation with him of 23 June is included in the Book.
Let us wait until 15 January, when the Book is to go on sale. That is still a week ahead, and the Book may well be ‘re-edited’ in such a way that only odds and ends will remain of the present version. All the more so as the French are said to be dissatisfied with the British text, finding it too ‘vegetarian’.
[The White Book contained 150 pages of documents conveying the official British version of the 1939 triple negotiations. Its publication would surely have exposed Maisky’s autonomous initiatives (by revealing discrepancies between his and Halifax’s records of the meetings), and his disagreements with Molotov. This was particularly true of the thread running through the long, analytical introduction by the distinguished All Souls’ scholar Llewellyn Woodward, who had been entrusted with the editorial work. He particularly dwelt on Maisky’s assurance to Cadogan at the end of March that the guarantees to Poland ‘would be a revolutionary change in British policy’ and ‘would increase enormously the confidence of other countries’. Maisky feared that the appearance of the White Book would lead to his recall. Indeed, Seeds had been advised by Cadogan on 22 December 1939 to return home in anticipation of the publication, which might make his continued stay in Moscow ‘difficult for a time at least!’
Quoted in Aster, ‘Sir William Seeds’, p. 145.
Rumours concerning Maisky’s own recall were rife, as Mikhail Korzh, who replaced Kagan as counsellor at the embassy, complained. Someone had noticed, for instance, that vans were loading up what turned out to be large quantities of art exhibits (detained in England since the outbreak of war and now being shipped to Moscow from Liverpool) and jumped to the conclusion that the shipment included the ambassador’s personal


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effects. Maisky, who rarely lost his composure, now seemed despondent. Bilainkin, engaged in writing the ambassador’s biography, did not fail to notice that his request for a further interview was met with a nervous response: ‘Three weeks these days is a long time … Who knows?’
Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, 16 Jan. and 1 March 1940, pp. 18 and 33, and ‘Mr Maisky sees it through’, p. 264.
When Maisky told the Webbs about the incident, he seemed certain that publication would lead to a breach in relations, strongly advocated by the French government. ‘The Soviet Embassy in Paris,’ he complained, ‘was surrounded with secret service men; every member of the staff or person coming or leaving the Soviet Embassy, except the Ambassador himself, was stopped and questioned by the Paris police.’
Webb, diary, 29 Jan. 1940, p. 6814.
It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Maisky remained obsessive about the incriminating document. He was, however, saved by the bell. The idea of publishing a White Book invited opposition from the outset, as it exposed not only what was assumed to be Russian treachery, but also the reluctance of Chamberlain to reach an agreement and the conflicting French and British positions. On 6 March, Chamberlain announced in parliament that publication of the White Book was to be dropped.
DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, pp. 53–6; TNA FO 418/86 C3564/23/18; see also Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, 16 Jan. 1940, p. 18.
In due course, Maisky succeeded in obtaining a microfilm of the scrapped book, from ‘friends of the USSR’, most likely through intelligence channels (thereby exceeding his own authority), which he concealed from his superiors. After his return to Moscow, he hid the microfilm (‘a small box, the size of a match box’ in his own words) in his flat. Indeed, the KGB, overwhelmed by the 80 large bags of documents they collected, failed to spot the microfilm during their search of the flat after his arrest in 1953. He then revealed its existence, of his own free will, most likely fearing that sooner or later it would be recovered and would implicate him even further. The episode was the main reason for his indictment in his trial in 1955. Seeking a full rehabilitation, Maisky went on to make the dubious claim that it was a mere case of negligence and a ‘slip’ of his memory.
The draft White Book, which would have become a Blue Book once published, is in TNA Cab/67/4/7. The text has been published since, with a contextual introduction, by S. Aster and T. Coates, Dealing with Josef Stalin: The Moscow White Book, 1939 (London, 2009). On the complex nature of the selection and its eventual incorporation in Woodward and Butler, Documents on British Foreign Policy, see the fascinating article by U. Bialer, ‘Telling the truth to the people: Britain’s decision to publish the diplomatic papers of the inter-war period’, The Historical Journal, 26/2 (1983). On the microfilm episode, see Maisky’s letter to the president of the Supreme Military Court, 7 May 1956, and to Khrushchev, 14 July 1960, RAN, f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.24–8 & op.4 d.275 ll.43–4, respectively.
]
11 January
Scandinavia is on the agenda.
Scandinavia undoubtedly played a very negative role in the period before the Finnish war. She does the same today. Scandinavia, and Sweden in particular, is not merely pursuing a frenzied anti-Soviet campaign, she is also supplying Finland with arms, ammunition, money and ‘volunteers’, whose numbers seem to have already reached the size of an entire division.
Scandinavia is now at the centre of true international bedlam.
First, in view of the ‘stalemate’ on the western front, some influential circles in England and especially in France are looking for a second, more ‘mobile’ front and find it in Scandinavia. Other, even more influential circles (including most of the British government) fear that Germany itself will seize the initiative and attack Denmark and Sweden in order to secure Swedish ore for itself once and for all. As a result, a week or so ago the British government offered the Swedish government a guarantee against Germany. The Swedish government has not accepted the British guarantee so far, fearing to ‘provoke’ Hitler, but it


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is confident that Britain will unconditionally come to its aid in the event of a serious threat to Sweden, whatever its source. Those seeking a ‘mobile’ front would welcome a German march against Scandinavia, as it would enable them to use Swedish and Norwegian territory immediately for military operations.
Second, Germany is doing its utmost to scare Scandinavia, above all Sweden. In particular, a week or so ago the German press threatened Sweden with all manner of disasters were she to assist Finland. The German envoy or counsellor in Stockholm even warned Sweden, albeit in a fairly mild form, that Berlin would consider Swedish consent to the transit of arms and matériel from the Western countries to Finland as a violation of Sweden’s neutrality, with all the ensuing consequences. That transit, however, still continues, and Germany still does nothing. Looks like Germany is toying with Sweden.
Third, the Soviet Union has made it unequivocally clear that it absolutely objects to the aid supplied by Sweden and Norway to Finland. On 5 January our envoys in Stockholm and Oslo even submitted strong notes of protest, to which the Swedes and Norwegians replied yesterday, 10 January, in a rather impudent tone. The TASS communication acknowledges these responses to be ‘not entirely satisfactory’. It remains rather unclear what conclusions will be drawn from this appraisal.
The Scandinavians themselves are torn by two conflicting feelings: on the one hand, they want to help Finland; on the other, they are afraid of being drawn into a war, whether with Germany or with the USSR. In this difficult situation, the Scandinavians try to help themselves with various intricate theories and comparisons. Prytz, for one, has been developing the following theory.
Finland should be treated in the same way as Spain was once treated. There were two governments in Spain – the Republican government in Barcelona and Franco’s in Burgos – which were waging a civil war. There are two governments in Finland today, in Helsinki and in Terijoki, and they are waging a civil war. The Soviet Union recognized as ‘lawful’ the Spanish Republican government elected in 1936, and supplied it with arms, ammunition and so on. Germany and Italy recognized as ‘lawful’ the Franco government, which nobody elected, and supported it in every way. Sweden and other countries recognize as ‘lawful’ and support the Finnish government in Helsinki, which was elected in 1939, while the Soviet Union recognizes and supports the government which nobody elected. During the Spanish Civil War the USSR on the one side and Germany and Italy on the other maintained ‘normal’ diplomatic relations, which were only occasionally interrupted by periods of tension, even though they were conducting a covert war against each other on Spanish territory. With the conclusion of events in Spain, this element of conflict in their relations disappeared. It is desirable that the same should happen now in connection with the Finnish events. Each country has the right to support the Finnish


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government which it likes best, but there is no sense being offended with one another. It would be better to turn a blind eye to what is happening, since the course of the war will put paid to this present controversy one way or another. I don’t know whether this ‘philosophy’ can help the Scandinavians.
Will the British render serious assistance to the Finns?
I doubt it. Of course, they will do something and send something to Finland, but not much. Not only because they are in need themselves, but also and to a greater extent because the British government nurtures no illusions about the final outcome of the struggle and does not wish to supply the Red Army through its feckless stooges, as occurred in the era of the Civil War and intervention.
Establishing a ‘mobile’ front in Scandinavia is a different matter. It is now thought of as an anti-German front. I don’t doubt, however, that the British government or, to be more precise, those elements in the British government that share this notion, always keep in mind the possibility of using a Scandinavian front against the USSR as well. For many, very many people in England nurture a deep suspicion, even conviction, that we have a secret military pact with Germany or, if this alliance does not yet formally exist, that it will do very soon.
And, although the USSR is not tied to Germany by either a military or a political alliance, it is very difficult to persuade people otherwise.
14 January
These last two days I have had interesting conversations with Guo Taiqi and Aras.
Guo Taiqi told me about his recent visit to Halifax (a week or so ago). They talked on various subjects, but Anglo-Soviet relations were the central issue. Halifax told Guo Taiqi that he was against the further deterioration of Anglo-Soviet relations, especially their severance on British initiative, and that he had not lost hope of their possible improvement in the future. In Halifax’s view, the world was large enough to allow for the peaceful coexistence of the British Empire and the USSR. The complications that had occurred in relations between the two countries over the last five months contained much that was invented and artificial. Were the two governments to be on speaking terms, many mutual suspicions and grievances could be easily dispelled and settled. The conflict over Finland is the focus of attention at present. Yes, the British government deeply regrets that the USSR attacked Finland. The British government lends assistance to Finland in the light of the LN’s resolution and in response to British public opinion, but the significance of this episode should not be exaggerated. Finland is a temporary and to large extent incidental conflict in Anglo-Soviet relations. As soon as the Finnish war is terminated, this conflict will


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also be terminated. For Halifax does not believe that the Soviet Union is planning conquests in respect of Sweden or Norway (though he does believe that Germany has such plans). Such actions would mean a clash with Germany, and also with England, France and perhaps the United States. The Soviet Union will not risk it, especially after its experience in Finland. Halifax also does not believe that friendship between Germany and the USSR will prove long-lasting: there are serious points of conflict between the two countries (Scandinavia and the Balkans). The Soviet government, moreover, will not want to play forever with just the German card in its hand. Considering all this, Halifax thinks that Anglo-Soviet relations can not only be preserved, but even, under certain conditions, improved. This is why he would like to keep all avenues open. But of course, it’s a different matter if the Soviet government thinks otherwise and plans to bring relations with England to breaking-point. The British government will accept severance of relations as a fact and draw the appropriate practical conclusions. But Halifax would regret such a course of events.
If Guo Taiqi has related Halifax’s words correctly, all this is very significant. But has Guo Taiqi been faithful to the truth? I’m afraid there is much subjectivity in his account for, as he told me, China wishes above all to avoid a situation where it would have to choose between the USSR and Western democracies.


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Aras also had a talk recently with Halifax about Anglo-Soviet relations. Halifax told him that he did not desire a worsening of Anglo-Soviet relations and did not intend to break them off, but was prepared for the fact that the Soviet Union might decide to break off relations on its own initiative.
Aras’s forecast for the war is as follows. Germany has three alternatives: (1) to attack France through Holland and Belgium in spring; (2) to attack the Balkans and possibly even capture the Straits; and (3) to wage a long war of attrition. Aras thinks that the last alternative is the most probable and that by properly exploiting the resources of the USSR and South-East Europe, Germany could hold out against England and France for many years. But in this case there is also a much better chance of an early peace through mediation, in which, he hopes, Turkey will participate, together with Mussolini and Roosevelt. In our previous talks, Aras named the USSR among possible mediators, but did not do so this time. In his view, a serious ‘peace offensive’ can be expected this spring or autumn.
Aras is just back from Paris. He wanted to see his ‘old friend’ Surits
Surits had been the Soviet ambassador in Turkey before taking up the Paris position.
there and invited the Turkish ambassador [Aktai
Haydar Aktai, Turkish ambassador to Moscow, 1940–43.
] in Paris to come along. The latter, however, was terrified by Aras’s invitation. He said that a visit by two Turkish ambassadors to the Soviet ambassador would be regarded by the French as a ‘demonstration’ and that, as a result, the windows of the Turkish embassy would be shattered. I think that Aras’s heart must have sunk as well, as he did not go to see Surits even on his own, although he assured me that he would visit him next time ‘without fail’. True heroes!
What a terrible situation the Soviet embassy in France finds itself in!
15 January
Saw Liddell-Hart.
He has left The Times, where he was a war correspondent for two years. There was a difference of opinions, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. In fact, it’s rather strange that L-H could work for this paper at all. L-H is now freelance, lives at Elmhirst’s in Dartington Hall and writes a bit. He suffered a breakdown in the summer from working too hard, and has still not fully recovered.
We talked about the war. L-H considers it absolutely ‘pointless’, not only from a general political perspective, but also from a purely military one. Indeed.
The stalemate on the western front is a brilliant confirmation of L-H’s theory about the relative supremacy of the means of defence over the means of offence in contemporary warfare. The Germans will not even be able to


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force their way through Holland and Belgium. First, these two countries are capable of mounting strong resistance (especially Belgium). Second, England and France will interfere at once if need be. Given Germany’s links with the USSR and the Balkans, a blockade cannot be especially effective. British and German air strength is virtually equal (the Germans have more planes, while the British machines are of better quality and have unlimited supplies of petrol at their disposal) – so neither side will be able to gain a serious advantage in the skies. Consequently, nothing will be resolved in the near future. In these circumstances, it would seem that an early peace would be the sole reasonable solution, but… governments are rarely dictated by reason and logic. They never think problems through properly or approach them scientifically, and that is why L-H is very pessimistic about the future.
I asked him what he thought about the chances for a ‘second front’, perhaps in Scandinavia. L-H is sceptical: the military and political obstacles are too great. But, of course, anything may happen in the course of a war.
18 January
There is reliable information that the Germans are preparing great quantities of a special gas, calcium arsenide, which can’t be seen or smelled. It can be spread by shells or bombs or even simply scattered like powder. It is extremely noxious. Ordinary protective masks are useless against it. People are poisoned unawares and die in terrible agony within 24 hours. It is thought that the Germans may use ‘arsenide gas’ during their spring offensive (possibly this is the ‘secret weapon’ of which Hitler spoke a few months ago). In any case, the British general staff is expecting this offensive.
What a terrible thing! This is how human genius is expended! When will the social system that permits such things be done away with at last?!
19 January
Another year further down the road: today I turned 56.
A year ago to this day, when I was outlining a ‘plan’ for the remainder of my life, I reckoned that a new imperialist war in Europe would break out within a decade at the most and that after that there would be enough socialist construction in this part of the world to keep me busy till the end of my days. Reality has confirmed my forecast earlier than I could have expected: the imperialist war in Europe broke out less than eight months after I wrote those lines. Well, so much the better. Since the war was clearly inevitable, better that it happen sooner rather than later. I will see more of the epoch of socialist construction in Europe (if, of course, I am fated to live).


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One more consideration in this regard. The more powerful technology becomes, the more damage a modern war will cause. That is why a war in 1939 is preferable to a war in 1949.
20 January
Czech sources report:
(1) The Czechoslovak National Committee has been formed. Beneš is its president (the French government has had to retract its objections against him). The committee has been recognized by England and France. On that basis, it receives some funds belonging to the former Czechoslovak state. The Czech army in France already numbers 10,000. It is expected to be increased to two divisions.
(2) Beneš is in a fairly difficult position. His policy up to now has been to steer a course between the British and the French on the one side and the Soviet government on the other. Now, with the Soviet Union having recognized Slovakia and Fierlinger
Zdeněk Fierlinger, Czechoslovakian minister to the Soviet Union, 1939–45.
having been deprived of his official status in Moscow, this task has become a great deal more difficult. Beneš is afraid of being ‘eaten up’ by Britain and France, with the result that the mistakes of 1914–1918 may be repeated. That is why Beneš’s mood at present is rather pessimistic.
(3) Germany’s current policy is aimed at bringing relations between the USSR and Western democracies to breaking-point. Finland is the means to achieve that. The German government wants to prolong the Finnish war, in the hope of causing a definitive split between the USSR and Western democracies. That is why the German government is not inclined to object to the neutral countries (Sweden, Norway and Italy) lending their support to Mannerheim and Co., and will not prevent them sending arms and volunteers to Finland. The transit of Italian arms to Finland via Germany was effectively agreed between Rome and Berlin. The Germans merely warned the Italians that should this be disclosed, they would have to undertake measures ‘to soothe the Russians’. The German government also turns a blind eye to the transit of weapons from Western countries via Scandinavia. What the German government cannot permit is the dispatch of Anglo-French troops via Sweden and Norway, as this could be dangerous for the Germans themselves. Should London and Paris try to follow such a course, Germany would interfere and exploit the opportunity to establish its dominance in Scandinavia (including control over Swedish ore).
(4) In the Balkans, Germany is resisting the formation of a Balkan bloc, as well as the consolidation of British, French and Turkish military positions. This is being done, in particular, by encouraging revisionism in Hungary and


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Bulgaria. Germany has now massed 43 divisions in Austria, Czechoslovakia and southern Poland. Evidently, she is prepared to threaten or even fight Rumania, through Hungary.
All this is rather interesting and has the ring of truth. Naturally, however, one needs to make allowances for the nature of the source.
21 January
I’ve been receiving information in the last few days that a dispute has emerged in Labour circles concerning Finland and the Soviet Union. There was a long and confusing debate on this matter at the meeting of the Executive Committee of Parliamentary Labour on 16 January. In the end, no decision was taken. The general mood among the members of the Executive Committee was that the Finnish conflict should be settled by ‘mediation’. What kind of mediation? On whose behalf? Opinions varied. Some wished the Labour Party to assume the role of ‘mediator’, while others thought that the party should put the question before the British government. Attlee said that a few days before the meeting he had, on his own initiative, raised the subject of ‘mediation’ with Chamberlain, who had responded with sympathy to his proposals. The members of the Executive Committee showed interest in their leader’s communication, but the matter was taken no further. What was quite clear was that all those present were frightened by the prospect of war between England and the USSR.
At about the same time Jordan, high commissioner for New Zealand in London, informed me through a third party that if the Soviet government desired ‘mediation’ in the Finnish conflict, he was prepared to offer his services. He understood that the USSR could not accept the ‘mediation’ of a major imperialist power, such as England or the United States, but hoped that it might accept the ‘mediation’ of small non-imperialist New Zealand, which is ruled by a socialist government. Jordan reminded me of his friendly relations with Soviet representatives in Geneva, where his plebeian openness and backing of the Soviet delegation have indeed upset the British apple-cart on more than one occasion. Naturally, I had to explain to Jordan, through the same third party, the full inappropriateness of his proposal.
Today, meanwhile, Lord Strabolgi arrived unexpectedly, in sports clothes, straight from the skating rink. After emphasizing that he was acting in a private capacity, Lord Strabolgi (formerly Kenworthy) first began asking whether the Soviet government might wish to invite a trade union–Labour delegation like the one which had left for Helsinki on 19 January at the invitation of Finnish trade unions and cooperatives (Citrine, Noel-Baker and Downie
John Downie, Scottish representative of the cooperative movement.
)? Labour


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would like to be entirely ‘impartial’ and hear out both sides. I expressed my astonishment at his suggestion and made it clear to him that there were no chances whatsoever that it might be accepted.
The Labour delegation to Finland was headed by Citrine. They visited the front and met Marshal Mannerheim. After their return, Halifax was struck by their belligerent mood ‘full of the admirable morale of the Finns … complete contempt for the Russians’ and convinced that the Finns ‘would hold their own’. Attlee and Greenwood, on the other hand, strongly argued with him against a declaration of war; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.3, 9 Feb. 1940, and TNA FO 800/281, pp. 369–72, Halifax to Chamberlain, 10 Feb. 1940.
Strabolgi changed the subject and set about impressing on me that the British government wants to maintain good relations with the USSR, that Finland alone stands in the way, that the Soviet–Finnish conflict could be settled by ‘mediation’, and that if the matter in question is the replacement of the government in Finland, this too could be discussed, although such a move would, of course, be fairly problematic. I had to disappoint Strabolgi once more and declare quite frankly that it made no sense to speak of ‘mediation’ in the Soviet–Finnish conflict.
Who stands behind Strabolgi and Jordan?
First and foremost, of course, the Labour Party, but not only. Some hints dropped by Strabolgi suggested that his visit to me had the blessing of the Foreign Office. No wonder! At this very moment, when the situation on the Finnish front is not in our favour, the British government would like to kill two birds with one stone: to reinforce the ‘blow to the prestige of the Red Army’ and gain a reputation as ‘peace-maker’.
As for Jordan, I’m not sure there is anyone behind him. He is a very unusual and original man. A former London policeman, he emigrated to New Zealand many years ago, joined Labour there, made a career for himself, and four years ago, when the Labour government came to power in this dominion, came to London as high commissioner. Jordan, as one would expect of a policeman, is tall, strong and rough-mannered. He looks like a bear and has a gruff voice and red hair. Politically, he is very primitive and direct. He doesn’t understand diplomacy and always likes to shoot straight from the hip. He could easily have thought up this scheme all by himself.
23 January
Here is the sensation of the day:
[Attached is the front page of the News Chronicle of 23 January 1940 carrying an article entitled: ‘Maisky Is Going Back to Moscow’.]
And our response:
[Attached is the front page of Evening Standard of 23 January 1940 carrying an article entitled ‘M. Maisky Denial. The Soviet Embassy to-day denied to the Evening Standard a report that M. Maisky, the Soviet Ambassador, will shortly return to Moscow’.]


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25 January
The further we go, the greater the problems.
At first the British government reacted to the Finnish events with a frenzied press and radio campaign, as well as active participation in the expulsion of the USSR from the League of Nations. Next it supplied Mannerheim with weapons and aeroplanes. Now it is ready to send a ‘volunteer’ corps to Finland, on the Spanish model, supplying a justification for this à la Prytz.
Here are the details. Mannerheim is demanding 40,000 trained volunteers to hold the front. He does not expect all 40,000 to be British, of course, but Great Britain should send its share. It is expected that the British government will send not Brits but Canadians. To start with, they are more accustomed to the Finnish climate. Second, this is more convenient and legal from the political point of view, since there is no conscription in Canada, making it easier to pull off the ‘volunteers’ trick. It goes without saying that there will be a certain number of Brits among the Canadians. Not for nothing are skiers and men commanding Scandinavian languages being urgently sought in the mobilization effort. France will also send ‘volunteers’. The British government would also very much like to recruit some from the USA, but it’s hard to say if it will achieve this. But nothing is impossible here. Roosevelt has already let it be known that ‘there is no war in Finland’ and therefore American subjects would not be forbidden from fighting for Mannerheim. The British plan is to mass a sufficient quantity of ‘volunteers’ by spring.
The situation is becoming more and more complicated.
***
It transpires that the News Chronicle, in printing a report about my departure (23 January), fell victim to the machinations of those elements desperate to achieve a severance of relations between the ‘Allies’ and the USSR. It is they who furnished ‘information’ about my recall.
26 January
About a month ago (24 December) I established in my diary the state of Anglo-Soviet relations at the time. Today, I can summarize the processes that have unfolded since then. There’s nothing to celebrate!
The general curve of Anglo-Soviet relations continues its downward path. If, in the language of statistics, we take the state of Soviet–British relations last May and June to be 100, the figure for October and November would be 50, the end of December 40, and barely 30 today. Two facts supply the best evidence


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for this: Churchill’s speech over the radio on 20 January and Chamberlain’s reply to Knox’s
Sir Alfred Knox, major general, British military attaché in Petrograd during the First World War, where he witnessed the revolution; Conservative MP, 1924–45.
inquiry about the severance of Anglo-Soviet relations on 24 January. True, once Churchill’s speech had been received unfavourably in neutral countries, the British government hastened to dissociate itself from the speaker, saying that Churchill had merely expressed a personal opinion; but this is sheer knavery. I know perfectly well that most of the Cabinet members share Churchill’s views.
In brief, the situation is as follows. At the end of December, two tendencies could be discerned in government circles:
(1) The old one (which dated from the very first days of the war) aimed for the isolation of Germany, neutralization of the Soviet Union, and localization of the war, and was considered the shortest and cheapest route to victory. Hence the policy ‘not to antagonize Russia’; indeed, rapprochement with Russia would be even better.
(2) The new tendency (which raised its head only at the beginning of the Finnish war) did not believe in the possibility of neutralizing the USSR, considered the USSR to be a covert ally of Germany, with the potential of becoming an open ally at any moment, and called for an extension of military operations and the drawing into the war of as many neutral countries as possible, regardless of the risk of a clean break or even armed conflict with the USSR.
A month ago the old trend clearly dominated in government circles; the new one was represented by a modest minority. Churchill, for one, adhered to the old tendency. Today the situation is different: the old trend has weakened and the new one has been strengthened. It is difficult to say for sure whether the latter has won over the majority in government as there are many yes-men in the Cabinet. One thing is beyond doubt: the new trend may become the prevailing one at any given moment. This is demonstrated in particular by the fact that Churchill now espouses the new tendency. Chamberlain has not yet stated his definitive position, he manoeuvres and waits, but his reply of 24 January shows that he does not exclude the possibility of an Anglo-Soviet split. The British government’s intention to send a corps of ‘volunteers’ to Finland also shows how far these processes have gone.
How to explain all this?
It all boils down to the fact that at the beginning of the current year one thing became completely clear to the British government: with the present alignment of forces (the British and French empires on the one side, and Germany, which has access to Soviet, Balkan and Scandinavian resources and can use Italy as a channel for imports, on the other) the ‘Allies’ stand a slim chance


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of an early victory and a good chance of a protracted, gruelling war with a doubtful military outcome and the probability of revolutionary reverberations in Europe. The gruelling nature of the war is already making itself felt. War expenses amount to 6 million pounds a day and will certainly increase. Since their chances of concluding an advantageous peace are negligible, the ‘Allies’ have no way out other than by radically changing the alignment of forces in their favour by drawing as many neutral countries as possible onto their side in the war, particularly Sweden (ore), Rumania (oil) and Italy (transit). Moreover, the expansion of the war sphere promises to open a number of the ‘mobile’ fronts which are so keenly desired by the British and French general staffs. In view of these circumstances, I do not doubt that, although the British government has found it necessary to disassociate itself from Churchill, the question of involving neutrals in the war will be repeatedly entered in the agenda in the course of the war.
In this connection, the matter of Finland acquires special significance for British ruling circles. By helping Mannerheim, they hope to kill two birds with one stone. First, they hope to raise the spirits of the small neutral countries (the ‘Allies’ do not leave them to the mercy of fate in their hour of need!) and thus draw them into the war more easily. Second, they hope to prolong the war in Finland, weaken the USSR, tie us hand and foot in the north and thus reduce our freedom of manoeuvre in other directions, and, finally, deprive the Germans of the possibility of getting raw materials, food and so on, from the USSR.
This plan is particularly attractive to the British government for two other reasons. First, having convinced themselves of the ‘weakness’ of the Red Army, the British ministers think they will need relatively modest forces and means to carry out their plans. Second, since left and right are in agreement on the question of ‘aid to Finland’, there is no danger of splitting the ‘united national front’ which is so important to the British government. A touching display of unanimity: royalty – Bourbon, Liechtenstein, and others – joining the Mannerheim army along with the socialists. Attlee and Citrine are hoarse from advocating aid to Finland, the queen donates 50 shirts to the Finns, and the princesses knit warm clothes for ‘Finnish children’. An affecting picture! All are suddenly reconciled when the fight against the ‘blood-thirsty’ Bolsheviks is on the agenda!…
But it is still too early to say whether the British government will succeed in realizing its plan, and to what extent. Any number of obstacles could get in the way: military, international, domestic. The reaction of the neutral countries to Churchill’s speech is a useful reminder in this respect.
In a broadcast speech on 20 January, Churchill suggested that the expansion of hostilities was likely to draw more states into the war. The Times, 21 Jan. 1940.
But we must be doubly vigilant. Should the British government fulfil even 60% or 70% of its intentions, the rupture of Anglo-Soviet relations would be most likely inevitable.


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[This entry dovetailed with a long letter sent to Molotov on the same day. Convinced that the severance of relations was imminent, Maisky depicted in sombre colours the state of Anglo-Soviet relations which, he warned, posed ‘a serious danger’ to the Soviet Union. The object of his apocalyptic letter was to impress on Molotov that the sooner the war in Finland was concluded ‘in terms favourable to us the better are the chances for Anglo-Soviet relations to survive the present crisis’. It was entirely clear to the Labour leadership that Maisky was left with little choice but to staunchly defend the invasion of Finland, conscious of the danger that it might lead to war and aware that ‘he could not say otherwise, would be recalled & liquidated’.


Page 979

DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 27; Stamford papers, diary, 28 Jan. 1940.
]
27 January
Doshchenko left for Moscow today. All our efforts came to nothing. I made a second visit to Cadogan on this matter on 29 December. I tried to prove Doshchenko’s innocence and insisted that his case should be reviewed. I demanded evidence of his guilt and remarked that the incident might have an adverse effect on Anglo-Soviet relations. Cadogan replied that at this time of war, every government has to increase its ‘vigilance’, that the Home Office has compromising evidence against Doshchenko – so there is nothing to be done. He dropped a hint that if we chose to make too much of the incident, it could ‘leak’ to the press. But he promised to contact the Home Office once more and ask for a more specific statement of the charge.
Cadogan’s silence lasted for five days. I then sent him a letter on 3 January, reminding him of his promise. I received his reply on 4 January, in which he informed me that, ‘Mr Doshchenko abused the hospitality of this country by seeking to collect confidential information by illegal methods.’
The wording of the charge was so elastic that it merely enhanced my suspicion that the matter lay not with Doshchenko himself, but somewhere else, that it was yet another ‘dirty trick’ in the attempt to provoke a rupture. It was absolutely clear that it would be impossible to vindicate Doshchenko. In fact, there was the danger that in view of the further deterioration in Anglo-Soviet relations, the Home Office might come out with yet another trick, such as bringing Doshchenko to court. I consulted with Moscow. It was decided to evacuate Doshchenko as soon as possible and submit a note of protest to the Foreign Office after his departure.
Meanwhile, a Home Office representative visited Doshchenko in prison and started asking him how long he intended to remain in prison, whether the Soviet government trusted him fully, and what he was up to in England. The official stressed that he was familiar with all the details of his negotiations with companies, and gave a few examples. Doshchenko says that he succeeded in wriggling out of these questions. There was no transcript of the interrogation. Doshchenko was not made to sign any papers.


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It took ten days to obtain the exit visa, tickets, etc. Doshchenko and his wife departed today. He was accompanied to Folkestone by Zonov, Feonov,
Nikolai Ivanovich Feonov, member of the Soviet trade delegation in Great Britain, 1938–45.
and… a police inspector. Correct procedure was followed. However, our request for Doshchenko to be released a day or two prior to his departure, in order for him to settle his affairs, was rejected by the Home Office.
29 January
What a journey!
Yesterday, Agniya and I went to see the Webbs after lunch. The weather this January is unusually cold and snowy. As we were leaving, it was getting a little warmer. The snow began to melt and, even on the way to the Webbs, the car was occasionally sliding. We set off back home at about 8.30. It was very dark. A very unpleasant surprise awaited us on the main road: it was just like an ice-rink. Driving was nearly impossible. The car slid from one side of the road to the other. The wheels would not bite. At times the car threatened to turn over. After driving for an hour and a half and covering barely 7–8 miles, we decided to stop somewhere for the night. With the greatest difficulty we reached a tiny roadside Inn bearing the resonant name Red Lion Hotel, Thursley. Unfortunately the inn was already crammed with fellow travellers stranded like us. Like everywhere now, there were many sailors and soldiers. A room was out of the question. We had to content ourselves with two armchairs at the fire-place in the dining-room and two fascinating novels borrowed from the hosts’ library. So Agniya and I spent the whole night reading by the fire. We set out again this morning. It had snowed overnight and our car, which had been parked outside (the inn had no garage), was completely frozen up. White had a big job to start the engine. We saw dozens of fallen trees, torn telegraph wires, and broken-down cars on the way to London. In town we learned that the railway had been disrupted overnight: many trains had got stuck en route, trains from Scotland were running 8–9 hours late, etc.
Well, such a thing has never happened to me before in England!…
Beatrice Webb told me yesterday that in her opinion the capitalist system has only 20–30 years left to live, and no more. Real progress! If the Webbs have arrived at such a conclusion, then God himself has ordered us to set optimistic deadlines. I definitely hope to live to see the triumph of the socialist revolution, at least in Europe.
Brendan Bracken came to lunch today. In spite of his Conservative parliamentary mandate and his proximity to Churchill, he too is unsure about capitalism’s future. He expounded his thoughts at length, arguing that the world


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is heading for the triumph of socialism, even if not exactly the socialism we have in the Soviet Union. Just like Gretchen in Faust. Bracken is not opposed to socialism in principle. But he would like it to establish itself in a ‘respectable’ manner, without smoke and powder, and without financial collapse and economic chaos. In his opinion, the best way to ‘bring about socialism’ is through the inheritance tax. By raising this tax to 80–90%, all capitalists will be gradually ‘expropriated’ and socialism will become inevitable.
Bracken revealed to me some interesting facts concerning the financing of the war. The war currently costs England 6 million pounds a day. Together with ordinary, peace-time expenses, the overall British budget is 7.5 million pounds a day. In the last war, England spent 3 million pounds a day on the war, and that was only during the closing stages of the war. The budget will be covered by taxes and loans – approximately 50-50. Income tax is 7.5 shillings per pound in the current budget, and will probably be raised to 8.5 in the pound in the next budget, and then 10. The British government is trying to avoid the spiral effect in the cost of living and salaries. So prices for consumer products will be maintained by the government at a fixed low level (through subsidies to wholesalers). The British government thereby intends to avoid inflation. In addition, very energetic measures are being taken to increase world exports, and notable results ought to be visible in about six months’ time. Britain is setting itself the task of seizing German markets in South and Central America.
All this is very interesting, but is it realistic? The future will show.
30 January
I went to see Butler about the release of the Soviet steamer Selenga, which has already spent seventeen days in contraband control in Hong Kong. Butler apologized and promised to contact the relevant authorities and inform me of the results.
When we had finished with the Selenga, Butler brought up other issues relating to Anglo-Soviet relations. He asked me what I thought about the state of our relations. I shrugged my shoulders and said that he surely knew as much about it as I did. There were no acute, concrete conflicts between us, but…
‘You mean to say,’ Butler interrupted, ‘that the sea is calm, but the water temperature is very low.’
‘Yes, you may well be right.’
Butler asked if anything in particular could be done to improve our relations, or at least prevent their further deterioration. I retorted that he was in a better position to know: all our difficulties derive from British policy, and in particular from the British government’s desire to interfere in affairs that are of no concern to it.


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Butler objected that the government was doing all right, but that ‘public opinion’ was very worked up and was exerting pressure on the government. I quickly put an end to his wretched arguments, telling him that public opinion is artificially incited by the press, the radio and the cinema – and evidently not without the government’s consent. If the British government was really ‘all right’, it seemed to me, the present temporary difficulties in relations between the two countries might be eliminated by localizing the Finnish question so as not to spoil the entire atmosphere of Anglo-Soviet relations. I resorted to a precedent: our differences on the Spanish question were localized by way of the agreement I concluded with Eden in 1936, which made it possible to maintain Anglo-Soviet relations within the bounds of civility and even friendliness.
J. Colville, Churchill’s private secretary, furiously jotted down in his diary: ‘Maisky has had the impertinence to suggest that we should apply to Finland the same doctrine … to which we adhered in Spain’; J. Colville, The Fringes of Power: 10 Downing Street diaries 1939–1955 (London, 1985), p. 79.
In addition, of course, it was very important that the British government should avoid any kind of provocative actions towards the USSR.
Butler said he liked the idea of ‘localization’, but he wasn’t sure that the British government could avoid such actions as might seem provocative to us. The most important thing in these difficult circumstances was to keep a cool head and have patience.
After a moment’s pause, Butler continued: ‘The main difficulty in Anglo-Soviet relations is that you support our deadly enemy. Many in England are convinced that you have a cast-iron agreement with Germany which practically makes you a single bloc.’
Referring to C[omrade] Molotov’s speeches, I advised Butler not to heed idle gossip. Butler listened to me with obvious satisfaction, but with little trust. Then he exclaimed: ‘If only we knew for sure that your hands really are untied and that you are pursuing your own, independent policy, so much could be different.’
As far as I could understand, he meant that much could be different in England’s behaviour on the Finnish question, too.
I laughed and said that the Soviet Union had always pursued and continues to pursue only its own independent policy.
Butler shrugged his shoulders ambiguously. In the end he told me several times that he wanted to maintain close contact with me and that this was especially important at the present time. We arranged to have lunch together.
[Maisky had assured the Webbs that he was complying with the ‘orders from Moscow to stay put’, in a ‘jovial defiant manner’.
Webb, diary, 29 Jan. 1940, p. 6815.
And yet his diary and his report to Molotov deliberately conceal the grave concerns he felt for his own survival and his repeated pleas to Butler ‘not to be too spectacular … and maintain our diplomatic relations’. Moreover, he was apologetic about the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, lamenting that ‘We lived in a period of change, that anything might happen, that in the jungle the strangest of animals got together – if they felt their joint interests made this advisable.’
TNA FO 371 24843 N1390/30/38, 30 Jan. 1940.


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Woodward, the editor of the White Paper, was the first to record Maisky’s meeting with Butler, in his 1962 official history British Foreign Policy in the Second World War. Maisky was furious, and in his memoirs vehemently denied using the jungle metaphor. But according to Alexander, first lord of the Admiralty, the following exchange with Maisky took place a couple of months later: ‘I said in a casual way: “We live in strange and rapid times”, to which he answered, “Yes, this is the period of the jungle.”’
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 141–2; Alexander papers, AVAR 5/8, 28 June 1940.
And in Bilainkin he confided: ‘The world now resembles a jungle and each one of us has to fight for survival … We must be realistic, treat every problem solely from the aspect of life tomorrow.’
Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, p. 225, 8 Oct. 1940.
According to Butler, Maisky’s despondency also surfaced when he related ‘some hair-raising experiences which he had had when in exile in Northern Siberia, especially when on one occasion he had been thrown off a sledge and left in the snow alone for many hours. He sometimes felt as lonely here as he did on that occasion, but he always remembered that his driver and the reindeer had returned to pick him up again. He said wistfully that this weather reminded him of Northern Siberia.’
TNA FO 371 24843 N1390/30/38. For other discrepancies, see Carley, 1939, p. 245.
]
31 January
Aras visited me. We spoke on various subjects: the forthcoming Balkan conference, from which Aras expects nothing, the prospects for the war, Mussolini’s intentions, Chamberlain’s speech today, and many other issues. Of particular interest were Aras’s comments on Anglo-Soviet relations.
He believes Anglo-Soviet relations are less strained today than they were three or four weeks ago. Aras is personally conducting ‘a struggle in support of the USSR’ with the British, emphasizing that an improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations is essential. He claims to have had some successes. I have doubts about them, but he really is trying to do what he can to prevent a rupture. I know this from different, independent sources. His motives are the same as those of Guo Taiqi. Like China, Turkey does not want to find herself in a position which would force her to choose between the USSR and the ‘Allies’.
Aras intimated to me that prior to the Finnish events, when the British government counted on the USSR’s ‘genuine neutrality’, it hoped to end the war with Germany in 10–12 months. The British government’s calculations have now changed. Now it thinks that the Finnish events have led, or will soon lead, to a rapprochement between the USSR and Germany such as will be practically identical to a ‘military alliance’. The war, therefore, will last longer and victory will become harder. For this reason, alongside a massive intensification of the ‘Allies’’ own efforts, the British government is striving to draw as many neutral countries as possible into the war on its side. Aras gave an example of the ‘intensification’ of such efforts by the ‘Allies’: Mandel is organizing a gigantic ‘black army’ in the colonies, 1.5–2 million strong, which can be transported to France in the course of this year, 1940. How much cheap ‘gun fodder’ the imperialists have!


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***
Jouhaux
Leon Jouhaux, secretary-general of the General Confederation of Labour (CGT), 1909–47.
was in London with six other French trade union leaders for the latest meeting of the Anglo-French trade union committee, which was set up at the end of last year with the purpose of strengthening ties between the ‘Allies’. The first meeting was held in Paris in December and was attended by representatives of seven British trade unions, headed by Hicks. For the second meeting, the French came to London. The guests were shown factories and plants all over the country and were acquainted with the living conditions and circumstances of the workers. The British were desperate to demonstrate to their French colleagues that they too are ‘patriotic’ and are also prepared to do anything ‘for the war’.
The ‘Allies’ discussed some practical matters as well. In Paris, in December, the British tried hard, but in vain, to find out from the French exactly how many members there are in the CGT [General Confederation of Labour]. Jouhaux repeatedly ducked the question. Now, in London, he was obliged to reveal the secret. It turns out that the CGT has only 1 million members compared to 2.5 million before the war and 5 million at the beginning of 1937. Such are the catastrophic consequences of the persecution of communists in France. It also transpired that a further drop in the proletariat’s standard of living was expected, whether in the form of lower wages or through the introduction of new taxes. And this in addition to the 10-hour working day established (officially!) on 1 January, plus a 15% wage tax! Responding to a question from the British about the position of the trade unions, Jouhaux replied that trade unions cannot protest against the forthcoming decline in the proletariat’s living standards because the condition of soldiers and their families is even worse (soldiers’ wives have a miserable allowance). There must be ‘equality of sacrifice’!
The British were not convinced by Jouhaux’s arguments. What’s more, they were greatly alarmed, for they fear that the example of France might inspire the British bourgeoisie to follow suit. But that won’t happen in England. The British working masses here will fight hard, and men like Citrine, Bevin
Ernest Bevin, member of General Council of the TUC, 1925–40; minister of labour and national service, 1940–45; fierce opponent of appeasement, as well as of communism; foreign secretary in post-war Labour government.
and others may find themselves in trouble. That is why the trade union leaders try to take the appropriate ‘measures’ in advance. On the one hand, they step up the struggle against the ‘communist influence’ in the trade unions; on the other, they demand that the British government stabilize prices on products of mass consumption. The government meets its ‘labour guard’ halfway and pays 1 million pounds a week extra to wholesalers to forestall jumps in the cost of food and consumer goods.


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2 February
Subbotić called in. We discussed Balkan issues.
Subbotić does not expect any sensational decisions at the Balkan Entente conference, which opens in Belgrade today. The reason is very simple. The Entente is flawed: it does not include Bulgaria. Bulgaria would probably join if Rumania ceded Dobrudja. Rumania would probably agree, if the question of Dobrudja were resolved in isolation from all other questions, but Rumania is afraid that as soon as Dobrudja returns to Bulgaria, Hungary will immediately claim Transylvania, and the USSR will claim Bessarabia. That is why Rumania clings to Dobrudja. And that is why Bulgaria remains outside the Balkan Entente. It’s a vicious circle.
Subbotić declared in the Foreign Office the other day that the Balkan peoples do not need a ‘large Franco-British army’ in Syria, and that the greatest wish of the Balkan peoples is for none of the great powers to come to their ‘rescue’. Somehow or other, they will look after themselves.
Subbotić also finds that the Balkan countries have become considerably calmer, compared to December, about ‘Soviet intentions’ in this part of Europe.
***
The British government reasons on the assumption that Hitler cannot sit behind the Siegfried Line forever, and that in the spring he must do something, must mount an offensive somewhere. But what and where? The British government can only guess. That is why Ironside
William Edmund Ironside, commander-in-chief Allied troops, Arkhangelsk, northern Russia, 1918–19; commanded ISMID Force, 1920; chief of the imperial general staff, 1939–40; commander-in-chief, home forces, 1940.
has been instructed to prepare for the possibility of a German offensive in spring on three fronts: Holland–Belgium, the Balkans and Scandinavia.
At the same time, the British government has focused its attention on Iceland. It has sent a secret mission there, and is showering it with literature. All this is being done for the following reason. If Germany seizes Denmark, the British government will lay its hands on Iceland, which has great strategic importance for England. If the USSR or Germany or both reach the Norwegian shores of the Atlantic (the British government strongly suspects this might happen), Iceland will serve Great Britain as a good naval and air base against them.
***
The ‘Blue Book’ has not yet come out and nobody knows when it will be released. Some say it will not be published at all, mostly on the insistence of the French government. The latter is said to reason in the following way.


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First, the general problem must be solved: will the ‘Allies’ maintain diplomatic relations with the USSR or will they not? If they do, releasing the Blue Book may produce an adverse effect on the relations between the ‘Allies’ and the USSR. If they don’t, it will also be undesirable to release the Book, in its present version at least, because it is not provocative enough to trigger a rupture. So, the publication of the Blue Book has come to a standstill and its destiny is unclear.
The British government has started to fret over prices and wages. Chamberlain had a long talk with Attlee a day or two ago and demanded that Labour should not harp on the standard of life issue as this ‘undermines the country’s confidence in the government’. Attlee gave no definite promises, saying that this was a matter for the trade unions. But the latter, when it comes to prices and wages, are afraid to act on their wishes. Their leaders wouldn’t be against reaching a compromise with the government, but they fear the masses. They know that even the puniest of trade unionists turns into a lion when his wages are at stake. In this connection, the Labourites and trade unionists scold their French colleagues, who have ‘let them down’ on the question of prices and wages, as well as on that of war aims. The French socialists are inclining ever more to the route of a ‘shattering’ peace, with Germany being partitioned and disarmed.
7 February
Umansky
Konstantin Aleksandrovich Umansky, a polyglot, he was recruited to head the press and information department of NKID in 1936; rumoured to be associated with the NKVD, he was appointed Soviet ambassador to the United States, 1938–41, and to Mexico, 1941–43, where he died in an air crash.
visited Cordell Hull the other day on instructions from Moscow. At first Hull was diplomatically indisposed for an entire week (in response to the three-day delay in informing Steinhardt
Laurence Steinhardt, American ambassador to the Soviet Union, 1939–41.
in Moscow about the American boat City of Flint, which the Germans had brought to Murmansk). But then the meeting took place after all.
Umansky protested about a speech by Johnson,
Louis Arthur Johnson, assistant secretary of war, 1937–40.
the assistant secretary of war, that was offensive towards the Red Army, and further pointed out that the United States was discriminating against Soviet trade under the guise of a ‘moral embargo’.
Hull justified the unfriendly actions against the USSR in terms of US national interests and said that the paths of the USA and the USSR had diverged. Hull behaved correctly. He let it be understood that the United States was not planning to expand its anti-Soviet measures. The question of Finland was not touched upon.


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And today there was a noteworthy incident in the US Congress: one of the congressmen tabled an unexpected motion – to remove from the State Department budget the expenses involved in running the American embassy in Moscow. Although the Administration protested against the proposal, it was rejected by a mere three votes (108 to 105).
8 February
The Inter-Allied Supreme War Council met in Paris on 5 February. Both parties were represented by an unusually large number of participants. The Council’s communiqué expressed satisfaction with the full unanimity of French and British views. Is it really so?
Some reports suggest not. The French continued to insist on severing relations with the USSR, banning the British Communist Party, and stopping the wage rises under way in England. They argued that this was essential in view of the internal situation in France. But the British adhered to their former position in respect of the USSR (not to break off relations themselves, but to provoke the USSR into doing so) and said that considering their own internal situation, they could not bind themselves by any promises about wages. However, the British government was far more amenable on the matter of the Communist Party.
As far as Finland is concerned, the parties agreed to ‘speed up’ and ‘increase’ material aid to Finland and ‘stimulate’ the ‘volunteer’ movement.
On the day of the Supreme War Council meeting, the French police arranged a brazen raid on our trade mission. A true Arcos Raid,
A raid on the London offices of the Soviet trade delegation in May 1927 – the pretext for the severance of relations between the two countries; see Gorodetsky, Precarious Truce, pp. 221–31.
if not worse. Evidently, the French wanted to create a favourable ‘atmosphere’ in which the decision about breaking off relations with the USSR could be taken, and wished to tie the hands of the British in advance. For now, it seems, they have failed. Surits has sent a protest to the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
I’ve heard that members of the British government have already been sounding out Labour leaders about closing down the Communist Party. As might have been expected, Attlee and Greenwood said there were no obstacles from their side. But the British government has not yet taken decisive measures, as it is evidently uncertain about how the masses would react to such a move. Be that as it may, it would not be a surprise if the Communist Party and its press were banned in the near future. The forces of reaction are advancing rapidly.
9 February
[Enclosed is a newspaper cutting entitled ‘The “Little Old Lady” has died. She went to Museum daily for 20 years’, by an Evening Standard reporter.]


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During the years of my emigration, when I used to work as a matter of routine in the Brit[ish] Museum, the following incident occurred.
There was an old French woman, a former governess, who was a regular visitor to the Reading Room over many years. She would sit not far away from me and would always be reading or ‘mentally experiencing’ the scores of various musical works. She always had a hungry look about her, and her clothes were little better than rags; once, the museum administration even denied her admission to the reading room. But the governess’s former charge, an important ‘lady’, intervened on her behalf, and permission to visit the Reading Room was restored to her. The old woman spent whole days in the museum, especially in winter, and told people quite openly that this was where she warmed up: she had nothing to heat her dwelling with.
One day I came to the museum and didn’t find the French woman in her usual place.
This surprised me. The museum administrators were also taken aback. Two or three days passed, but the old woman still didn’t appear. The employees and regulars of the Reading Room became very concerned. They started making inquiries.
It transpired that the old woman had died, and one hundred thousand francs (of the pre-war variety!) were found sewn up in her mattress.
10 February
Today, I found the following item in the Evening Standard.
[Attached is a cutting entitled ‘Closed Down’.]
The effects of the war are beginning to be felt. I heard the other day that Londonderry has also closed up his mansion in London.
This is just the beginning.
11 February
Visited the Old Wizard in Churt.
Maisky routinely uses ‘Old Wizard’ to refer to Lloyd George, rather than the more usual ‘Welsh Wizard’.
It is always pleasant and salutary to talk with him, especially in difficult times. He has an exceptional brain: a sort of clot of high-voltage intellectual energy. He catches your meaning at once and responds with a cascade of brilliant thoughts and comparisons. Yet he also possesses in abundance that supreme wisdom which sees through things, is not distracted by glittering appearances, does not lapse into indignation, does not shout, weep or become agitated, but simply understands and takes everything into account, drawing the appropriate inferences. Whenever you converse with Lloyd George,


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you immediately sense that you are dealing with a man of the highest calibre, a cut above all around him – ministers, parliamentarians and public figures. The difference between Lloyd George and every other contemporary ‘leader’ is like that between Kreisler
Fritz Kreisler, Austrian-born American violinist and composer.
and a violinist from a provincial orchestra. One may say without hesitation: he is an astonishing person.
We talked for about three hours today. Leaving my own arguments and considerations to one side, I’ll try to convey the gist of what the ‘Old Wizard’ told me.
‘If it comes to war between England and the USSR,’ Lloyd George exclaimed, with a toss of his pince-nez, ‘this would be the greatest catastrophe. It’s terrifying even to contemplate. But one shouldn’t close one’s eyes to the facts. Anglo-Soviet relations have been deteriorating since the beginning of the Finnish war and are in a precarious state today. The near future holds no hope of improvement. If the Finnish war drags on for another three or four months – you’ll hardly be able to occupy the country any sooner – will our relations be able to stand it? Won’t they snap?’


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In Lloyd George’s opinion, two basic aspects must be taken into account when considering the deterioration in Anglo-Soviet relations, at least as far as the British side is concerned: first, the anti-communist stance of the ruling circles and, second, the admiration of the masses – the man in the street – for the strong and stubborn resistance mounted by the Finns. We shouldn’t have any illusions: the masses are on the side of Finland. Political experts understand the role that Finland might play in certain circumstances – that of vanguard and springboard in the struggle of the capitalist powers against the USSR. These political experts are capable of appreciating our [i.e. Russian] arguments and possibly even of justifying our actions. But they are the exceptions. The masses do not know or understand any of this. The press, radio and cinema are waging a frenzied anti-Soviet campaign. Not only do they make no attempt to present the Russian case with any measure of objectivity, but they spare no effort to stupefy the masses and set them against the USSR. As a result, the man in the street perceives what is happening in Finland approximately as follows: huge, ‘totalitarian’ Soviet Union has attacked small, ‘democratic’ Finland which, unlike Poland, is putting up a superb fight for its survival. It’s clear that all the sympathies of this man in the street are with Finland. Labour is playing a critical role here: its stance merely adds fuel to the fire. The ruling circles are skilfully exploiting the situation, fanning the flames of the anti-Soviet campaign. As a result, Anglo-Soviet relations are deteriorating rapidly. It’s a threatening outlook. In L-G’s opinion, the USSR, against its will and desires, has, by the pure logic of things, neared the edge of the precipice beyond which it will begin to be sucked into a European war. One false move and the fire will spread to the USSR. All the more so as there are enough provocateurs in England, and especially France, advocating rupture and war with the USSR.
Where might one expect the danger to come from most directly? L-G thinks Sweden. The ruling circles in Sweden and Norway have become deeply convinced of late that the USSR has far-reaching imperialist designs and that Finland is just a prelude, following the capture of which Moscow will strike out against Sweden and Norway. Moscow is said to want access to the Atlantic Ocean from Narvik or some other Norwegian port. London and Paris support and exacerbate the Scandinavians’ fears as best they can. The broad masses in Sweden and Norway are no less hostile to the USSR than they are in England. Hence the danger that Sweden and Norway may plunge into the Finnish war in fear and despair, thinking it better to fight the ‘Russian menace’ now, while Finland is still ‘alive’ and at war with the USSR. Will they take the risk? It’s difficult to say, but everything is possible in the present situation. The arrest of communists in Sweden, reported in today’s newspapers, is a bad sign. And should Sweden and Norway intervene in the Finnish war, the mood here in England would be such – Lloyd George has no doubts about this – that the British


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government would be forced to lend them all-out military support. The pressure of public opinion would be so powerful that no Cabinet could withstand it. We should have no illusions on this score either.
Can this looming disaster be prevented? L-G thinks it can. The situation is very serious but not entirely hopeless. Chamberlain, Hoare, Halifax and Kingsley Wood are against the war with the USSR. Simon, as usual, is hedging his bets. This group may indeed be able to withstand French pressure. But the Soviet government must show flexibility as well. First of all, it mustn’t yield to provocation. It’s very good that the Soviet government responded calmly to the farce in Geneva and to the raid on the trade mission in Paris. And it’s very good that the Soviet government did not recall me in response to the departure of Seeds (‘a big fool’). Surits mustn’t be recalled from Paris. We mustn’t protest to the British government about the weapons, aeroplanes and so on that they are sending to Finland. Nothing will come of it except an increase in vexation and anti-Soviet agitation. All the more so as events in Finland have advanced so far that decisions will be made on the battlefield, not in the offices of diplomats. Some positive initiatives would be desirable. First, it would be advisable to assure Sweden and Norway that the USSR is not nurturing any hostile intentions against them. If Sweden remains neutral, Anglo-French aid will necessarily remain quite modest (the British and the French are ‘short of weapons themselves’, and the number of ‘volunteers’ will scarcely go beyond a few thousand), for L-G is certain that troops would not be dispatched in such circumstances. Second, it would be good to test the ground for the resumption of trade talks between England and the USSR. This would ‘soften’ the mood in London.
As usual, Lloyd George made his arguments vividly, rapidly and passionately, scattering them with sparks of humour, images and comparisons. And all that he said deserves close attention.
We spoke on other subjects as well. L-G’s verdict on the big war is right on the money: it’s a nonsense. It’s a nonsense from both the political and the military points of view. The sooner peace is concluded, the better, but will it happen? L-G has grave doubts. He attaches little importance to Sumner Welles’ imminent visit to Europe. Little will come of it. Except perhaps harm: Moscow has been excluded from the itinerary of the American traveller. This is fairly significant. Does he not have some anti-Soviet plans? In general terms, Sumner Welles’ trip is, without doubt, closely tied to American domestic policy. Roosevelt wants to be a ‘peace-maker’, he wants to boost his prestige, and wants to decide whether he should put himself up for election.
Among the members of the British government, Chamberlain, Hoare and Halifax are for peace ‘at the first opportunity’; Churchill, Kingsley Wood and Stanley are for ‘war to the end’. Simon sits on the fence. The first group is supported by most Tories, the second by a Tory minority and the Labour–


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Liberal opposition. What does peace ‘at the first opportunity’ mean? In L-G’s opinion, the minimal basis for such a peace is the restoration of at least a puppet Poland, autonomy to Czechoslovakia, and Germany’s withdrawal of its demand for the immediate return of its colonies. Peace could be concluded on this basis, even though it would cause a serious split in the country. But would Hitler agree to such conditions? L-G is not sure, but he thinks that Hitler has nothing to gain by dragging the war out for another year or two, because his position would deteriorate: he would lose his present superiority in the air and on land. The British army will be formidable in a year’s time.
Lloyd George scoffed at the French: some French politicians are convinced that the Ukraine is ripe for an ‘uprising’. All that’s needed is to send a small French landing force to Odessa. A madman’s ravings.
15 February
After a brief interlude, Scandinavia is once again on the agenda.
Since early February, our success on the Finnish front has become quite evident. We are stubbornly battering the Mannerheim Line and gradually breaking through. A little more and the turning point in the war will be a fait accompli. The enemies of the USSR – the friends of Mannerheim, Tanner and Co. – are very worked up: they sense that the end of their adventure is nigh. And they try to mobilize new forces against us while they still have time.
Immense efforts are being made to push Scandinavia, and primarily Sweden, into a direct intervention in Finland. This is being done both inside and outside Sweden. Sandler and his followers are active inside Sweden. Their arguments boil down to the following. The USSR will not be content with swallowing up Finland, but will advance further towards the shores of the Atlantic through Sweden and Norway. Germany will join it. Or vice versa: as soon as the USSR occupies Finland, the Germans will march into Sweden, and the USSR will join Germany. In both cases, Sweden and Norway will, in the very near future, have to fight for their lives against the ‘imperialisms’ of Germany and the Soviet Union. That is why it is better for Sweden to help Finland openly now, while Finland is still able to fight. All the more so as Sweden and Norway can count on receiving military aid from the ‘Allies’. How strong is this tendency? Hard to say. But Prytz, who has just spent a couple of days in Stockholm, assured Halifax the other day that the movement in support of intervention is growing very rapidly in Sweden and that he wouldn’t be surprised to find Sweden and the USSR at war within a matter of weeks.
The British and the French are moving in the same direction. Daladier has just summoned Scandinavian representatives and demanded that they should give Finland their entire reserve force, promising to recompense them in full.


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The Scandinavians, however, responded very [word missing]. The Second International, and especially the French socialists, are pressing hard along similar lines, even demanding that relations with the USSR be broken off.
The British are acting rather more cautiously. They are swelling the Swedes’ and Norwegians’ fear of the USSR, attempting to push both countries to intervene directly in Finland. But until this becomes a certainty, they restrict themselves to sending weapons to Helsinki and to organizing ‘stimulated voluntary service’ (as Beaverbrook put it in our recent conversation). England and France have already sent 300 planes and intend to send some 400 more. They are also sending artillery and anti-aircraft weapons. Sweden, which the British government has promised to compensate fully in kind or in cash, is giving a great deal. Ironside makes the following calculations. The USSR will not accomplish anything decisive before mid-March. Then military operations will get bogged down for a month and a half because of the thaw and the slush. Serious operations will be resumed no earlier than May, and the whole campaign will end, if the USSR is lucky, no earlier than mid-summer. Russian losses will reach nearly half a million. This should weaken the USSR to such a degree that it will hardly be capable of mounting a full-scale attack on Sweden and Norway. I fear that Ironside is mistaken. It’s not the first time it’s happened to him: the same thing happened in Arkhangelsk 20 years ago. All these calculations are based on the assumption that Sweden and Norway will not interfere directly in the conflict. If they do interfere, then more enticing prospects will open before those who wish to see an expansion of the war. In this scenario, it is clear that Germany will also advance on Scandinavia. Britain’s hands will be untied. They will break through to the Baltic and land a 30,000–40,000-strong force in Narvik to capture and hold the region of Kiruna (iron ore).
In our conversation of 10 February, Beaverbrook defined the situation as follows: ‘If Sweden and Norway remain neutral, British aid to Finland will most probably not exceed that which the Soviet government gave to the Spanish Republicans. If Sweden and Norway openly intervene, England and France will give them maximum military support.’
That seems about right.
Three days ago, Halifax stated in a confidential talk with several top journalists that the British government does not intend to declare war itself on the USSR, but that, on the other hand, the danger of the USSR declaring war on Britain would not keep the British government from carrying out its plans in respect of Finland.
In other words, the British government plans to assist Mannerheim in so far as it is able to (which depends to a great extent on the position of Sweden and Norway), no matter what the reaction of the USSR might be. I think Halifax overdid it a bit. Well, time will tell.


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19 February
Here is Norman Angell’s
Sir Ralph Norman Angell, member of the Council of Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1928–42.
view of the war (he came to lunch with me today).
The present balance of forces is about even. The war is entering its second phase – the fight for the neutrals. Soon there will be no ‘free’ neutral states in Europe among the small powers. Once they have all been allocated, the balance of forces, in all probability, will nevertheless remain about even. This stalemate may become entrenched for several years. Angell thinks, however, that there are limits to how long the human psyche can stand such a state of siege. Something has to snap. He thinks it possible, for instance, that in order to break the stalemate the British may one day send their air fleet to bomb Berlin. In his view, the Germans, being accustomed to military and other sorts of discipline, will be able to endure the boredom of this war better than the British. Saying this, Angell excluded various contingencies, such as the disappearance of Hitler, some kind of exceptional military invention, revolution, etc.
Time will tell. Human judgements are often very short-sighted. I remember, for instance, that in European socialist circles before 1914, war was widely deemed impossible for two reasons: (1) the psyche of contemporary man was unable to endure the horrors of war and (2) world economies were so intertwined that, should the bonds be broken, global economic catastrophe would ensue, rendering the conduct of war impossible.
But what happened in reality?
21 February
Our undeniable successes at the front (breakthrough in the western section of the Mannerheim Line) have made a powerful, but double-edged impression in Britain.
Our successes have made more reasonable people – among whom should be numbered Chamberlain’s group in the government, Beaverbrook, Labourites like Hicks, Tom Williams, Strabolgi and others – more restrained and circumspect on the matter of aid to Finland. They are less inclined than ever to risk the possibility of war with the Soviet Union.
Less reasonable people, including certain ministers who appear to be led by Churchill (though I have no definite information about the latter’s stance on the Finnish question), supporters of Hore-Belisha, Liberals headed by Sinclair, and various newspapers – News Chronicle, The Star, Sunday Times and others – draw the reverse conclusion. Sensing Mannerheim to be weakening, they have launched a frenzied campaign in London to provide energetic support to


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the Finns on the broadest scale, including the sending of troops, while ignoring the risk of open war with the USSR and the transformation of Scandinavia into a field of battle between the ‘Allies’ and Germany.
Calmly assessing all these factors, I’m inclined to think that the people in the first group outweigh those in the second group by a significant margin, since England itself is at stake here. There is one complication, though: the majority of the French government supports the line taken by the ‘less reasonable’. I’ve heard that at the meeting of the Supreme War Council on 5 February, the French directly proposed the dispatching of an expeditionary corps to Finland. True, this received a cool response from Chamberlain and Halifax, but still… The French government plus ‘activists’ in England may lead Chamberlain, step by step, to a point from which it may prove difficult to retreat from direct involvement in the Finnish conflict. The prime minister is a past master at ‘gliding’, inconspicuously and semi-consciously, into fatal situations. It’s enough to recall Munich and the current war. Mightn’t something similar happen in this case?
On the whole, the situation has to be recognized as dangerous and fraught with any number of surprises. One might easily be drawn into a major war. The best means of avoiding this danger is speed on the Finnish front. The Anglo-French calculations are based on the assumption that the decisive phase in Finland will not begin until May. If we could upset these calculations and bring the war to an end within a few weeks (or, if not end the war completely, at least deliver a decisive blow to the Finns, after which the hopelessness of their position would be obvious to all), we would exit the danger zone. The British are quick to accept faits accomplis, and they would not risk war with the USSR for the sake of a lost cause. But should operations on the Finnish front continue over a long period of time, who knows what this could lead to?
The root of British activism is the widespread conviction that the USSR and Germany are ‘allies’ – if not yet formally, then in the near future. Hence the tendency to make no distinction between Germany and the USSR and to label both as ‘enemies’. This is where explanations must be sought for Churchill’s and Hore-Belisha’s change of tack. The trade agreement we signed with Germany on 11 February gave new impetus to all those speculations and fears. It’s no accident that Butler asked me during our last meeting (he lunched with me on 16 February) whether the USSR and Germany should be viewed as ‘allies’ following the agreement of 11 February. And it’s no accident that Colville declared the USSR to be a ‘potential enemy’ at a public meeting a few days ago. Not that Colville is a political figure of the first rank, but he is still secretary of state for Scotland. Various statesmen and politicians have displayed similar sentiments recently. I try proving to everybody that talk about a Soviet–German ‘alliance’ is absurd. But since nobody believes a word anyone says in the world


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of diplomacy at the moment, I have no illusions about the effectiveness of my refutations on this issue. Moscow ought to have demonstrated this in a more obvious manner.
On the turbulent Anglo-Soviet relations during the war and peace negotiations, see Shukman and Chubarian, Stalin and the Soviet-Finnish War, and Kollontay, Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, II, pp. 482–522. This entry was sparked by Molotov’s telegram to Maisky upbraiding the British government for spreading the ‘ridiculous and slanderous’ rumours about a military alliance between Germany and Russia; DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 49. As was his habit, Maisky had prompted Butler to raise the possibility of British mediation in the negotiations with the Finns. Molotov gave it his full blessing and produced the peace terms, which were however turned down by the Cabinet. It was, as Channon wrote in his diary after meeting Butler, ‘A diabolically clever scheme, but Maisky’s dove is clearly a vulture.’ With a chip on his shoulder since the Munich Agreement, Butler was playing a double game. When a peace agreement was signed with Finland three weeks later, he let it be understood that his ‘foresight prevented another Munich, which is what we should have been accused of, had we entertained Maisky’s proposals’; DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 50, record of meeting with Butler, 22 Feb.; Butler papers, RAB G11/21, FO’s instructions to Butler, 24 Feb.; Rhodes, Chips, 22 Feb. and 13 March 1940, pp. 234, 236; VSD, pp. 470–2.
25 February
I recall a scene I saw once in Mongolia.
A horse slipped off the precipice and tumbled down the side of the mountain towards the abyss. She neighed desperately, turned over several times and managed to stop on a small ledge. Scratched all over, with large bruises and bleeding wounds on her sides, but still in one piece, she was clinging on to the ledge and thrashing her legs about in a feverish attempt to find support. For several minutes she made immense efforts to stand up and remain on the ledge, and there were moments when it seemed that she would succeed. But the ledge was small and uneven, and the horse was huge and ungainly. She was unable to keep her balance, slipped once again and rolled further down the mountain-side. There was another shelf some 100 metres below. Turning somersaults, the horse reached it and came to a stop once again. This second stone shelf was wider than the first, and had the horse been still in one piece, as only a few minutes earlier, she might well have escaped death. But now she had a broken leg and a thick stream of blood gushing from her croup. Yet her survival instinct was still functioning. She was madly scraping her three unhurt legs against the rock face, neighing and swishing her tail. But she lacked the strength to save herself. A few moments later she fell once again and rolled further down, fast and unstoppably. But she was still alive. All beaten up, her legs broken, drenched in blood, the horse fell another 100 metres onto a third small ledge which jutted out whimsically from the cliff face, and made a few weak movements with her head and body to hold on once more. But it was too late. She had no strength left. She slipped off again and careered down the rocky slope into the abyss.
This scene often comes to mind when I think about Anglo-Soviet relations over the last three months.
The curve of our relations has been dropping sharply since the beginning of the Finnish war. It is not a sheer drop, but broken up into stages. The first jump into the precipice was made in Geneva, when the League of Nations, led by the British and the French with the covert assistance of the United States, expelled the USSR for ‘aggression’. There were rumours then that England and France would immediately sever diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union. But this didn’t happen. On the contrary, Butler declared in the League’s lobby that Geneva was one thing and London another. In Geneva, the British were devotees of ‘principles’ and had to anathematize the USSR ‘on grounds of


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principle’. In London, the British were engaged in business and would maintain diplomatic relations with the Soviet ‘devil’ ‘on grounds of expedience’. There followed a relatively calm two-week period in Soviet–British relations.
The next leap down the cliff face happened at the turn of the year: the preparation of the ‘Blue Book’, the departure of Seeds ‘on leave’, Doshchenko’s arrest, the British embassy in Moscow packing up for evacuation, the rumours spread about my departure from London, and, most importantly, weapons and planes began to be delivered to Finland. This period of agitation lasted until mid-January, when another temporary lull set in. Its outward manifestation was the indefinite deferral of the publication of the Blue Book, which had been scheduled for 15 January.
Two weeks later, and there was a further plunge. Churchill’s speech of 20 January, Chamberlain’s reply to Knox’s query about the severance of Anglo-Soviet relations on 24 January, the British government’s decision to provide the Finns not only with weapons but also with ‘volunteers’, and intense pressure on Sweden and Norway, urging them to support Mannerheim by way of direct armed intervention. This fevered state of affairs lasted until mid-February. The Swedish prime minister, Hansson,
Per Albin Hansson, leader of the Swedish Social Democrat Party from 1925; prime minister of Sweden, 1932–46.
put an end to it, declaring on 16 February that Sweden would maintain neutrality in the Finnish war (that same ‘neutrality’ it had been practising until then). A new temporary lull set in, which continues to this day. It is still unclear how it will be affected by my démarche of 22 February.
Step by step, from one ledge to another. After each fall, Anglo-Soviet relations get back on their feet for an instant and stabilize themselves, but on a lower level every time. The further they fall, the more unstoppable the slide. Will they indeed fall into the abyss of rupture and war? Or will they succeed in getting a firm hold on one of the ledges? Or even, having found it, start climbing back up? Should the Finnish campaign end quickly, Anglo-Soviet relations would correct themselves. If it drags on – who knows? The contest today is between the tempo of the termination of the Finnish war and the tempo of the transformation of the Finnish war into a general capitalist attack on the Soviet Union. Which will win?…
8 March
Well, it looks like our affairs are taking a turn for the better. It seems that we’ll make a fool of Ironside for a second time.


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Yesterday the News Chronicle published the first report from Stockholm about the peace negotiations between the USSR and Finland. Sweden is playing the part of mediator. It couldn’t have been otherwise after the refusal of the British government. The report caused quite a stir in London.
All the newspapers today are full of the most sensationalist reports on this subject. Leaving aside the absurdities and exaggerations, one thing can be stated for sure: the peace talks are under way. This has been the sole topic of conversation all day long in political and government circles. It’s interesting and symptomatic that news of the peace negotiations has been met with obvious displeasure and even irritation among the elite, with Sweden, rather than the USSR, supplying the main target for criticism. Sweden is being accused of all manner of mortal sins: she has ‘put pressure’ on Finland, she ‘toadies’ before Germany, she is ‘running to seed’, she is engrossed in ‘manicure culture’, etc. It’s perfectly clear that Sweden is being intimidated. To what end?
I found the answer in my conversation today with Prytz, who, after a long interval, came over for lunch. It transpires that the Supreme War Council’s decision about dispatching an expeditionary corps to Finland was not mere words. My fears have come true: the French government plus British activists succeeded in nudging Chamberlain to the point when the British envoy in Stockholm put the following question to the Swedish government: how would it respond to an Anglo-French request to allow the transit of Allied troops earmarked for Finland through Swedish territory? The Swedish foreign minister, Günther,
Christian Ernst Günther, Swedish minister for foreign affairs, 1939–45.
replied that the Swedish government would regard such a step as a violation of the policy of neutrality, and therefore did not even consider it possible to discuss the question raised by the British envoy. In this way, the ‘Allies’’ attempt to unleash war in Scandinavia seems to have failed. What is curious, however, is that my démarche was made on 22 February. The British made a démarche in Stockholm in early March, i.e. after the British government had learned of our intention to make peace with the Finns. Only one conclusion can be drawn: not only does the British government not desire an end to the Finnish war but, on the contrary, it makes efforts to prolong and intensify it. True, Prytz makes one qualification: it is not clear to him why the British government tested the ground in Stockholm. Was it seriously considering sending troops to Finland? Or rather was it counting on exploiting the anticipated refusal of the Swedish government as an argument against sending troops to Finland in its negotiations with the French? For the information at Prytz’s disposal also suggests that it is the French government which is leading the dance on the question of dispatching an expeditionary corps to Finland. I don’t know whether Prytz is right or not about this, but,


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even taking into account his qualification, we can safely say that the ‘Allies’ are against putting an end to the Finnish war, that they are attempting to scupper the peace negotiations, and will continue to do so.
Why? The reasons, I believe, are as follows:
(1) The longer the USSR is occupied in the north, the longer the ‘Allies’ are safe from ‘Soviet danger’ in the Near East, which is much more important to them than Finland.
(2) The Finnish war is ‘weakening’ the USSR and reducing its capacity to supply Germany with raw materials and foodstuffs.
(3) For as long as the Finnish war rumbles on, the possibility remains of drawing Scandinavia into a major war and creating a ‘mobile’ front there against Germany.
(4) A peace agreement, despite and in the face of England’s refusal to mediate, would be a heavy blow to the prestige of Great Britain in Scandinavia.
Nonetheless, if Sweden stands firm and the peace negotiations don’t drag on too long, the British activists will not be able to do great harm in spite of all their malevolence.
Speed! It is no less important now than it was at the front in February.
11 March
Irritation occasioned by the ‘danger’ of peace in Finland is growing in government circles. It’s hardly surprising. The Finns have sent a delegation to Moscow: Ryti, Paasikivi,
Juho Kusti Paasikivi, Finnish minister to Sweden, 1936–39, and to Moscow, 1940–41; prime minister of Finland, 1918 and 1944–46.
Voionmaa
Väinö Voionmaa, a professor of history, he was a member of parliament, a member of the Finnish delegation to the League of Nations and foreign minister in 1938.
and General Walden.
General Rudolf Walden, military representative in the Finnish Cabinet during the Winter War; minister for defence, 1940–44.
The negotiators on our side are C[omrades] Molotov, Zhdanov and Vasilevsky
Aleksandr Mikhailovich Vasilevsky, head of operations; deputy chief and then chief of the general staff, 1941–45.
(military). Meetings were held on 8 and 10 March. There are some differences of opinion, but it seems clear that agreement will be achieved. The British government senses this and its fury increases accordingly.
A remarkable scene unfolded in the press department of the Foreign Office today. The French, as is their wont, have been blabbing out the particulars of my démarche of the 22nd. French, Belgian and American journalists already knew about it last week. One American journalist came to see me to check the facts. Seeing that the cat had been let out of the bag (in a rather anti-Soviet manner), I confirmed the whole story, describing matters as they actually stood.


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The American speedily telegraphed the story to New York, and, by a peculiar oversight, the censor let it pass. A few hours later, the same report came back to the continent from America. It made a massive splash. The Foreign Office was nonplussed. This morning, items concerning my démarche appeared in the Yorkshire Post and Financial News. Then the Foreign Office decided to cut the Gordian knot and presented the press with its account of my démarche and the response of the British government. The effect was extraordinary and highly revealing. When the representative of the press department made the statement at the morning press conference at the FO, it was as if a bomb had exploded. Moreover, all the neutral journalists (of which there were many at the press conference: not only Scandinavians, but also Dutch, Belgians, Swiss, Americans and others) declared with one voice: ‘Now we know who wants war and who doesn’t want war. Now we can see clearly what the British are playing at.’
The British government, however, continues its game. The papers today try to scare the Swedes and urge the Finns not to agree to the conditions of peace proposed by us, saying that they are ‘impossible’, ‘humiliating’, deprive Finland of its ‘independence’, etc. Furthermore, Chamberlain declared in the House that the British government was ready to help Finland ‘by all available means’, and Daladier said openly in his speech that since 26 February, 50,000 French soldiers had been waiting to be shipped to Finland. The curtain is being raised ever higher.
According to the press, two conditions are necessary to implement the plans for direct intervention: (1) the Finnish government must make an open appeal for help to England and France, and (2) Sweden and Norway must agree to the passage of the expeditionary corps. The British government calculates that if the peace negotiations fall through, the Finns will make the necessary appeal, while the Swedes and the Norwegians will ‘lose heart’ and agree to ‘cooperate’ with the Western powers. And even if they don’t agree, they will be forced to. This latter point is not stated overtly, but transparent hints to this effect have been made. I’ve heard that a specific plan has already been worked out: to land the expeditionary corps in Narvik and make Norway come to terms with it as a fait accompli.
‘On paper there had seemed no hitches, Alas! Forgotten were the ditches, which one would have to cross!’ That’s how things will go with the Anglo-French calculations. For, to judge by the latest news, the peace treaty has already been agreed. Tomorrow it will be signed.
12 March
The new Iranian minister, Moghaddam,
Mohammad Ali Moghaddam, Iranian ambassador in London, 1940–41.
has paid me his first visit.


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A tall, somewhat heavy man of the eastern type. He speaks excellent Russian, having spent many years in the diplomatic service in Russia in the old days. His wife, who is the daughter of the Persian consul-general in Moscow, even studied at a Moscow gymnasium. Moghaddam was court minister to the shah prior to his appointment in London and speaks in ecstatic, lisping tones about his master: how ascetic he is, how hard-working, what an outstanding statesman he is, etc. Moghaddam assured me most emphatically that the shah’s one ambition is to stay out of the war and that he will never permit Iran or its territory to be used against the USSR.
I mentioned half in jest that I heard talk of England offering guarantees to Iran. Moghaddam look at me with horror in his eyes, raised his hands and exclaimed: ‘British guarantees? God forbid!… After Poland?… Not for the world! Our life is still dear to us!’
What a fine reputation Chamberlain has won for himself!
***
Guo told me today that the Graf Spee’s scuttling by its own men was easily explained. The crew had revolted and did not want to go out to sea from Montevideo to fight the British ships. Captain Langsdorff
Hans Wilhelm Langsdorff.
reported this to Berlin. Hitler ordered the Graf Spee to be sunk. Langsdorff found it impossible to endure this ‘disgrace’ and, having executed the order, committed suicide.
***
Chamberlain told Labourites that he had been forced to decline my démarche of 22 February because of the French government, although he himself was heart and soul for an early Soviet–Finnish peace and wished the Moscow negotiations every success. Pure hypocrisy!
13 March
I barely slept last night. Moscow radio announced in the evening that an important communication would be transmitted after midnight. I immediately understood that this was about the peace treaty with Finland and sat down by the radio to await news. It was a long wait. It was only at 3.30 a.m. Moscow time that the end of the Soviet–Finnish war and the conclusion of peace between the belligerents was finally announced.
Hurrah! I was ready to hurl my hat into the air.
We have emerged from a very great danger. We have preserved the possibility of staying out of an imperialist war. And we have gained what we wanted: Leningrad and our north-western borders are now secure.


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In the afternoon I went to parliament, where Chamberlain was due to make a statement about the conclusion of peace. The diplomatic gallery was practically empty. There were only myself, the Bulgarian and… the duke of Alba (the Spaniard). But the House was packed to the rafters and the air was humming, as before a storm.
Chamberlain made a brief statement consisting of little more than formalities. Attlee and Sinclair said a few words appropriate to the occasion. Sinclair let it be understood that he was not entirely sure whether the British government had fulfilled its ‘duty’ with regard to Finland. Hore-Belisha made this point far more sharply in his statement, asking the prime minister a few awkward and rather barbed questions. Hore-Belisha, supported by Macmillan and Sinclair, demanded that a closed session of parliament be convened to discuss the government’s conduct during the Finnish war. Labour, however, did not second Belisha’s demand. In his response Chamberlain did his best to wriggle out of the situation, arguing that the British government had ‘fulfilled its duty’. Whether this is true or not is another matter; at any rate, the activists didn’t get their way at this session.
But as for parliament … I can’t recall seeing it in such a state of excitement and fury. Indeed, the only word to describe the mood of the majority of all the MPs, with only a few exceptions, was fury. Impotent fury, but fury nonetheless – vivid, seething, overflowing fury…
‘It’s fallen through! What a pity, it’s fallen through,’ were the words that seemed to hang in the air.
This frenzy was expressed in the House’s reactions to the various anti-Soviet volleys by ministers and MPs. When Chamberlain referred to ‘aggression’ in reference to the Finnish events, the House shook with shouts of approval. When the ‘Independent’ McGovern
John McGovern, Scottish ILP MP, 1930–59, and chairman of the ILP, 1941–43.
took aim at the USSR and C[omrade] Stalin, the hall resounded for an entire minute with deafening yells, ‘Hear! Hear!’
Looking down from the diplomatic gallery, I watched that vile display of angry impotence with a sense of superiority. And at the same time it was clearer to me than ever that peace had been concluded at just the right time.
A feeling shared by Halifax: ‘I can’t myself resist some feeling of thankfulness at not having got an Expedition bogged where it could not be maintained, and I don’t believe anything in the long run would have made much difference. But I certainly shall not say this in public’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.3, 13 March 1940. He was surely influenced by Eden’s rather cynical (but pragmatic) long letter to him earlier in the month, in which he raised doubt whether it was ‘a world-rocking tragedy’ for the Allies if ‘the Finns go under?’; TNA FO 800/281, 2 March 1940, pp. 394–400.
Newspapers and politicians may carry on fussing about the ‘cruelty’ of the Soviet–Finnish peace for a few days but, so long as new unexpected factors do not come into play, the frenzied anti-Soviet wave which gathered force at the beginning of the Finnish war will soon ebb. It seems as if Anglo-Soviet relations may succeed in keeping their feet on the current ‘ledge’. Their fall has stopped. Will they begin to climb back up?
I can’t rule it out. But time will tell.


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16 March
I visited Lloyd George in Churt. The old man has a cold and is not in the best of health, but he is alive and looking as bright as ever.
He congratulated me on the timely conclusion of peace.
‘I won’t touch upon the merits of the case,’ he said. ‘I think we might disagree on this point, but I’m very glad about the peace. The danger of war between England and the USSR was quite real. I had much evidence of this in recent weeks, since our last meeting. Had the war dragged on till May, I can assure you that conflict between our countries would have become unavoidable. Not because Chamberlain wanted such a conflict. You know my opinion of Chamberlain, don’t you?’
Lloyd George burst into peals of infectious laughter, and I recalled how he used to mock the prime minister in my presence, calling him ‘the manufacturer of iron beds’.
‘Whatever my opinion of Chamberlain may be,’ Lloyd George continued, ‘I must say that in this matter he was not seeking war with you. Rather the opposite. The trouble is that Chamberlain never makes a decision about anything. He always goes with the flow, merely permitting himself the odd little splash from time to time. And I am absolutely sure that if the Finnish war had lasted two or three months longer, the prime minister would have slipped into a war with the USSR almost unawares. Thank God the danger has passed! I congratulate you again with all my heart.’
As for the terms of peace, Lloyd George finds them quite normal. He showed me a letter from Liddell-Hart in which the latter says that from the military point of view he finds the terms of peace to be moderate, even soft.
I asked the old man what he thinks about the danger of war between our countries in connection with the situation in the Near East.
Lloyd George replied that much would depend on the USSR’s behaviour. For example, if the USSR attempted to solve the question of Bessarabia by force or crossed the Persian border, this would inevitably lead to war in the Near East, which would turn into a world war. But should the USSR keep quiet, then Lloyd George fails to see how the British and the French could initiate a war in the Near East. For, in his opinion, the interests of Germany mainly consist in maintaining peace in South-East Europe and exploiting its economic resources. Turkey occupies a ‘key’ position in this part of the world. Lloyd George is confident that Turkey will not let itself get involved in any anti-Soviet adventures. If the USSR could somehow strengthen its relations with Turkey, the skies in the Near East would be truly cloudless.
Speaking about Bessarabia, Lloyd George remarked in passing: ‘I’ve never sympathized with the annexation of Bessarabia and even warned Brătianu
Ion I.C. Brătianu, foreign minister and prime minister of Rumania intermittently, 1909–27.


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against it. But Brătianu was a stubborn, and greedy man. He liked to grab any odds and ends with both hands. The consequence is today’s Rumania – an artificial and unviable state, like Poland.’
Then we spoke about the immediate prospects for Anglo-Soviet relations. Lloyd George scolded the British government fiercely for its response to my démarche of 22 February. He said, however, that now, with the end of the Finnish war, the opportunity existed to improve relations between our countries. The resumption of trade negotiations would be the best step.
‘As you know very well,’ the old man said with a cunning smile, ‘every Englishman has a soft spot in his heart for trade. Why not take advantage of it?’
Lloyd George also thinks that it would be very useful, in order ‘to clear the air’, for a Soviet leader to make a public statement to the effect that the USSR has no sinister intentions in the Near East. This would be of great comfort to the government and political circles, which are presently discussing in earnest not only the possibility of Soviet expansion in the Balkans, but also of a ‘Bolshevik march’ on India.
I mocked all these fears, but Lloyd George advised me against underestimating their importance. It even seemed to me that the old man himself is not entirely free of them.
Another detail. In the course of our conversation, L-G asked when I had last seen Halifax. I said I saw him three and a half months ago, on the eve of the Finnish war. Lloyd George raised his hands to the heavens in a comic gesture of despair and exclaimed: ‘I say! If I were in Halifax’s place, I’d summon you at least twice a week to try to influence you and keep the USSR from getting too close to Germany. Three and a half months! Good heavens!’
A mischievous twinkle sparkled in L-G’s eyes, and he said with his infectious laugh: ‘I have plum trees in my garden. The short ones yield a lot of fruit. The very tall ones devour a ton of fertilizers but bear no fruit at all. They’re absolutely barren. My gardener says about the tall ones: “They’re nice to look at, but don’t go expecting any fruit from them.” The same with Halifax: he is tall and good-looking, but barren as a fig tree.’
The old man roared with laughter once more.
17 March
Our victory in Finland is beginning to make itself felt. Those who hid in the bushes or stood in open opposition to the USSR from the very first weeks of the war are starting to ‘return’. The atmosphere around the embassy is still decidedly chilly, but the first warm currents can be felt. As always… As always after an anti-Soviet storm.
The first reports about our peace negotiations with the Finns have already begun to have a ‘demoralizing influence’ on Labour. To accelerate the process,


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I conveyed to Attlee through K.
Possibly Korzh, Maisky’s counsellor.
the details of my démarche of 22 February and its results. This has had its effect. Over the last ten days the Daily Herald has adopted an unusually ‘mild’ position in respect of both the negotiations and the conditions of peace. The Tribune, which had been pursuing an anti-Soviet line on the Finnish question after Cripps’s departure, attacked Halifax the day before yesterday for not exploiting my démarche to improve relations between England and the USSR. Brailsford also emphasizes the British government’s refusal to mediate in today’s Reynolds News.
My conversation with Dalton on 15 March was even more symptomatic. He came for a lunch which I had arranged for Aras and asked afterwards if he could stay on for a private talk. We spoke for about an hour. I understood from the character of our conversation that Dalton was speaking on behalf of the Executive Committee of his party. The essence of Dalton’s ‘démarche’ (for it was a real ‘démarche’) boiled down to the following.
The USSR, according to the prevailing views in the Labour Party, has indeed committed an act of ‘aggression’ towards Finland, but there is no point talking about it anymore: the ‘Finnish chapter’ is closed. Let us accept it as a fact. However, there is a certain nervousness in Labour circles concerning the question: will the USSR allow Finland to develop freely? Will the USSR be satisfied with what it has achieved or will it go further – to Sweden (Kiruna), Norway (Narvik) or Rumania (Bessarabia)? Time will tell. But for the moment Labour would like to conclude its ‘quarrel’ with the Soviet Union and restore the ‘friendly’ relations of before. The following action may serve as proof of Labour’s sincere intentions. After the parliamentary session of 13 March the Liberals and Hore-Belisha pressed on Labour the need to convene a closed session of parliament. Labour refused, understanding that such a session would be entirely devoted to the Finnish question and attacks on the British government for providing Finland with insufficient aid. The Labour Party, meanwhile, is of the view that at the present time too much should not be made of the ‘Finnish question’. One must think about the future, not the past. Consequently, the next session, on 19 March, will be a regular open session and will not be confined to discussion of the Finnish question alone. The House of Commons will discuss various aspects of the conduct of the war. The Labourites themselves are going to speak of Finland as little as possible; they will say just the minimum required to ‘observe proprieties’.
Dalton further stated that Labour categorically objects to a war with the USSR wherever that may be – in the north or in the south – and that it wants an improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations and believes that the British government wishes the same.
In response I related to Dalton the particulars of my talks with Butler on the matter of ‘mediation’ and stressed that the whole episode attests, on the 761contrary,


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to the fact that the British government ‘does not want’ to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. I also expressed my doubts concerning Labour’s position on the question of war with the USSR. Its position on the Finnish question hardly points to a desire to prevent at all costs an armed conflict between England and the Soviet Union.
Dalton started protesting. He insisted that the single aim of Labour was ‘to kill Hitler’ (i.e. the Hitlerite system). To do so, the British and the French should concentrate all their efforts on the struggle with Germany. In fact, Labour would like to be friends with the USSR. Why not resume the Anglo-Soviet trade negotiations that were frozen last year? The USSR, being a neutral country, has every right to trade with both sides. The USSR trades with Germany – why not trade with England, too?
I promised to think it over.
In conclusion, Dalton made a complaint: he had recently been execrated by our press (or on the radio). Why? Wasn’t it he who spared no pains in promoting a tripartite pact last year? And now, since the beginning of the Finnish war, wasn’t he the only Labour leader who had not spoken out against the USSR?
I tried to set his mind at rest. But his sensitivity to our attacks speaks for itself.
Yes, the atmosphere is getting a little warmer. Here is further proof. Guo Taiqi and I went to see the Webbs today. The old couple were very glad to see us, and I joked that they had representatives of a third of mankind at their table today (China – 450 million, and the USSR – 180 million). On the way, Guo Taiqi told me that he had lunched with Churchill the other day. Churchill told him that war with the USSR had been a real possibility. The danger has now passed and Churchill hopes for an improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations. Most interesting.
18 March
Despite the great air of mystery with which Sumner Welles surrounded his mission to Europe, its character is becoming clear. This is what I have managed to glean about it.
Why indeed did Roosevelt decide to send Welles? Because he lacks reliable information about what is going on in Europe. Kennedy is fanatically ‘pro-war’ (he is a typical ‘Munich’ man), and all the information he sends to Washington is tinted accordingly. Phillips
William Phillips, American ambassador to Italy, 1936–41.
(ambassador to Italy) compromised himself in the president’s opinion back in 1938, when he asked Roosevelt for leave on the eve of the Munich Conference, assuring him that all was calm in Europe


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and that no complications were to be expected in the near future. Since then the president has taken a very sceptical view of Phillips’s reports. Finally, the United States has had no ambassador in Germany since the Jewish pogroms in late 1938. So Roosevelt sent Welles to obtain information about the situation in Europe which he could trust.
What task was Welles set? A twofold task. To collect information and to try to find out whether there is any basis for concluding peace in the European war in the near future. Roosevelt is interested in the latter from the point of view of world politics as well as from the point of view of US domestic policy, for he has to decide whether he is going to stand for a third term as president at the elections this year. If peace is possible and near at hand, he will not submit his candidacy; if it is not, he will.
What impressions did Welles gain from his tour of Europe?
(1) Italy. Welles liked Mussolini, who gave him the impression of a man sincerely striving for peace. In Welles’ opinion, Roosevelt should ‘cooperate’ with Mussolini on the issue of ‘peace’. Mussolini’s price for supporting peace is approximately the following: Djibouti, Italy’s representation at the council of the Suez Canal, the settlement of the question of the status of Italians in Tunisia (not Tunisia as such, or, at any rate, not the whole of Tunisia), the internationalization of Gibraltar, and financial aid from the City.
(2) Germany. Contrary to what is written in the newspapers, Hitler was very calm during his meeting with Welles and gave the impression of being a ‘moderate’ person. Welles left Berlin with the notion that Hitler wants peace and is ready to conclude it on approximately the following conditions: a ‘little Poland’ is restored on an ethnographic basis, but it should be deprived of any military significance; Bohemia and Moravia should form a single state entity and be dependent to a certain extent on Germany; Germany gets back its former colonies (in this area Hitler concedes the possibility of various compromises); the Western powers allow Germany, without any interference on their part, to form its own ‘economic empire’ out of Scandinavia, Central and S[outh]-E[astern] Europe on the basis of preferential treatment on the Ottawan model. Hitler also gave Welles to understand that the development of economic relations with the USSR was part of his programme. But Hitler threatened that if peace was not concluded in the near future, he would pursue the war seriously, on the largest scale, and would crush England and France in six months using secret military inventions at his disposal. Of the other German figures, Welles liked Göring best, finding him to be a ‘serious and reasonable man’.
(3) France. The French leaders struck Welles as very belligerent, and at the same time greatly worried among themselves about the course and outcome of the war. He liked Reynaud and Mandel most of all. Welles left Paris with the impression that France was not yet ready for peace.


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(4) England. In London Welles met the king, Chamberlain, Halifax, Simon, Churchill, Eden, Stanley, Attlee, Greenwood, Sinclair and others. In its list of individuals whom it advised Welles to meet, the FO ‘forgot’ Lloyd George. Welles corrected the mistake himself. Then the FO assigned him 30 minutes for a talk with Lloyd George. Welles came to see the old man and talked with him for nearly two hours, totally disrupting the official schedule. Welles said afterwards that compared with all the other conversations he had in London, his conversation with Lloyd George was a ‘breath of fresh air’. Lloyd George recommended that Roosevelt launch a peace initiative and invite Mussolini and the pope to participate. All the other people Welles met in England largely repeated what they always say about the war. Chamberlain made it clear that he was ready to conclude peace ‘at the first opportunity’, but on conditions, of course, which Hitler could hardly find acceptable at present. Churchill told the American guest that he did not quite understand why the USA was so anxious about peace. Churchill expressed himself as follows: ‘A murder has been committed in a house. Two policemen rush to the house and seize the murderer. At that moment a stranger approaches the policemen and urges them to free the murderer. Why? On what grounds? It’s unclear. In any case, if the policemen were to reach the conclusion that the murderer should be freed they would do so themselves, without the interference of a stranger.’ On the whole, London also struck Welles as belligerent, but less so than Paris.
What are Welles’ definitive conclusions? Even he is probably still unable to say. His tour is not quite over. On his way back from London he met Daladier in Paris and talked with Mussolini once more in Rome, where he also paid a visit to the pope. Mussolini must have informed Welles about Ribbentrop’s recent visit to Rome. Welles will be preparing his report and conclusions en route from Genoa to New York. He will refine them in Washington.
Meanwhile I’ve heard that, upon leaving London, Welles expressed the opinion that: (a) neither side will be able to win, and (b) he can as yet see no basis for peace in the near future.
Conversation with Butler on 18 March 1940
(1) I visited Butler to lodge a protest concerning the detention and shelling of the Soviet vessel Vladimir Mayakovsky in the Pacific (near Japan) and to demand its immediate release. I gave Butler details of the ship’s cargo (4,655 tons of copper and 216 tons of molybdenum, to a total value of $1,444,000). I warned Butler that the Soviet government reserves the right to claim compensation for losses and damages. Butler already knew about the seizure of the Vladimir Mayakovsky. He even said that as soon as he received my request for an urgent meeting, he guessed at once what the matter was and made some inquiries this


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morning about the incident. He, Butler, wished to tell me first of all that the vessel had not been ‘shelled’. This is what had actually happened. When British warships signalled to the Mayakovsky to stop, she did not obey the order. The British warships then fired a warning shot across her bows, in keeping with ordinary maritime laws. Butler further said that the Mayakovsky is being sent to Hong Kong for her cargo to be checked, since the Ministry of Economic Warfare harbours serious suspicions that this cargo is intended not for the USSR but for Germany via the USSR. I denied this categorically and stressed that the Mayakovsky’s cargo is intended exclusively for our own domestic needs. I insisted once again that the vessel be freed. Butler replied that he would register our protest, our demand to free the vessel, and our position on compensation. He had also taken into account my statement about the cargo being intended solely for Soviet domestic purposes. Butler promised to communicate once more with the appropriate organs (meaning the Ministry of Economic Warfare) and inform me of the results in a few days’ time, but avoided giving any binding promises. I then enquired about the Selenga and asked how long it would stay in Hong Kong. It was detained more than two months ago and is still unable to leave the port despite my numerous démarches. Butler apologized once again for the delay with the Selenga and said that the British government has no objections of its own to freeing the Selenga, but since the French government is also involved (the tungsten on board the ship was in transit via Indochina) the British have to coordinate their actions with the French, who are resolutely against releasing the cargo. Butler hopes, however, that the British will settle the matter with the French in the very near future and that the Selenga will be freed.
(2) Once we had finished discussing the question of Soviet ships, Butler (as is his wont) seized the opportunity for an exchange of views on some other matters. [Following text omitted as it is a repeat of the above.]
… (4) Having heard Butler out, I asked him a few leading questions in order to find out the reaction of the ‘Allies’ to the basis for peace set out by Hitler and Mussolini in their conversations with Welles. Butler’s feelings could be summed up as follows. Although the British government has quite clearly defined ‘military objectives’ that are known to all, it does not rule out in advance the possibility of peace. It is prepared to take an open minded, unprejudiced approach to any suggested peace conditions. The British government’s main concern is security and a stable order in Europe. It is from this point of view that it is ready to consider the peace proposals advanced by Hitler and Mussolini. It was obvious from Butler’s remarks that of all the points put forward by Hitler and Mussolini, only one is absolutely unacceptable to the British government: the internationalization of Gibraltar. All others are open for discussion, even


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if they require considerable adjustments and modifications, which might be made in the process of negotiations.
(5) It goes without saying that in speaking about European affairs we could not avoid touching on the termination of the Finnish war. Butler said that he did not wish to re-open a discussion about the origins of the war or the conditions of the Soviet–Finnish peace; he was simply content to state that a bone of contention had been removed from Anglo-Soviet relations. He expressed the hope that Anglo-Soviet relations could be improved. In this connection, he returned once again to the matter of the detention of Soviet ships in the Pacific and hinted quite transparently that the best way of resolving difficulties of this kind and even of improving Anglo-Soviet relations would be to return to the trade negotiations that had been scheduled for last September/October. Butler also inquired about the rumours of a ‘tripartite bloc’ of Germany, Italy and the USSR, which Ribbentrop is allegedly trying to create and which is supposedly intended, first and foremost, to regulate the situation in the Balkans. I refuted all these journalistic speculations and reminded Butler of what I had told him about the nature of Soviet–German relations on 22 February. The Soviet Union pursues its own independent foreign policy, and nobody should forget this. At the same time, I drew Butler’s attention to the harm done to Anglo-Soviet relations by the sensationalism of the press, as exemplified by the current speculations about a ‘tripartite bloc’. Butler agreed with me and promised, on his part, to talk to the diplomatic correspondents of the major newspapers (he named The Times and Daily Herald in particular) so that they were more reserved and objective in their accounts of everything concerning the Soviet Union. I don’t know whether this will bring any tangible results. In conclusion, Butler said that Halifax would gladly see me if I had a question important enough to be discussed with the foreign secretary.
[Ironically, Butler, who would now replace Vansittart as Maisky’s ‘ally’ in the Foreign Office, had been the quintessential appeaser and an arch opponent of a triple alliance prior to the conclusion of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact. He remained very much an appeaser after the outbreak of war. He advocated moderation in relation to Russia with the same dogged determination that had characterized his support for appeasement. ‘There is a certain noble purity about British policy,’ he minuted, ‘which tends – provided right is on our side and the human brain dictates the logic of an action – to add one enemy after another to those opposed to us.’ His views now paradoxically coincided with the Kremlin’s new policy of seeking a peace agreement that would bring the war to an early conclusion and establish a new European order, in which the Soviet Union would share hegemony over Europe with a battered Britain and Germany.
In his report, Butler pointed out that Maisky was eager to leave him with ‘the idea that we should satisfy the Germans that we were not interested in the complete


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destruction of the German people’.
Maisky had already told Bernard Pares, the outstanding historian of Russia, that his country was ‘above all things, against an extension of the war … Russia would prefer a negotiated peace to a vindictive one, which would follow the triumph of either side and would bring more wars’; Pares, A Wandering Student, p. 361.
Denying the persistent rumours of a German–Soviet military alliance, Maisky reasserted that it was Soviet policy ‘to remain, if possible at peace’. The USSR did not ‘wish to come under the heel of Germany or to be dragged into further complications with her’. However, he believed it ‘might be possible to make a bargain with [Hitler] whereby the German colonies were restored and in return a certain freedom was given to the Poles and the Czechs’.


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TNA FO 418/86 N3485/40/38 and Maisky’s version of the conversation is in DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 82, and on Welles in doc. 83. In Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 55, Maisky completely misleads his readers into assuming that it was Butler who pressed for the peace, while he ‘never believed that the German-Soviet pact could be long-lived’.
This short-lived but significant complacency, exposing Stalin’s miscalculations, was noted by Beatrice Webb in her frequent meetings with Maisky. On 18 March she found him to be
quietly self confident. The war would end ‘in a draw or in revolution’, in Germany or France and even in Great Britain. Without the sacrifice of millions of men … the Allied forces could not conquer or even invade Germany … Maisky was, in fact, satisfied with the present situation; he was watching the continued stalemate on the western front, with a smile, at the decrepitude of ‘western civilisation’.
He appeared to be ‘distinctly anti-British’ when the British got bogged down in Norway, apparently ‘more amused than offended’ by their hostility now that the Soviet Union was again out of the war.
Webb, diary, 18 March and 12 April 1940, pp. 6845, 6863–4.
]
19 March
I’m just back from Westminster, where parliament was sitting. Dalton was right: the Labourites said little about Finland today, focusing more on other questions related to the conduct of the war. But Finland was on the agenda all the same! Chamberlain spoke almost exclusively of Finland, Sinclair and others spoke about it, too, while Macmillan gave a speech on the subject which, from the government’s point of view, was particularly lethal.
The prime minister insisted that his conscience was clean and that the British government had done all it could for Finland. Even a 100,000-strong Anglo-French expeditionary corps had been readied! Norway and Sweden upset the plans by not allowing the corps to cross their territories. As for the United States, they’d better keep silent: they are far from the theatre of military operations and are risking nothing. What moral right do they have to reproach the British?… This volley in the direction of the USA elicited shouts of approval in the Commons. In general, Chamberlain did not conceal his annoyance with the ‘neutral countries’: they don’t want to do anything themselves, but they’re quite happy to criticize others! In particular, Sweden and Norway have demonstrated their utter short-sightedness and will be punished for that in the course of subsequent events. Chamberlain hinted fairly clearly that from now on the British government would concern itself less with the principles and customs of ‘international law’.


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Irritation with the ‘neutrals’ and the appeal to have done with the ‘fig leaf’ of ‘international law’ was echoed in the speeches of Sinclair, Dalton and others.
As for the attacks on the USSR, there were fewer of them than on the 13th, and the reaction of MPs to them was weaker. In general, while on the 13th parliament conveyed a sense of frustrated impotence, today it was in a state of depression and anxiety. The quick successes of the Red Army on the Karelian Isthmus, as well as the position taken by Sweden and Norway, have upset the calculations of Ironside and Co.
***
I lunched at Beaverbrook’s today. I found him in a state of sheer fury: he is outraged by the ‘11 points’ for peace that have been published in the newspapers. According to Beaverbrook, these points are that very basis upon which Hitler and Mussolini agreed in Brenner.
The humiliating peace offer was made by Hitler during his brief meeting with Mussolini in his train carriage at the Brenner Pass on 18 March. Ostensibly the objective of the talk was to cement the Pact of Steel, as Hitler was preparing the ground for his spring offensive and was seeking Italy’s entry into the war.
‘This is a conqueror’s peace!’ Beaverbrook huffed. ‘We shall never agree to such conditions!’
Beaverbrook thinks that England could wash its hands of Poland and Czechoslovakia, and it could even sacrifice some of its colonies, but it will never recognize Hitler’s right to establish the ‘economic empire’ in Europe about which he spoke with Sumner Welles and which is outlined in the 11 points.
‘You know, I was against war,’ Beaverbrook went on. ‘I wanted an early peace. But now I’m all for the war! I’m in favour of an intensification of the blockade and of the war in the air! I’m ready myself to be a gunman on a plane piloted by my son!’
Beaverbrook is against all sentimentality in war. International law is irrelevant. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!
I have never seen Beaverbrook in such belligerent mood.
Beaverbrook is satisfied with the Soviet–Finnish peace: a dangerous moment in Anglo-Soviet relations has receded and a fresh opportunity for their improvement has arisen. He would like to see such an improvement.
23 March
The Finnish war is over and it seems that things have returned to normal. ‘Normality’, of course, is a highly relative term in this case, considering the severe blockade against Germany, the millions of men stuck fast to the Siegfried and Maginot lines, the black-outs, and the daily toll of torpedoed vessels, but still… Everyone is talking of deadlock at the front, a three-year war, and the slow exhaustion of Germany as the major weapons against ‘Hitlerism’. Yes, normality in this strange Sitzkrieg has undoubtedly returned.


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And yet, I am increasingly gripped by a vague sense of the illusoriness and unreality of everything I see around me.
Parliament sits three times a week… The MPs ask questions, as usual… The ministers read out their answers, as usual… The speaker nods away, as usual, as he sits there in his wig… The departments arrange their conferences and do their paperwork, as usual… The newspapers invent sensational stories and spread high-society gossip, as usual… Shops sell their goods… Bankers count money and deliver their annual reports… Courting couples hide in the parks… Throngs of children play rowdily in the playgrounds… The taxis line up at the cab-stands… Newsboys, shouting at the tops of their voices, sell the evening papers, as usual…
Everything is as it always is. Everyone lives for today, for the petty interests of the hour, the minute. No one thinks of the future, no one tries to look ahead. One’s instinct is to avoid doing so, even if a capricious thought happens to bring one to the verge from which vistas open up into the future. All are especially keen to emphasize that everything is happening in the normal, customary, traditional manner. No novelties. No excesses.
But to me it all seems temporary, unreal, fantastic…
Perhaps I’m wrong, or, at least, not entirely right, but one and the same picture keeps appearing before my mind’s eye.
A gigantic wave. It grows, swells, rises higher and higher. Its dark depths conceal powerful turbulence. Immeasurable forces are gathered and concentrated there. Any moment now and the forces will break through in a catastrophic, irrepressible torrent. Yet while the surface of the wave is still relatively smooth and calm, tiny boats full of passengers sail to and fro over this surface in their normal, habitual order, or rather disorder. The boats make intricate patterns as they come together and drift apart, as the passengers shout out to each other, laugh and argue. Gentlemen court ladies, and the ladies flirt and paint their faces. Coloured handkerchiefs flutter, carefree voices are carried on the breeze. Everything seems eternal, normal, immutable, ordinary… No one thinks of the storm that is ready to strike…
And then, a sudden crash and roar!…
The catastrophe arrives.
27 March
[A cutting from The Times of 27 March 1940, entitled ‘Soviet Union Recalls its Ambassador’, is attached to the diary. It obviously alarmed Maisky. It alleged that Surits had sent Stalin a telegram concerning the French position in the Finnish war which had been intercepted by the censor and was regarded by the French government as interference in its domestic affairs. The French government (which had failed to secure


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British intervention in the war in Finland and was still intent on bombing the Baku oil fields) declared Surits persona non grata. In order to deprive the French of their pretext for severing relations, Molotov (who had always regarded Surits – and Maisky – as accomplices of Litvinov’s) reprimanded him and was only too happy to relieve him of his duties as ambassador in France.
DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, p. 166.
]
An absolutely idiotic story! I don’t know any details about the sending of the telegram (here we never send such things as telegrams en clair) but the French are obviously spoiling for a fight. I can’t understand their policy. What are they counting on?
I spoke to Surits by telephone today. He is going to leave Paris in a few days. It’s not yet been decided who will stay on there. Krapivintsev (counsellor) has been gravely ill with tuberculosis for five months already. He is in a sanatorium and unable to work. Biryukov (first secretary) is in Moscow. A difficult situation.
It was said today in the press department of the Foreign Office that the recall of Surits is a purely French affair, that the British government has absolutely nothing to do with it, and that Anglo-Soviet relations continue as they were. We shall see.
Conversation with Halifax on 27 March 1940
(1) When I received the telegram from Moscow concerning trade negotiations, I was unable to make a corresponding démarche because of the Easter holidays: all officials from the Foreign Office and other departments had left London for the country. I’d been instructed to convey the communication to Butler, but he was away on a ten-day vacation. I therefore decided to approach Halifax direct, all the more so as Halifax had handled all matters relating to the trade talks last autumn. Halifax returned to London on the evening of the 26th and received me on the 27th.
(2) I started by reminding Halifax of the attempt to open trade negotiations during last September/October and of my conversation with Butler on 18 March. I then told him that the Soviet government is ready to open trade negotiations now if the British government genuinely wants this and is minded to seek a satisfactory solution to the problems concerning Soviet–British trade. Naturally, such negotiations can be conducted only in a conducive atmosphere. From this point of view, a most significant step would be for the British government to free the Selenga and Vladimir Mayakovsky prior to the opening of negotiations and to abstain in future from detaining cargos destined for the USSR. Such an action would produce a good impression in Moscow and would be seen as an indication of Great Britain’s readiness to improve trade relations between our countries.


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(3) Having heard me out, Halifax replied that he would consult his colleagues in the Cabinet and the Board of Trade, after which he would have something more definite to say. With reference, however, to the question I had raised of the release of Soviet ships, he found it necessary to make some preliminary remarks. He fully understands the inconvenience caused to the USSR by the detention of its ships and cargoes but, on the other hand, the USSR must understand the position of the ‘Allies’, especially Britain. Britain is fighting for its life with Germany, and the blockade against the latter is one of the key weapons in the war. Therefore, it is vitally important for England to seal all possible channels through which Germany might obtain the means and materials she needs to prosecute the war. It is precisely this point of view which guides the British government in its monitoring of ships sailing to counties adjacent to Germany. The British government makes no exceptions here. The ships of all nations are subject to monitoring, including those of America and Italy, if they follow the routes indicated above. Nothing will change on this score.
(4) I retorted that if England insists on its belligerent rights, the USSR, being neutral, insists on its rights as a neutral state which, as is well known, stipulate the full possibility of free trade with both belligerents. True, the question of the rights of neutrals seems to be ‘out of fashion’ today (Halifax snickered at this point and interjected, ‘That’s not our fault’), but any neutral state has the right to defend its position (‘If it’s a great power,’ Halifax interjected again). This is what the USSR is planning to do, and the British government must take that on board. Halifax replied that the interests of belligerent and neutral countries clash on the issue under discussion, and it is obvious that this conflict can be settled only by way of a compromise. Were it possible to find some way of guaranteeing that certain products are imported by the USSR solely for its domestic needs, the British government would prove much more amenable in the matter of the free passage of our ships and cargoes. The British government has already set such precedents. England has concluded a number of ‘military trade agreements’ with other countries during the war, where a solution to this problem has been found. Similar negotiations are currently under way with other foreign states. I argued that the USSR could not be lumped together with countries with private and capitalist economic systems. In those countries, any individual businessman, guided solely by his private interests, will be ready to re-export any product to Germany for a good price. In this case, the blockading country may perhaps introduce special control measures to prevent ‘leakage’. In the USSR, the situation is quite different. We have a monopoly of foreign trade, and in these conditions only the word of the Soviet government can provide a guarantee in the sense meant by Halifax. Unfortunately, I could see that the British government finds such a guarantee unsatisfactory. I, for example, had stated quite officially that the cargoes carried by the Selenga and Vladimir


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Mayakovsky were destined for the USSR, yet a satisfactory solution to the problem did not follow.
(5) Halifax said that he did, of course, understand the difference between the way trade is organized in the USSR and the way it is done in other countries. The trouble is that relations between the Soviet government and the German government, and their economic relations in particular, are liable to cause the ‘Allies’ great suspicion concerning the eventual recipient of products imported by the USSR. In this connection Halifax once again raided his memory for all sorts of stories about close cooperation, a ‘bloc’ and virtually an ‘alliance’ between Germany and the USSR. I refuted these allegations, ridiculed some of them, and added that the position of the British government struck me as very strange: in the final analysis, the USSR does much less for Germany in the economic field than the USA does for the ‘Allies’. Halifax agreed with this but added: ‘I think the Germans would be only too glad to bring to a halt our imports from America, if they could.’ In the end Halifax repeated that he would report my question to the government and then give me an answer.
(6) Halifax asked me somewhat hesitantly whether I could tell him anything about the general line of Soviet policy today and in the near future. He was interested in Northern Europe and other parts of the world as well. I said I had no instructions from my government to this effect, but I could share my personal considerations with him if he wished me to. I then told him more or less what I told Butler on 22 February. Halifax listened attentively and asked whether the Soviet–Finnish agreement had been ratified. I said it had. Halifax then enquired whether the new Soviet–Finnish borders had been finalized. Not yet, I replied, but a mixed commission was being formed and would get to work soon. Halifax asked how long the commission’s work would take. I replied that I did not know for certain, but, providing there was no unexpected delay, I believed the matter could be settled in a relatively short period of time. Halifax then asked whether we anticipated any complications with the final demarcation of borders. I said that I couldn’t speak for the Finns, but that the Soviet Union is accustomed to carrying out the agreements it concludes. Halifax then asked with a shade of mistrust in his voice: ‘So you don’t have any designs on Sweden or Norway?’ I suppressed a laugh and replied: ‘You may rest assured that we are not aiming for Norway’s Atlantic coast.’ Next, Halifax wanted to know what lay behind the tumult in the German press about a tripartite bloc (Germany, Italy and the USSR) and its Balkan plans. I advised Halifax to be more sceptical about journalistic sensationalism and referred him to what I told Butler about the nature of Soviet–German relations on 22 February. In turn, I asked Halifax about the Allies’ intentions in that part of the globe. For on our side, to put it mildly, there seems to be a lack of clarity in this matter, which does little to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. Halifax avoided the question,


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and instead asked me about the current state of our relations with Rumania and Turkey. I replied that our relations with these countries were quite normal. Halifax further enquired whether we intended to resume the talks with Turkey which had been suspended in October. I pleaded ignorance.
[Halifax, who recognized that an operation in Baku ‘would almost certainly lead to a definite alliance between Germany and the Soviet Union’, instructed the Foreign Office to conduct the negotiations ‘with a stiff upper lip’, in a manner which would not ‘prevent us at a later stage from taking action in the Caucasus, should the Turks agree to co-operate with us there’. Finally, it was only the German attack on France that put a seal on the operation, which might indeed have culminated in Britain finding itself at war with Germany and Russia.
Records of the meeting in TNA FO 371 24839 N3706/5/38, DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 100 and Maisky’s draft in RAN f.1702 op.3. d.112 ll.7–11. On Halifax’s views, see TNA FO 371 24846 N3698/40/38, 25 March, and 24888 R4467/5/67, record of the meeting of British heads of missions from South-East Europe, 8 April 1940. The most enlightening survey of the episode is in T. Imlay, ‘A reassessment of Anglo-French strategy during the phony war, 1939–40’, English Historical Review, cxix, April (2004), pp. 364–72.
]
28 March
The diplomatic correspondent of the Observer, G. Glasgow (who suddenly reappeared at the embassy today after a break of nearly four months) set out before me the following outlook for the war.
The war on the western front and at sea is at a stalemate. If the situation does not change, the war may last for years without being resolved, while exhausting the belligerent states. It is imperative to effect a drastic change. How? The ‘Allies’ must switch to ‘total war’. What does that mean? It means they must launch a furious offensive in the air and by sea, disregarding the rights of neutral states. The Allies will sink German ships in territorial waters and fly to Germany and the Baltic Sea across neutral territories. If need be, they will use these territories to land or to transport their troops. And if people accuse them of aggression? Let them. It doesn’t matter. What matters is to save the Empire; how this is to be done is secondary. Britain has been engaged in aggression for 400 years. It was the world’s greatest aggressor in the past. If necessary, England can still provide lessons in aggression such as to turn Hitler green with envy. Such sentiments are on the increase in the country and they will soon be manifest in practice. The French government, Reynaud in particular, takes the same view. As this mood grows, the evaluation of the Soviet Union’s conduct in the Finnish conflict is changing.
Of course, Glasgow is a man who gets easily carried away, and not all of his words should be taken at face value, but his reasoning is highly symptomatic.
***
Sylvester, Lloyd George’s personal secretary, told me the following story.
In 1917 (Sylvester was already working for Lloyd George at that time) Lloyd George appointed Neville Chamberlain as director of the department responsible for conscription. The army needed men badly. Great hopes were


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pinned on the department. Chamberlain approached the task with the methods and horizons appropriate to a lord mayor of Birmingham, such as he had just been. Chamberlain chose as his permanent undersecretary a Birmingham town clerk, a certain Smith. Smith was a man of little calibre who had not the slightest idea of London life, the machinery of government, the methods of work essential in wartime, etc. But Chamberlain acted wholly in compliance with the advice of his permanent undersecretary. It quickly transpired that the department was unable to provide the army with the necessary number of conscripts. Lloyd George was greatly displeased and asked Bonar Law and Austen Chamberlain to exert their influence on Neville Chamberlain. They tried several times, but to no avail. Neville would invariably answer that he should be guided in his job ‘by the counsels of Mr Smith’. Lloyd George finally lost his patience and yelled at Neville: ‘Get out! Get out you and your Mr Smith!’
Chamberlain had to leave the department in disgrace. He has not forgotten it to this day. That is why Sylvester thinks it improbable that Lloyd George might enter a Cabinet headed by Chamberlain. Nothing less than absolutely extraordinary circumstances would force Chamberlain to allow this.
***
Randolph Churchill is one of those who have recently reappeared on my horizon. His visits used to be a frequent occurrence, and his telephone calls even more so. After the war began, when he became an officer in a tank battalion stationed in the provinces, Randolph would drop by every time he visited London. But after the beginning of the Finnish war he disappeared and I had no news of him for three and a half months. Last week, once peace had been concluded with the Finns, Randolph called on me out of the blue. Just the other day he visited me again, and brought his young wife to me (he married at the very start of the war). This is significant. Even more telling is the change in Randolph’s mood: when hostilities began he boasted of an easy victory, but now he displays great anxiety about the course and outcome of the war.
29 March
Everyone is speculating about Hitler’s meeting with Mussolini in Brenner. Today Aras pronounced himself convinced that the Balkans were ‘carved up’ in Brenner: Rumania to Germany, Yugoslavia to Italy. It’s possible. But Aras gets carried away all too easily and he is also a great schemer. That is why I always take his judgements with a pinch of salt. It seems to me that the talks in Brennero focused on much more serious matters than the Balkans.
Aras is sceptical about the war. There was a time when he was even predicting an early peace. Today he announced that the chances of war continuing


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beyond September are even, 50:50. In Aras’s opinion, neither side desires war. That is why he believes that peace is not far off. But, should peace fail to arrive, all-out war would ensue, with damaging consequences for neutral states and international law.
The other day Aras saw Halifax, who told him that the Allies would never initiate war in the Balkans themselves. On the other hand, they would respond with force to a German strike. Weygand’s
Maxime Weygand, chief of the general staff and vice president of the Superior War Council of France, 1931–35; commander-in-chief of the Allied forces in France, 1940; Algerian governor-general in French North Africa, 1940–41.
army is intended for just that purpose, acting as a strategic reserve in the event of a German attack in the direction of the Balkans.
Aras assured me repeatedly that Turkey would not allow herself or her territory to be used against the USSR. He considers the idea of an air attack on Baku nonsensical. A ‘gentlemen’s agreement’, modelled on the Anglo-Italian agreement of 2 January 1937, should be concluded between Turkey and the USSR.
I asked what Turkey would do in the event of a German attack on the Balkans. Aras replied that Turkey would undoubtedly support the Allies. I then asked: ‘Would Turkey allow Allied warships through to the Black Sea?’
Aras avoided the question, arguing that so long as the USSR remained neutral there would be no need for the Allies to sail their warships through the straits. But as for vessels carrying Allied troops bound, for example, for Rumania, Turkey would allow these to pass.
1 April
This is what I’ve managed to learn about the meeting of the Supreme War Council held on 28 March.
Reynaud pointed out the difficulty of his position and, in order to strengthen his reputation in France, demanded that the war be fought with greater intensity and that the Allies pursue a more ‘energetic policy’. As a result, the following measures were taken:
(1) A declaration was published about the joint policies of the Allies not only during the war, but afterwards as well. This is aimed at easing French suspicions about the possibility of a separate deal between the British and the Germans. Rumours to this effect were afloat in France in connection with Sumner Welles’ visit.
(2) It was decided to intensify the blockade by toughening up quota restrictions for neutral countries (such restrictions are in principle stipulated in most of the ‘military trade agreements’ concluded by the British government


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with the neutrals, but in practice they have so far been applied relatively liberally); through more stringent supervision of imports along the routes Holland–Belgium, Spain–Italy and USA–Vladivostok; and by taking more drastic measures to stop Germany importing iron ore from Scandinavia. In the first instance, diplomatic notes are to be sent to Sweden and Norway, after which the territorial waters of Norway are to be mined. In this way the transportation of Swedish ore via Narvik will be terminated. In order to stop or at least obstruct the transportation of ore along the route Lulea–Germany, plans have been drafted to carry out air operations over the Baltic Sea and to send British submarines there.
(3) The decision was taken not to initiate a war in the Near East for now because the conditions there are not yet ripe and because the Allies are not prepared for serious operations in this part of the globe (the Allied forces are inadequate in quantity and quality, the difficulties of transportation are immense, and material and human reserves are lacking). The purpose of the conferences of British and French ambassadors and envoys scheduled for 8 April in the Near East and the Balkans (the decision to hold them was taken before the meeting of the Council) is not only to inform London and Paris about the state of affairs in the corresponding countries, but also to outline plans to ‘intensify’ Allied activity in this part of the world and to demonstrate to the relevant countries that the British and French governments are determined to pursue an ‘energetic’ policy. Its main concrete manifestation for the time being will be the launching of an economic offensive in the Balkans.
(4) The ‘Russian question’ was discussed at length at the Council meeting. Here too Reynaud insisted on ‘decisive measures’, including the severance of relations with the USSR. He said there was a strong tendency in France (Laval, Bonnet, Flandin and others) advocating a rupture with us and even war. The English spoke out against extreme measures. Halifax reported my démarche of 27 March and suggested opening trade negotiations and ‘examining’ the possibility of an agreement with the USSR. All the more so as the British government was counting on getting essential products from the USSR (timber in particular). Reynaud was categorically against negotiations. No decision was taken, and further discussions will follow between London and Paris. As a sop to the French, the British handed over to them the Selenga and Vladimir Mayakovsky. Attlee and Greenwood told Halifax the other day that Labour was unanimously in favour of opening trade negotiations with us. Halifax replied that the question was under discussion. Although the Supreme War Council has not formally forbidden the British from entering into negotiations with the USSR, the British government still has to reckon with the feelings of its ‘brave ally’.


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2 April
The effect of C[omrade] Molotov’s speech at the Supreme Soviet on 29 March will, without doubt, be a positive one.
Molotov’s speech at the Supreme Soviet dealt with Soviet–Finnish relations and the reaction, particularly in France and Great Britain, to the war. It stated the USSR’s firm determination to pursue a policy of neutrality and to ensure the restoration and maintenance of world peace, while the country herself prepared economically and militarily for any eventuality. The speech may have been prompted by Maisky, following the advice he had received from Trevelyan that it was ‘a matter of quite first-class importance that, as soon as the settlement with Finland has been reached, a full statement should be made to the world by the Soviet government … The more frank and far-reaching that statement the greater would be its value for preventing any later extension of the war into an attack on Russia’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1616 l.21, 13 March 1940.
His statement will certainly make life harder for those elements abroad opposed to us, especially in England and France. Beaverbrook is simply delighted. He called me and shouted down the telephone: ‘Molotov is for isolation! Wonderful! This conforms with British interests.’
The meaning of Beaverbrook’s words is clear. Over the last couple of months the general consensus in England has been that the USSR is an ‘ally of Germany’. Even Butler has expressed such fears. In the past few weeks, the press has kicked up a lot of fuss about a ‘tripartite totalitarian bloc’ (Germany, Italy and the USSR) on the Balkan question. The ‘Allied’ countries have interpreted C[omrade] Molotov’s speech in the following way: no ‘alliance’ exists between Moscow and Berlin; the USSR maintains its independent policy, and this independent policy is neutrality. What could be better?… The nightmare oppressing the souls of London and Paris is no more.
There are, however, sceptics. Some say: ‘Neutrality… hmm… What sort of neutrality? There are many sorts of neutrality.’
These people think it better to wait and see than to start clashing cymbals.
Nonetheless, the fundamental response of public opinion is in our favour. Labour, the Liberals, Beaverbrook, Garvin, Layton – all affirm that the new opportunity should be taken to improve relations with Moscow and forestall the possibility of Moscow ‘sliding’ towards Germany.
***
Subbotić, who has just returned from Belgrade, came over to see me yesterday. He had much of interest to tell.
First of all, Belgrade has finally decided, according to Subbotić, to restore relations with the Soviet Union. The first step will be taken via either London or Ankara. Not only is the government in favour, but also Prince Paul and Maček
Vladko Maček, leader of the Croatian Peasant Party in Yugoslavia, 1928–41; deputy prime minister, 1939–41.
(leader of the Croats). The reason for the change lies in the dangerous position of Yugoslavia and, in particular, in the suspicious behaviour of Italy. The Yugoslav government found out recently that the organizers of ‘communist demonstrations’ in various Dalmatian towns have connections with Rome. At the same time, Italian diplomats in Belgrade and other capitals have let it be known ‘semi-officially’ (but quite plainly) that Italy will not tolerate the emergence of ‘communism’ in the Adriatic. It all looks like trouble. Yugoslavia has had to reconsider its policy in a hurry and look for new sources of support


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on the international scene. Hence the idea of rapprochement with the USSR. In what form? The Yugoslav government would be prepared to restore diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, but it is somewhat concerned about how Italy would react to such a step. That is why the Yugoslav government would rather start with a half-measure, the signing of a trade agreement, and then, at the first opportunity, arrange an exchange of envoys.
Second, the internal situation in Yugoslavia has become significantly more stable. The rapprochement between Serbs and Croats is working well. The Croats are unhappy about one issue – the timing of the parliamentary elections – but its significance will not prove especially great. All Yugoslavs, without exception, are united by one and the same passion: to avoid war! This desire is above all internal arguments and disagreements.
I questioned Subbotić about Yugoslavia’s relations with Germany and other states. He says that so far Germany has been behaving in an appropriate manner and carrying out the trade agreement with Yugoslavia to the letter, while the German minority in Yugoslavia has been keeping a low profile. Will this last? Who knows?
The economic role of Germany in Yugoslavia is enormous: 60% of Yugoslav foreign trade is with Germany, no more than 12% with France, and only 5% with England. The figures speak for themselves.
Subbotić says that rumours of a tripartite bloc aimed at the Balkans caused great anxiety in Belgrade, but C[omrade] Molotov’s speech has dispelled it. Now there is another priority: the improvement of relations between the USSR and Turkey.
4 April
Lloyd George is a truly extraordinary wordsmith! He possesses the rare skill of being able to characterize a man, phenomenon or event with a single word or image, with often lethal consequences for his opponents.
I remember in particular the following episode. In June 1937, Chamberlain, who had just been appointed prime minister and was testing the ground for a long period of ‘appeasement’, made his first speech in parliament. He spoke of the gathering thunder-clouds, the tense international situation and the need to keep a cool head so as not to provoke a catastrophe with an incautious step. The PM employed a metaphor in this connection: he spoke of avalanches of snow in the mountains which had sometimes been caused by movements in the air from a human voice. Chamberlain’s speech certainly made an impression in the House, generating a serious and anxious mood.
Lloyd George spoke next. He declared himself profoundly disappointed with the prime minister’s speech. The situation is serious indeed, and Lloyd


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George sketched a menacing picture of the international situation in a few vivid strokes. But how does Chamberlain propose countering the impending danger?
Lloyd George, standing at the dispatch box on the side of the opposition, shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, jerked his left leg (he was in the habit of doing so when he spoke in parliament), pulled his pince-nez off his nose, waved it about contemptuously, and said in measured tones: ‘The prime minister recommends us to keep a cool head.’
Then he flashed his pince-nez as if it were a sword pulled from its sheath, cast a scathing look at Chamberlain opposite him, and let fly: ‘Any fish can have a cool head!’
The effect was extraordinary: the House resounded with peals of raucous, irrepressible laughter. Everybody was laughing – on the Labour, Liberal and Tory benches. The impression made by Chamberlain’s speech was instantly dispelled. And the ‘Old Wizard’ shouted in a stentorian voice: ‘We need not cool heads but courageous hearts!’
The audience burst into tumultuous applause.
Something similar happened in parliament yesterday. The morning papers announced changes in the government. In fact, the changes amount to an echo of Krylov’s
Ivan Andreevich Krylov, Russian poet and fabulist of the early nineteenth century. The fable produces the comments of a wise nightingale on the unsuccessful efforts of a tricksy monkey, a goat, an ass and a bandy-legged Mishka bear to play a quartet through changes in their seating positions: ‘To be a musician, one must have a better ear and more intelligence than any of you. Place yourselves any way you like; it will make no difference. You will never become musicians.’
fable ‘The Quartet’. The only serious change is putting Churchill in charge of the armed forces of Great Britain, although even here Chamberlain tried to put a spoke in his wheel (for instance, by appointing Samuel Hoare as secretary of state for air). This reshuffle actually satisfies nobody and has been criticized quite sharply both in the press and in the corridors of the House. In the evening, agriculture came up for discussion again in parliament. Lloyd George lambasted the government for neglecting this sphere and declared:
[There follows a newspaper cutting entitled ‘Mr Lloyd George on “Rabbit Jumps”’:
Mr Lloyd George (Caernarvon, Opp. L.) said that the House ought to have some sort of idea of what the agricultural policy of the country was going to be. (Hear, hear.) There had been too much, in our war preparations, of doing a thing just a little, and then finding that not enough and doing a little more. We had been getting on with what might be called rabbit jumps – (laughter) – a little jump, then a nibble: then another little jump and another nibble. (Laughter.) [underlined by Maisky] In the end we might find ourselves one day in a position with regard to food production when it would not be adequate for the need that would suddenly confront us.]


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Another rapier thrust, and a very good one! The ‘rabbit jumps’ policy – no one could have made a more exact or more devastating two-word diagnosis of British government policy over recent years, particularly since Chamberlain came to power.
5 April
The Shaws came to lunch with us today. We hadn’t seen the old couple for several months. They are still vigorous, especially he, but their health is beginning to fail them. No wonder: he is 83 and she is even older. But Shaw’s verve, memory and interest in events are still amazing. There were just the four of us at table (which, we discovered at the end, pleased the old couple). These were the best circumstances for a talk and Shaw plunged into reminiscences of the distant past. He accompanied his vivid account with much gesticulation.
In the eighties, after we had just set up the Fabian Society, a May Day meeting was arranged in Hyde Park. I was the chairman and the speaker. When the meeting was over I set off across the park through the crowd. Suddenly, I was stopped by a bearded man of medium height in a brown suit. Congratulating me on the successful meeting, he asked: ‘Do you know me?’ I had the feeling that I had met him before, but could not recall where and when. I responded with the customary banality that his face was very familiar to me but that I couldn’t remember the circumstances of our meeting. The bearded man laughed and said in a genial voice: ‘No, you don’t know me. I’m Friedrich Engels.’ So that’s what Engels looks like, I thought. I had heard a lot about him, but we had never met. The next May Day I spoke in Hyde Park again. And again Engels came up to me and asked jokingly: ‘Well, do you recognize me now?’ ‘But of course I recognize you! You are the great Engels!’ I cheerfully exclaimed and shook his hand firmly.
When asked by Agniya whether he had met Engels in less public circumstances, the old man replied: ‘No, we never met privately. In subsequent years I saw Engels a few times at various international congresses, but we were never intimately acquainted. Engels lived a very secluded life at that time, mainly in his study, and had no direct contact with the British workers’ movement.’
From Engels the conversation turned to Marx. Shaw had never met Marx. He died before Shaw joined the socialist movement. But he knew Marx’s daughter Eleanor, called Tussy in the family.
‘She was a striking brunette,’ Shaw recounted, ‘lively and extremely intelligent. She knew several languages to perfection. Often used to interpret


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at international conferences and congresses. But she was a very “partial” interpreter: she translated the speeches of “her people” with a brilliance lacking in the original versions (she was a superb speaker herself), but made her “adversaries” seem like fools, which they were not. I noticed this and began insisting on paid and “non-party” translators for our congresses.’
Shaw’s face clouded over briefly and he continued in a more subdued tone: ‘Eleanor became involved with Aveling.
Edward Aveling, a prominent ‘Darwinist’, he was a founder of the Socialist League and the Independent Labour Party.
Have you heard the name?’
I nodded.
‘I don’t know what they had in common. Aveling was a strange man. I have no doubt that he was a convinced socialist and atheist who would go to the scaffold for his convictions, but he was a man of rather low morals in ordinary life.’ (A scoundrel, Shaw added.)
A university professor, he coached university entrants, preferring girls (women had just been admitted to study at universities). Aveling usually took payment for 12 lessons in advance, borrowed more money from his students, and gave them one lesson only. When the students lost patience there were scandals, but Aveling never returned their money. Once he came to me and asked me for five pounds. As I knew Aveling well, I refused to lend him so much as a penny. He tried every means of persuading me and finally declared: ‘You may be quite sure you’ll get my debt back. If you present my receipt to Eleanor two months from now and tell her that I’ll end up in prison if she doesn’t pay, she’ll immediately give you the money.’ I was quite disgusted and threw Aveling out of the house.
Shaw paused and then continued:
Poor Eleanor! She committed suicide. It happened like this. Eleanor and Aveling lived together without ever being wed in church. Aveling had a lawful wife with whom he didn’t live, and this made a formal marriage with Eleanor impossible. When Aveling’s wife died, her family, who hated Eleanor, did all they could to hurt her even after the wife’s death. In the obituary which they published in the newspapers it was mentioned that the deceased was Aveling’s lawful wife in order to emphasize Eleanor’s unlawful status. Be that as it may, Aveling was now a free man. Eleanor, being a woman of progressive views and noble character, did not insist for a moment on legalizing their long relationship. She was quite happy


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for them to continue as they were. And do you know what Aveling did? Now that he was free, he deserted Eleanor and married another woman. Eleanor, who had already suffered greatly from Aveling’s behaviour in the past, could not endure this final blow and took her own life. When I wrote my play Doctor’s Dilemma, I used much of what I knew about Aveling’s character and escapades.
Shaw paused again before adding:
There was also that wonderful woman, Helene…
Helene ‘Lenchen’ Demuth.
You know about her, I’m sure. She worked as a sort of maid in Marx’s house. It always made me laugh that Marx, who devoted his entire life to the proletariat, actually knew only one proletarian, Helene, whom he didn’t even pay!… Yes, Marx’s finances were nearly always in an awful state. It was a real tragedy. Marx’s wife was at times driven mad with despair. But even though Helene did not receive a salary, she was eventually rewarded: her name is inscribed on Marx’s tomb.
It has been rumoured, but never proven, that she bore Marx an illegitimate son, whom Engels chivalrously declared to be his own; S. Padover (ed.), On Education, Women, and Children (New York, 1975), p. xxv.
Agniya noted that Engels often helped Marx, and that their friendship was something absolutely unique.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Shaw, ‘their friendship was remarkable, which was surprising given that Marx was so difficult to get on with. Now there was a man with a temper!’
Shaw leaned back in his chair and laughed:
I remember one story. Hyndman,
Henry Mayers Hyndman.
Marx’s pupil and admirer, published his first socialist book, England for All. It had many borrowings from Marx and no references to him. Marx was furious with Hyndman and made a scene. But Hyndman’s wife Matilda told everybody afterwards that the real reason for the quarrel lay elsewhere. Leaving Marx’s place, Hyndman put on Marx’s hat by mistake, which turned out to be an exact fit. ‘You see,’ Matilda would say, ‘Marx cannot resign himself to the fact that someone may have a head no worse than his own.’
Shaw roared with laughter. ‘Hyndman had an interesting life,’ he continued.
He and Matilda lived very long and, when Matilda died, Hyndman was already old. Nevertheless, soon after this happened he married a young


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woman, Rosalind Travers, who was madly in love with him. Rosalind outlived Hyndman only by a single year. She was beside herself with grief and languished without him. Would you believe it, although she was an atheist, she finally committed suicide hoping to meet her husband ‘in heaven’. I don’t know why she thought Hyndman had a place reserved for him in heaven. But that’s what Rosalind wrote in her final letter.
Shaw glanced at his wife and said half-jokingly: ‘Rosalind wrote to me a few times after Hyndman’s death. Maybe I was partly responsible for her death. Had I reciprocated her feelings, perhaps she would still be alive now… But my heart was already taken!’
Shaw made a gallant gesture towards his wife.
Then Shaw recalled [a passage is missing].
Shaw then turned to reminiscences of the more recent past.
Shaw visited the USSR with the Astors and Lothian in 1931 and they were received by C[omrade] Stalin. Louis Fischer was their interpreter. M.M. [Litvinov] was also present.
Nancy Astor was, of course, the first to attack C[omrade] Stalin. Lady Astor tried to prove to him that children were brought up in the wrong way in the USSR. She gave an example. She had just visited a kolkhoz school. She didn’t like it: the children were dressed too finely and they were too clean. That’s unnatural. Children should be dirty – that’s how they’re meant to be – except at table. And they should be dressed very simply: just a piece of cloth that can be washed and dried in half an hour. Highly agitated, Nancy said to C[omrade] Stalin: ‘Send a sensible woman to me in England and I’ll teach her how to treat children.’
C[omrade] Stalin smiled and asked her to give him her address. Nancy gave it. Shaw thought this was mere courtesy on C[omrade] Stalin’s part, so he was greatly astonished when he later discovered, once he was already back home, that not one but twelve women had visited Lady Astor from the USSR.
Lothian, in his turn, started explaining to C[omrade] Stalin that the British Liberal Party had split in two. The part led by Simon had sided with the Conservatives, while the other part was at the crossroads. In Lothian’s view, that second faction, led by Lloyd George, might, after the necessary schooling, become the British party of scientific socialism. He therefore proposed that the S[oviet] G[overnment] invite Lloyd George to visit the USSR.
C[omrade] Stalin was astonished at Lothian’s suggestion. There followed a quick exchange of opinions in Russian between C[omrade] Litvinov and C[omrade] Stalin, in which Shaw picked up just one word, ‘Wrangel’,
Petr Nikolaevich Wrangel, lieutenant general; commander of the anti-Bolshevik ‘white’ forces in southern Russia, 1918–20.
after which C[omrade] Litvinov replied that, since Lloyd George had been prime


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minister in the period of intervention, the Soviet government would find it difficult to invite him to the USSR, but that if Lloyd George wanted to make a private visit, he would be assisted in every possible way and acquainted with everything that interested him.
With his natural bent for paradox, Shaw asked: why not arrange a visit to the USSR for Churchill, too?
C[omrade] Stalin laughed and said he would be glad to meet Churchill.
Lord Astor
Lord Waldorf Astor, politician and newspaper proprietor who, with his wife, Nancy Astor, shared a deep reverence for the Empire and for social reform; chairman of the Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1935–49.
was next. He delivered a conciliatory speech, stating that in general British public opinion was not hostile to the Soviet Union. Lord Astor was in a very radical mood in Moscow. He felt almost as if he were a ‘Bolshevik’, and wore shirts with short sleeves. He wanted to say something that would please C[omrade] Stalin.
C[omrade] Stalin turned to Shaw and asked him what he thought of Astor’s statement. Shaw laughed and said: ‘In my country, Ireland – I’m Irish, not English, you know – they still sing a song which Cromwell is alleged to have sung: “Put your trust in God, But keep your powder dry.” So I’d say: I don’t know whether you trust in God – I think not – but I advise you from the bottom of my heart: Keep your powder dry!’
Shaw eventually managed to see Krupskaya.
Nadezhda Konstantinovna Krupskaya, Lenin’s wife; member of the Collegium of the People’s Commissariat for Education, 1917–39.
She avoided meeting him at first, but in the end she agreed, and Shaw visited her at the summer house in the country where she was taking a holiday. They spent two hours together, talking in French. From the photographs he had seen, Shaw had expected to meet a plain, if not ugly woman, but he was very pleasantly surprised. He found Nadezhda Krupskaya to be simply fascinating. He had never met a woman who had charmed him as quickly as she.
6 April
Another Cabinet reshuffle! Same old, same old. It’s been done on the principle of Krylov’s ‘Quartet’. I can’t help quoting that writer of fables: ‘My friends, you can change places all you want, But you’ll never make musicians.’
Yet, there is one noteworthy thing about the reshuffle, which is significant not so much for the present as for the future: a trend that might have great consequences. I mean the new role of Churchill. He has been appointed president of a committee consisting of the war, naval and air ministers and the chiefs of staff. Churchill is thus theoretically responsible now for the conduct of war. But… Hoare has been made secretary of state for air in the latest reshuffle.


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That is, Chamberlain is putting his own man in the committee to sabotage Churchill’s activity. Yet the trend remains, and it will probably manifest itself fully earlier than we expect. In times of war all processes develop at a feverish pace. We shall see.
Churchill is better than Chamberlain from the point of view of Anglo-Soviet relations. True, he attacked communism in his recent speech on the radio (30 March), but this is not very important. Churchill has never been a friend of communism. Besides, his speech was broadcast in the United States and he had to play up to the American audience. What matters most is that Churchill regards Germany as Enemy No. 1, and proceeding from that position he is ready to do anything, even to improve relations with the Soviet Union.
Maisky was actively engaged in restoring Churchill’s standing in Moscow after his Finnish ‘relapse’; DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 110, telegram to Molotov, 5 April 1940.
8 April
I would sum up the Allies’ intentions concerning a major war in the following way.
The Allies do not intend to launch large-scale military operations this year, provided the Germans do not initiate them themselves and provided the state of the domestic front in England and France does not demand such action. They are not planning major operations either in the west or the east (there are not enough forces, their quality leaves much to be desired, reserves are lacking, and there are many transportation difficulties). Moreover, neither the Balkan countries nor Turkey want to be turned into battlefields. Italy’s position is obscure and threatening.
In the meantime the Allies intend to step up the blockade, with no regard for the rights of neutral countries. Gloves off. The mining of Norwegian waters announced today is just the beginning. Various measures aimed at stopping the transportation of iron ore from Sweden to Germany are to be expected in the Baltic Sea (air raids, submarine operations, etc.). Also to be expected is stricter supervision of the maritime trade routes Belgium–Holland, Spain–Italy and USA–Vladivostok, and tougher quota restrictions for neutrals’ imports.
Yet another measure is the founding of the English Commercial Corporation, headed by Lord Swinton with government capital, in order to compete with Germany on neutral markets, above all in the Balkans. Previously the British talked a great deal about this sort of competition, but did little. Now they seem to be getting down to it.
***
I saw Colban. The old man is absolutely stunned by the news of the mining of Norwegian waters. He hadn’t expected anything of the sort. He says the British government’s note, handed to the Norwegian government on 5 April, did not


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portend such a move. The British government merely outlined its general view of the state of affairs in Scandinavia and stated that England would not be able to remain indifferent should a threat arise to Norway’s Atlantic coast from Germany or the USSR. Submitting the note, Halifax tried long and hard to convince Colban that England ‘is waging the war of the neutrals’, to which Colban allegedly replied that England was in fact fighting for its Empire, and that Norway felt it had nothing bad to fear from the USSR. Saying all this, Colban was preoccupied by just one question: how will Germany respond to the mining of Norwegian territorial waters? But he had nothing lucid to say about this.
[Maisky’s standing had hit rock bottom not only in England but – far more alarmingly – also in Moscow. The dismissal of Surits encouraged Molotov to clip Maisky’s wings. A series of harsh letters from Fedor Gusev,
The archetype of Stalin’s and Molotov’s new diplomat, Fedor Tarasovich Gusev graduated from the Institute of Soviet Construction and Law and worked in the Economic Planning Commission of the Leningrad region. With the repressions in Narkomindel in full swing, he underwent a crash course in diplomacy. His party loyalty landed him a brilliant career in Narkomindel, where, by 1938, at the age of 35, he had become the director of its West European department. He was appointed the Soviet ambassador in Canada in 1942 before replacing Maisky in London in 1943. Sir Archibald Clark Kerr, the British ambassador in Moscow, characterized him as ‘a rude, inexperienced and bad-mannered fellow’.
director of the western department of Narkomindel, severely criticized Maisky’s diplomatic work. He was instructed to restrict his encounters to top officials, and to obtain all necessary information from the media. Fulfilment of those instructions would have robbed him of his trump card – his prolific circle of interlocutors. Finding himself up against the wall, Maisky resorted not to his customary survival strategy of intricate manoeuvring and flattery, but rather to confrontation. What follows are some very intriguing excerpts from a nine-page visionary ‘lecture’ to Gusev on diplomacy in general and on its peculiarities in England. Though an apologia, it was just as much a lament on the vanishing vision of modern diplomacy, of which he was now virtually the sole survivor:
(Undated but early April 1940) … The most important and substantive element in the work of every ambassador is the actual contact he has with people. It is not sufficient to read the newspapers – that can be done in Moscow. It is not enough to work with books and statistical reports – that, too, can be done in Moscow … An ambassador without excellent personal contacts is not worthy of the name. Every country has its peculiarities. The nature and number of the contacts differ in accordance with the varying political, economic and individual conditions of each state. There cannot be a single template in such matters. What is acceptable in Paris may be completely unsuited to Tokyo, and vice versa … In the case of England, the creation of these vital personal contacts is extremely difficult and requires a great deal of the ambassador’s time …


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In order to be au courant with what is happening in different areas of English life, it is not enough to know one or two people in each group … It is quite simply not enough to have contacts with, for example, the secretary for foreign affairs and his deputy, but also one needs to know the head of the northern department of the FO, for the USSR falls within his sphere of competence … It is necessary to maintain contact with around 15–20 people in the FO alone, and of course our work requires us to have business with other ministries: the Ministry of Trade, of Finance, of the Economy, of Defence and so on.
Or else, to take another example, consider parliament and the political parties. This is an extremely important element of English political life. It is most useful to attend the more important sittings of parliament (which works for about eight months of the year): you get an exceedingly accurate impression of the current mood of the country. But this is not enough. If you wish to be well informed of the different areas of interior and exterior policy, then you need to be in personal contact with a significant number of MPs. Of course, it is inconceivable, as well as unnecessary, to maintain relations with all 615 MPs. But let us say that you do need to know around a hundred MPs from all the different parties. Here is yet another example: the press. This is an extremely complex and active group, with an immense number of people belonging to it. The people are capricious and don’t stand on ceremony. They come to you with all sort of questions, surveys and clarifications – personally, or else by telephone, at any hour of the day or night … In order to maintain normal contacts with the press, one needs to know about 50 people. I am not going to enumerate the relations one needs to have with the other groups. The preceding examples are sufficient. I will, however, add that, in the English environment, the diplomatic corps plays a comparatively minor role. I have made the calculations and come to the conclusion that, if the ambassador wants to fulfil his duties as they should be fulfilled, then he needs to maintain contact with at least 500 people (if we include the representatives of all the groups mentioned above). Now, as for the nature of these contacts. What does it mean to maintain a contact? Certainly it is not enough to have a nodding acquaintance with a man, and to meet him once or twice a year at some official function or in the corridors of parliament. You will get precisely nothing from such contacts. The sort of contact which can be useful from our point of view must be a much closer contact. This means that you must meet the person more or less regularly, invite him to breakfast or dinner, visit him at home, take him to the theatre from time to time, go when necessary to the wedding of his son or his daughter, wish him many happy returns on his birthday, sympathize with him when he is ill. It is only when your acquaintance has come a little closer to you (and Englishmen need to scrutinize someone for quite some time before they count him among their ‘friends’) that his tongue starts to loosen, and only then may you start to glean things from him, or else start to put the necessary ideas into his head. … How should an embassy work to maintain contacts? It is normally the case that every English ‘circle’ of interest to us can be divided into a number of sectors … and every comrade will be expected to maintain and widen his knowledge of


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the sector, to meet the relevant people, to have breakfast or dinner with them (in England, all meetings usually take place at table – over breakfast, at tea, at dinner, etc.), to give them the information it is decided to give them, to nudge them in a direction favourable to us. But this work does not have any clear boundaries.
So far as our own London embassy is concerned, the situation over the last year has been as follows: to all intents and purposes all contacts with foreigners have been in the hands of two people, myself and Comrade Korzh. Comrade Popov’s poor grasp of the language means that he can be of no use to us. Comrade Zonov has been weighed down with consular work, as well as with the business of the Soviet school in London and the summer camp for the children. Our two interns – Comrades Krainsky
Anatoly (Ariel) Markovich Krainsky, secretary at the Soviet embassy in Great Britain, 1939–44.
and Mikhailov – could not be used for external work, because they are not yet official diplomats. Also, Mikhailov came to London without knowing the language. As a result of this, I repeat that all our contacts have been in the hands of two people – myself and Comrade Korzh. We have had to run like hamsters in a wheel. It has been an advantage that, thanks to my old acquaintances built up in the years of Anglo-Soviet ‘friendship’, I have been able to behave ‘normally’ with many people (Lloyd George, Layton, Beaverbrook, Churchill, Eden, Butler, Vansittart and others): it has not been necessary to throw them a breakfast or a luncheon every time I have needed them, and sometimes I could just call them on the phone, or meet them in the corridors of parliament and so on. However, even with these advantages it has sometimes been physically impossible to maintain an active relationship with various individuals with whom we should have kept in contact, and we have had and still have many gaps.
The programme you have set out, if we are to take it seriously (and of course, this is how we should take it), is extremely complex. It will require qualified workers with a great deal of time to devote to this project alone. And whom do we have in the embassy at the moment? Comrade Korzh, whom you wish to control the information gathering, has, as well as a complete lack of time for such work, no experience of literary or scientific research. In the past he was a sailor, then he commanded a charter ship, and for the last two years he has been carrying out current diplomatic duties as a first secretary. The intern Comrade Krainsky has a technical education, was a security officer in Washington for two and a half years and has only just now started embassy work. I have deputed him to watch the English economy. He is a keen worker, but it is a new area for him and he is unaccustomed to it, and it is difficult at the moment for him to orientate himself. The other intern, Comrade Mikhailov, still does not know English and has an incomplete degree from an agricultural academy. Before joining the NKID, he worked at a tractor station, and has never done any sort of either diplomatic or research work. Comrade Mikhailov is also a keen worker, and at the moment he helps Comrade Korzh in the press bureau; but after only four months in England, he is, of course, as yet not particularly comfortable with English, and nor is he at home with the situation here.


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I will conclude with a couple of words … In the state of spy mania in which England exists at the moment, we have to be extremely careful with any observations, so as not to give our enemies an excuse for anti-Soviet provocation. On this note, I will bring this letter to an end, and I hope that the department and the embassy will now work more harmoniously together.
RAN f.1702 op.3 d.278 ll.1–9.
The German Blitzkrieg in the west, however, would play into Maisky’s hands, again rendering him indispensable and ensuring his continued stay in London on his own terms.]
9 April
What a sharp and unexpected turn of events!
Only yesterday the British were planning for a lengthy Sitz-Krieg (sic!); today, the Germans have made Blitz-Krieg (sic!) the order of the day.
German troops invaded Denmark and Norway this morning. Denmark, it seems, is putting up no resistance and, if German communications are to be believed, the whole country will be occupied within the next 48 hours. Copenhagen is already in German hands. The situation in Norway is more complex. With the help of some trick or other (the nature of which is not yet clear), the Germans managed to land in Oslo. The N[orwegian] G[overnment] evacuated and began to fight back. At the same time the Germans have appeared in Bergen, Trondheim and Narvik. How? That’s also still unclear. It seems that treachery on the Norwegian side played a major role here. It’s difficult to predict how hostilities will develop, but one thing is clear: the period of sitting and waiting is over. The war has started in earnest.
In parliament the prevailing mood today was one of confusion, anger and chauvinism. All had one and the same question on their minds: where the devil was our navy? How could our navy let the Germans reach not only Oslo, but also Norway’s Atlantic ports? However, as soon as Mander set about posing this question to the prime minister, an animal-like roar erupted on all sides of the House against the excessively daring MP. But in the corridors of the House, the navy’s miraculous disappearance was the only subject of conversation.
Chamberlain’s speech was weak and colourless. He had once again been taken by ‘surprise’. Only one thing was clear from the PM’s words: the Allies had taken the firm decision to provide Norway with military assistance. The audience met this statement with noisy approval.
Attlee and Sinclair seconded the British government’s decision to help. Henderson raised the question of convening the L[eague] of N[ations] in connection with the aggression against Norway, but he met with failure.
So, England and France are coming to Norway’s assistance. But the Norwegian government, as Colban told me today, has not yet asked for any help. So what is this: unrequested assistance?


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10 April
Saw Aras. He is troubled and agitated. He is sure the Balkans will be next in line after Scandinavia. I asked him: ‘Why? … Other directions are also open.’
Aras could not give a clear answer to this question, but continued speaking about the Balkans. By way of evidence, he related that in mid-March the German government had demanded two things from Teleki
Count Pál Teleki de Szék, a geographer, he was Hungarian prime minister and in charge of foreign affairs, 1920–21 and 1939–41.
(the Hungarian prime minister): (1) that the entire Hungarian railway network be put under German administration in the event of war in the Balkans, and (2) that Germany be supplied with a quantity of food exceeding Hungarian food exports to all countries.
Teleki was shocked and replied that the Hungarian government was simply unable to procure so much food from the country. Then the German government declared: if you are unable to do this, allow us to send an unarmed division to Hungary to make requisitions. This really put the wind up Teleki, and as soon as the talks in Brenner were over, he hurried to Rome to seek Mussolini’s protection. Mussolini assured Teleki that Italy was a good friend of Hungary, but advised him not to quarrel with Germany. The Germans are currently waging a campaign against Teleki in order to replace him with Csáky
Count István Csáky, Hungarian foreign minister, 1938–41.
(foreign minister), who suits them better.
Aras is sure that Germany will demand 100% of the Balkan countries’ exports of raw materials and food in the nearest future.
11 April
Today Churchill made a speech giving more detailed explanations about the events in Norway. I had never seen him in such a state. He clearly hadn’t slept for several nights. He was pale, couldn’t find the right words, stumbled and kept getting mixed up. There was not a trace of his usual parliamentary brilliance.
In its essence, his speech was unsatisfactory. Its running thread was a tone of apology. Churchill produced rather lame arguments to explain the German breakthrough: bad weather, the vastness of the sea, the impossibility of controlling it all, and so on. The audience was visibly disappointed with the explanations of the first lord of the Admiralty. The prevailing mood was one of growing irritation and concern for the future.
But Chamberlain, sitting on the front bench next to Churchill, was clearly pleased. No wonder: Churchill’s failure is Chamberlain’s success.


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12 April
I saw Lloyd George in parliament. This is his assessment of the situation.
The capture of Denmark undoubtedly strengthens Germany. It definitively closes the gateway to the Baltic Sea, providing Germany with a number of naval and air bases on Danish shores and temporarily replenishing German food and oil supplies (Denmark has reserves of up to 250,000 tons of oil). Moreover, Germany has a land border with Denmark which no one can now threaten.
Norway is a different story. It is separated from Germany by the sea, where the Allies dominate. Hitler has only managed to transfer two or three divisions. Sending reinforcements is fraught with difficulties. Norway is poor and can give little to Germany in terms of resources. There are few roads in the country, and the terrain is ill-suited to warfare. The British and the French control Norway’s Atlantic coastline and can land large forces there (Lloyd George estimates that their number could potentially reach 500,000). Why, in such circumstances, has Hitler attacked Norway? Isn’t this his first great blunder?
The attention of the Allies is now focused mainly on Narvik and Kiruna. They don’t need to violate Sweden’s neutrality to cut off Hitler’s access to iron ore. It would be enough to occupy Narvik and linger by the Swedish border, which is just some 50 miles distant from Kiruna. At the first sign of a suspicious move by the Germans, the Allies could occupy Kiruna overnight. And such a suspicious move is inevitable, for how else will Germany be able to reinforce its troops in Norway? The sea is in Allied hands. There remains only Swedish territory, through which troops and weapons may be transported to the north. Should the Germans try to occupy Kiruna themselves, the Allies will move even quicker.
In all probability Scandinavia will be the next and perhaps decisive theatre of war. There is one more alternative: a German attack on Holland and Belgium. Then the west will become the main theatre of war. But if military operations develop in Scandinavia, the Allies will have to come out to the shores of the Baltic, for Sweden will inevitably be drawn into the war. How will this affect Finland? The position of the Soviet Union will become highly delicate as well.
I remarked: ‘Even in such conditions we shall make every effort to preserve our neutrality.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Lloyd George. ‘The question is, will you be able to preserve it?’
On parting, he added: ‘Whatever happens, I hope the course of the war will not force you to leave our country.’


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13 April
Great excitement in political circles. A German attack on Holland is expected imminently. The British, French and Belgian military staffs are holding urgent conferences. Contact with Holland is being maintained. One often hears the following opinion. The Germans want to strike in the west in order to divert the Allies’ attention from Norway – so be it. That’s even better. It is easier for the Allies to wage war in the west than in Scandinavia. Here, they are better prepared.
Until the Dutch situation is clarified, the British government seems disinclined to get involved too deeply in Norway.
Rubinin
Evgenii Vladimirovich Rubinin, Soviet ambassador to Belgium, 1935–40.
reports that the Belgians are sceptical about an imminent German offensive. They think the Allies are intentionally exaggerating these fears to make it easier for Belgium to enter the war.
I’m not quite convinced that the Belgians are being sincere. But time will tell.
15 April
Diplomatic relations between the Labour Party and the embassy have been restored.
Our links were practically severed at the beginning of the Finnish campaign. True, I kept in touch with several Labour MPs (Wedgwood, Maclean, Hicks, Pritt, Wilkinson and others) during those months, but these figures were all either marginal or opposed to the Labour leaders. The official leaders of the Labour Party did not visit the embassy and I did not visit them. It was a complete break.
With the end of the Finnish war, Labour’s mood started to change. Dalton’s conversation with me (15 March) was the first sign. At the beginning of April, Attlee’s secretary, Jenkins,
Arthur Jenkins.
suggested to Coates that it would be desirable to bury the hatchet on the issue of Finland and return to the ‘old friendship’ between the embassy and the party leadership. I took the position that it was not I who had started the quarrel, but Labour – and Labour should take the first step. I, for my part, was prepared to normalize relations with them. After a week of deliberation between Jenkins and Coates on this matter, Attlee and Greenwood finally paid me a visit today.
We mentioned neither the ‘quarrel’ nor Finland. Our conversation focused on Anglo-Soviet relations in general and trade negotiations in particular. I informed the Labour leaders about the present state of affairs. They expressed


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their ardent desire to improve our relations and promised their assistance. Greenwood did most of the talking, constantly addressing Attlee with the words: ‘Isn’t that so, Clem?’
To which Attlee kept answering: ‘Oh yes, absolutely.’
On the whole, I got the impression that Attlee’s attitude was more favourable than Greenwood’s. Greenwood drank a lot, as is his wont, while Attlee merely sipped his cherry brandy.
And so, diplomatic relations are restored!
Facts are stubborn things, and the power of the USSR is undeniably one of them.
16 April
The former Danish minister in London, Count Ahlefeldt, whose wife used to spread such vile insinuations about Agniya, is back in London. He retired two years or so ago to spend the rest of his days in Madeira (not a bad place!), just like in Nekrasov:
Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov, nineteenth-century Russian poet; editor of the literary review Sovremennik (The Contemporary).
Under the captivating skies of Sicilia, In the fragrant shade of the trees…
But war arrived, and everything was turned upside down. The funds which Ahlefeldt had invested in Danish shipping companies evaporated, especially after the German occupation of Denmark. Ahlefeldt ‘went bust’ and came to London. He is here with his daughter, without a penny to his name. The


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daughter is looking for a job just to feed herself and her father. Ahlfeldt’s wife is stuck in Copenhagen. She is ill, in hospital, separated from her family.
They are one of the first victims of the war in London’s high society. But not the last!
17 April
A visit out of the blue from Pierre Cot
Pierre Cot, Radical French MP, 1928–40; minister for air, 1933–34 and 1936–38; minister for trade, 1938–39; in exile in Great Britain, 1940–44.
(the former French minister for air). I hadn’t seen him for two years. He looked dreadfully thin and pinched. It turns out that he fell very ill at the beginning of the war with acute appendicitis. He only recovered recently and has returned to political life. But he has no official post. ‘I prefer to be a deputy,’ he added with a certain emphasis.
He is in London on various matters and decided to pay me a visit. The ‘Russian question’ is clearly in a state of flux in France. In the past, no one wished to listen to people like Cot. Now they listen and scratch their heads. This change of mood leads Cot to wonder whether the time may have come to discuss in earnest the improvement of Franco-Soviet relations. But before speaking about this to Reynaud, Cot wanted to know whether we desire such an improvement. That explains his visit to me.
I replied that the USSR wishes to remain neutral in a big war. All governments should proceed from this premise. However, we certainly do not have the intention of causing a deterioration in our relations with the Allies and, by way of illustration, I divulged to Cot some details concerning the trade negotiations between the USSR and England. It is difficult for me to say how the general line of our foreign policy is refracted in the specific case of France, since Franco-Soviet relations lie outside the sphere of my work. My personal opinion is that the problem of Franco-Soviet relations is far more complicated than the problem of Anglo-Soviet relations. For, even if we can hardly be satisfied with the position of the British government over recent months, it has at least not been arranging raids on the Soviet trade mission in London and has not demanded my withdrawal as a ‘persona non grata’.
Cot agreed with me that the policy of the F[rench] G[overnment] had been more aggressive and provocative than the policy of the British government, but reminded me that it was not Reynaud but Daladier who must bear responsibility for the raid on the Soviet trade mission in Paris and the ‘Surits case’. True, the ‘Surits case’ was concluded under Reynaud, but it was initiated by his predecessor, and it was difficult for Reynaud to stop it once he came to


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power, especially in light of the tangled political situation he faced in France during the first days of his premiership.
On the whole, Cot was satisfied with my explanations. Since the USSR is not against improving relations, Cot will raise the matter with Reynaud, whom he knows well, upon his return to Paris. An improvement in our relations was out of the question while Daladier was still premier. The situation has changed. Reynaud is ready to normalize Franco-Soviet relations, but he is afraid of Laval, Flandin and Co. Nonetheless, the question of normalization can now be raised. What is the best way of doing so? Perhaps by starting with trade negotiations here as well? Under this banner, Reynaud would find it easiest to carry the country with him…
I said it was hard for me to give Cot any concrete advice. If the F[rench] G[overnment] really wished to open trade talks, would it not be better for Payart to make inquiries in Moscow?
Cot pondered this a little and said: ‘When I get back to Paris, I’ll talk to Reynaud, and then it will be easier to decide. Maybe Reynaud will test the ground via Payart, or maybe he would prefer to do so through you. You know, Reynaud is in a delicate position, and it may be more convenient for him not to send an official telegram to Payart through the Foreign Ministry (this could be exploited by Reynaud’s enemies), but to carry out initial negotiations through London. But I can’t say anything definite for the moment. We shall see.’
We parted.
Obviously, some shifts on the issue of relations with the USSR are occurring in France. Although Cot said that he had visited me in a private capacity, he would have hardly made this move without consulting Reynaud first, or at least others in his circle.
18 April
As far as I can judge from conversations and reports, the British plan of operations in Scandinavia is governed by the following priorities, in order of significance.
First, to consolidate the British position in Narvik and to hover around Kiruna so as to cut off Hitler’s access to iron ore at the first opportunity.
Second, to force the Germans out of the ports and the Norwegian coastline in general (Stavanger, Bergen, Trondheim, etc.).
Third, to clear the Germans out of the rest of Norway.
While implementing the plan, of course, as many German war and merchant vessels as possible must be sunk and the transportation of German reinforcements to Norway must be blocked (using mines, aviation, warships, etc.).


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The Allies are not yet sending significant forces to Norway. Only one or two divisions are mentioned. The Allies are eager to draw Sweden into the war. This, of course, is a highly appealing prospect, for several reasons. Should Sweden enter the war, Scandinavia would be turned into the main theatre of operations (far away from England and France!), Germany would be exposed to an attack from its poorly protected flank, and the Allies would reach the Baltic and be able to threaten the USSR as well.
But these are just plans. Their realization will take some time. We shall see what happens in reality. I now often recall Tolstoy’s lines:
On paper there had seemed no hitches.
Alas! Forgotten were the ditches,
Which one would have to cross!
22 April
Attlee and Greenwood visited me again. They spoke about my meeting with Halifax on 19 April. Greenwood attempted, if not to justify, then at least to explain the conduct of the F[oreign] O[ffice]. I rebuffed him firmly. On the whole, Attlee took my side.
The conversation then turned to international affairs. The two leaders categorically asserted that the Allies would give real assistance to Norway, but that a certain amount of time was needed to gather the forces required in Scandinavia (particularly in Narvik).
Greenwood kept assuring me that the British government is not planning to start a war in the Balkans and that Italy will not risk a military adventure in view of its extreme vulnerability.
I’m not so sure of that.
27 April
Cripps is back from his wanderings in far-off lands. He left London in early December and since then has managed to visit India, China, Japan, the Soviet Union and the United States. Now he is back home, and full of interesting stories. What he told me could be summarized in the following way.
India. The British government’s conduct in India is reactionary and short-sighted. Its policy is leading directly to the rise of oppositional and revolutionary movements. India is on the brink of a campaign of ‘civil disobedience’. Gandhi undoubtedly remains the most influential of all Indian leaders.
China. Jiang Jieshi has taken a firm stance. There’s stalemate at the front. The Japanese are unable to advance, and the Chinese are unable to flush them


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out of their strongholds because of a shortage of tanks, artillery, planes, etc. The partisan movement is spread wide, but slow to take effect. Jiang Jieshi faces two main dangers. (A) The threat to the Chinese dollar. The stabilization fund has dried up and the dollar may plummet at any moment. Meanwhile, the Chinese dollar is more than just a currency; it is the symbol of China’s unity. Thanks to the dollar, the population of the regions ‘occupied’ by the Japanese can pay taxes and duties to Jiang Jieshi. (B) The aggravation of relations between the Guomindang and the Communist Party. This may lead to open armed conflict. Jiang Jieshi’s aides-de-camp bear the brunt of the blame for this (although he himself is quite anti-communist too). According to Cripps’s observations, there are many corrupt elements among this group. When he was in the United States, Cripps tried to sound out the possibility of augmenting the stabilization fund. It seems that the Americans may be prepared to go half-and-half with England (up to 15 million pounds is required in total).
Japan. The country’s economic situation is difficult but far from catastrophic. Cripps talked with Arita,
Hachiro Arita, intermittent Japanese foreign minister, 1936–40.
and his impression is that Japan really fears just one country – the Soviet Union. Arita also outlined provisional conditions of peace with China: (a) recognition of Manzhouguo and the Beijing government; (b) economic preferences for Japan in China; (c) spheres of influence for Japan in some regions, especially those adjoining the USSR; and (d) the conclusion of an anti-Comintern alliance between Japan and China, which is understood as the right to organize a Chinese army under Japanese command against the USSR. Of all these conditions, Arita considers the fourth to be the most important.
USSR. Cripps and his secretary, Geoffrey Wilson,
Geoffrey Masterman Wilson, Stafford Cripps’s secretary; served in the British embassy in Moscow, and the Russian department of the Foreign Office, 1940–45.
flew to the USSR from Chongqing. The weather was so bad that they were forced to stay in Kuibyshev for three days. On the way back, after being flown on a Soviet plane to Chinese territory in Tianjin, Cripps had to travel more than two thousand kilometres by car. But it all turned out fine. Cripps liked our pilots and was pleased with the attention accorded to him in the Soviet Union. His conversation with C[omrade] Molotov clarified a great deal for him. Cripps was mostly interested in what had gone wrong in the trade negotiations between England and the USSR last autumn, as well as in the prospects for their resumption. He informed C[omrade] Molotov of his impressions of China and asked him in detail about Soviet policy towards China. Cripps spent merely 36 hours in Moscow before heading back to Chongqing. Cripps spoke highly of Clark Kerr,
Archibald Clark Kerr, British ambassador in China, 1938–42, in the USSR, 1942–46, and in the USA, 1946–48.
the British


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ambassador in China, whom he found to be a progressive fellow with a friendly attitude towards the USSR.
28 April
Agniya and I had lunch yesterday with Prytz (the Swedish minister). In Prytz’s opinion, the position of the Allies in southern Norway is very difficult and their withdrawal cannot be excluded. At any rate, General Dill
Sir John Greer Dill, field marshal, commander of 1st Army Corps in France, 1939–40; vice-chief of imperial general staff, 1940; aide-de-camp general to the king and chief of imperial general staff, 1940–41.
(deputy chief of the general staff) dropped hints to this effect in his conversation with journalists the other day. The difficulty of the Allied position is due to the fact that the transportation of German reinforcements to Norway continues in spite of their efforts. A quarter of the transport ships are sunk, but the rest arrive in Norway safely. As a result, there are about 4,000 Germans in Narvik, while the Allies have so far landed only a regiment of sappers and the marines. The British hope to defeat the Germans there by starving and exhausting them. They may be mistaken.
Sweden’s position, according to Prytz, is difficult in the extreme. The critical moment will arrive when the ice breaks on the Baltic and it becomes possible to transport ore through Lulea. If the Swedes agree to supply Germany with ore, the Allies will most likely attack Kiruna from Narvik. If the Swedes refuse to supply Germany with ore, the Germans will strike from the south. It looks like the only way out for Sweden would be to destroy the iron-ore mines in Kiruna.
Then, as if thinking aloud, Prytz developed the idea that if the USSR could make it clear to Germany and the Allies that they should leave Sweden alone, everything would be settled to the general good.
Prytz spoke with great respect about Al[exandra] Mikh[ailovna Kollontay]. She gained considerable prestige during the negotiations which preceded the signing of the Soviet–Finnish peace treaty. Her position was difficult and delicate, but she emerged with credit.
2 May
During the last two or three days the press has patently been preparing public opinion for the evacuation of Norway. And today Chamberlain declared this plainly in parliament. The PM’s speech had an oppressive effect. The MPs were gloomy, and the question of an inevitable government reshuffle was openly discussed in the corridors. Chamberlain is clearly bankrupt. But there were


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no debates today. They have been postponed until 7 May, when important developments can be expected.
On 29 April I handed Halifax our reply to the British memorandum of 19 April. Halifax told me that he had to delay his response until he had studied it with the experts. It was already past 6 p.m. when I met Halifax.
On 30 April, at noon, a representative of the Foreign Office press department declared at a press conference that our reply had been deemed ‘unsatisfactory’ in ‘authoritative circles’. This was repeated over the radio a little later. So, in less than twenty-four hours the ‘authoritative circles’ had succeeded in ‘studying’ the Soviet reply and pronouncing their verdict!
The Executive Committee of the Labour Party sat on 1 May. Although the Executive Committee members were not in full agreement with all the points of our reply, they found it to be a sufficient basis for negotiations. The Executive Committee also deemed essential the immediate return of a British ambassador to Moscow, although it was strongly against Seeds. They asked Dalton to look into the lists of British diplomats and find a proper man for Moscow. On the same day, Attlee and Greenwood visited the prime minister and demanded the urgent opening of trade negotiations with the Soviet Union and the immediate settlement of the ambassadorial question. Chamberlain mumbled something incoherent in reply.
Today, 2 May, Attlee addressed the prime minister with a private notice question concerning trade negotiations with the USSR and mentioned the statement of the ‘authoritative circles’ on the radio on 30 April. Butler said that the Soviet reply is currently under the most careful consideration by the appropriate authorities, and that only his statement should be seen as the correct official response to the Soviet government’s memorandum.
Well, we shall see. For myself, I don’t expect too much from that careful consideration.
Right now in the Foreign Office there are two trends: one for negotiations with us and one against. Someone’s hand is constantly sabotaging the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations.
4 May
Colban paid me a visit. He is upset, shocked, stunned. To top it all, his children – son and daughter – have been left behind in Norway and he has heard nothing from them.
He told me, among other things, that the N[orwegian] G[overnment] did not immediately ask the Allies for help. It hesitated for two or three days and held talks with the Germans. It was only after Germany demanded that Haakon


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recognize Quisling’s
Vidkun Quisling, founder of the Norwegian Fascist Party, 1933; installed as a Nazi puppet ‘minister president’ of Norway, 1942–45.
government that the N[orwegian] G[overnment], acting through the British minister in Norway, asked England and France for help.
In the first few days, this assistance was promised in the most resolute and definite terms. Chamberlain, Churchill, Halifax and Hoare – Colban had contact with all of them – were lavish with their promises. In particular, they promised very serious aid in Trondheim. But, when the time came to translate promises into action, all manner of ‘difficulties’ and ‘obstacles’ suddenly arose.
Colban was not informed about the evacuation of southern Norway. He learnt about it by chance, from one of his acquaintances, on 30 April. Gripped by anxiety, he hurried to Halifax for clarification. Halifax confirmed the fact of the evacuation and tried to throw dust in Colban’s eyes with his explanations.
And what’s the upshot of it all?
Even Colban, gentle and quiet as a ladybird, is deeply outraged by the conduct of the Allies.
‘We’ve been a pawn in England’s hands,’ he said bitterly.
Colban did not use the word ‘betrayal’, but that was the sense of everything he said to me today.
Indeed, the Allies thrust their aid on Norway, drew her into the war by promising support, and then left her at the mercy of fate without even bothering to inform Colban of their decision.
A lesson in brazen cynicism.
7 May
Beaverbrook came for lunch. He is in a resolute and belligerent frame of mind. The Allies will fight to the end! Let it take three, five or seven years – so be it. Both sides will be ruined by the end. Civilization will collapse. So be it. England will not yield! England cannot yield!
Yes, Norway is a failure. But failures occur in every war. He who laughs last, laughs best.
Beaverbrook is in favour of trade negotiations and improved relations with the USSR in general. Now more than ever.
I asked Beaverbrook about the state of the government. Should one expect any changes in this sphere in view of the parliamentary debates that will begin today?
With a dismissive wave of his arms, he asserted with confidence that the government would of course be criticized during the debates, but no serious


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consequences would follow. Chamberlain’s position is secure. The Cabinet will be unchanged. He, Beaverbrook, is no supporter of Chamberlain, but he has to acknowledge that the PM is not in danger.
Brendan Bracken spoke to me about this yesterday in equally confident terms. And he, after all, is Churchill’s alter ago, with an excellent knowledge of all the goings-on in the kitchen of politics.
It’s strange. Beaverbrook and Bracken are by all appearances exceptionally well-informed individuals. And yet, I have the feeling that England has approached a crucial boundary; that these debates ought to yield something; that change is in the air…
We’ll see.
8 May
My intuition didn’t fail me! Following two days of debates, the Chamberlain government has fallen… The government has not yet formally resigned, but this is merely a matter of time, and will happen sooner rather than later. The fatal blow has been struck.
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


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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


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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.
13 May
And so, England is ruled by a new government – the Churchill government!
The duck with a broken leg passed away sooner than Lloyd George predicted. Hitler is to blame for that. But, rather than run ahead of myself, I’ll relate the facts as they happened.
The day after the fatal vote, at nine in the morning, Chamberlain summoned Amery and told him that he thought a serious government reshuffle was in order. Measures should be taken, however, to prevent Labour from coming to power. The government must remain in Tory hands. The prime minister went on to offer Amery any portfolio he wanted (except the PM’s), including those of chancellor of the exchequer or foreign secretary. He also promised to do the


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Conservative ‘opposition’ a good turn by offering ministerial posts to its more prominent members. Amery, however, categorically refused the offer. He said that it wasn’t a question of his portfolio. It was a question of the composition of the government and above all its leadership. Amery though it impossible for Chamberlain to remain prime minister.
Having failed to ‘buy’ Amery, Chamberlain invited Attlee and Greenwood to see him after lunch and inquired about the possibility of including Labourites in a government headed by himself. The Labour leaders, however, firmly stated that such a move was out of the question. For even if Attlee and Greenwood should agree to work under Chamberlain, they would soon be disavowed at the Labour conference to be held on the 13th in Bournemouth. Chamberlain then asked whether they would join a government headed by a different prime minister? To this, the Labour leaders replied that they would have to consult their colleagues. On parting, the prime minister asked Attlee and Greenwood to give him a definitive answer to two questions, after consulting their colleagues:
(1) Would they agree to serve in a government under Chamberlain?
(2) Would they agree to serve in a government under another prime minister?
Attlee and Greenwood promised to inform Chamberlain of the decision of the Labour organizations the following day.
Later the same day, Chamberlain met Sinclair and talked to him along the same lines. Sinclair proved more amenable and tended towards the opinion that at such a critical moment it would be more expedient not to insist on Chamberlain’s resignation. He would be ready to work under Chamberlain should the composition of the government be sufficiently altered. Sinclair even made a statement to this effect in the press on the morning of the 10th.
Wilson and Margesson set their machinery in motion and were preparing to launch a large-scale campaign to ‘rescue Chamberlain’ by sacrificing some of the most unpopular ministers. But then Hitler unexpectedly intervened and turned everything upside down.
In the night of the 9th to the 10th the Germans attacked Holland and Belgium. This fact had a tremendous effect in England. The temperature immediately shot up. The whole country became tense. Events developed at breakneck speed. Wilson’s and Margesson’s plans, which required a certain amount of time to be put into practice, fell by the wayside.
It was clear to all that the reconstruction of the government should be carried out immediately and in a far more radical way than conceived before.
On the morning of 10 May, the Labour Executive Committee, excluding Morrison, left for Bournemouth, where Labour delegates had gathered for their annual conference. As head of the London County Council and anti-aircraft defence, Morrison stayed in London, in the event of a German air raid on the


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capital. The Executive Committee reached Bournemouth in time for lunch, after which they immediately opened the conference in order to work out their answers to Chamberlain’s questions. The Executive Committee’s mood was fairly well unanimous. They refused categorically to serve under Chamberlain, but agreed to be part of a government under another prime minister, on condition that Labour be ‘sufficiently represented’ in the key positions. The conference closed at around 4.30 p.m., and it was proposed that Attlee and Greenwood proceed to London at once to negotiate on the basis of the decisions taken at the conference. Attlee and Greenwood were just getting into the car when there was a telephone call and Chamberlain’s secretary enquired about Labour’s decision. Attlee answered the call and informed him. Then the Labour leaders set off for London. It took them about two and a half hours to get to London, and when they arrived at seven o’clock the Chamberlain government was no longer in existence. In the time they spent travelling, Chamberlain managed to submit his resignation to the king, and the king managed to appoint Churchill as the new prime minister. The decision made by the Executive Committee of the Labour Party left Chamberlain with no choice but to resign the premiership.
According to Halifax, the king told him that he ‘had hoped if Neville C. went he would have had to deal with me’. It would have been Chamberlain’s choice. Halifax, however,


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feared that Churchill, as minister of defence, would be the effective leader, while he, having no access to the House of Commons, would ‘become a more or less honorary Prime Minister, living in a kind of twilight just outside the things that really mattered. Winston, with suitable expressions of regard and humility, said he could not but feel the force of what I had said, and the P.M. reluctantly, and Winston evidently with much less reluctance finished by accepting my view’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 9 & 11 May 1940.
Directly upon their arrival in London, Attlee and Greenwood were invited to meet Churchill at the Admiralty. There they conferred with the new prime minister for about two hours. They had no difficulty in agreeing on a common policy. The allocation of portfolios was a trickier matter, but agreement was soon reached on that as well: Attlee and Greenwood became members of the five-member War Cabinet, Alexander was appointed first lord of the Admiralty, and Morrison the minister of supply. Bevin was suggested for minister of labour, and appointed as such two days later. Dalton’s candidacy was haggled over for some time, until he was eventually offered the portfolio of minister of economic warfare. On the whole, Labour was satisfied with the quantity and quality of the posts it received.
The hardest thing was to agree with Churchill about Chamberlain. As Attlee and Greenwood travelled from Bournemouth to London, Chamberlain not only resigned but also received a proposal from Churchill to join the new government as a member of the War Cabinet. In doing so, Churchill was guided mainly by consideration of the large group of Chamberlain’s supporters among Tory MPs: Chamberlain would be less harmful inside the Cabinet as a ‘hostage’ than outside as the instigator of all manner of intrigues. Churchill made his offer to Chamberlain. But he did so at his own risk and without informing the Labour leaders in advance. Upon arrival in London, they were confronted with this fait accompli. This led to a heated discussion between Churchill and the Labour leaders. They finally reached a compromise. Chamberlain will remain in the War Cabinet as minister without portfolio, but Churchill will reject the former PM’s two demands: Chamberlain will not be appointed chancellor of


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the exchequer and will not be leader of the House (the official representative of the government in the absence of the prime minister). This latter role will be assumed by Attlee.
The Bournemouth conference was told about Labour’s entry into the government on the morning of 13 May. It was approved by a majority of 4.5 million votes to 170 thousand. In fact, however, the number of those who opposed joining the government (including the minorities within certain trade unions who cannot express themselves owing to the block vote system) stood at about 500,000.
After lunch on the same day, a short closed session of parliament was convened, at which Churchill presented his new government. When Chamberlain entered the hall, most of the Conservatives greeted him with such a storm of fervent applause that it could only be viewed as a demonstration of hostility towards Churchill. This was rendered even more emphatic by the fact that Churchill’s entry into the House was met with relatively feeble applause: the opposition is not in the habit of cheering Conservative leaders, and most Tories remained silent. But Churchill didn’t seem to mind. Presenting the Cabinet, he uttered only a few, forceful words. He said he could offer his new colleagues nothing but ‘blood, toil, tears and sweat’. But he is sure of eventual victory.
This is how a new chapter has opened in the history of this war and in the political history of England.
Maisky has more empathy toward Churchill in his memoirs. While recognizing that in Churchill’s nature ‘there was always something of the actor’, he describes how on this occasion ‘he was genuinely moved. Even his voice broke from time to time.’ As for the drama, visiting Churchill at his ‘dugout’, Halifax, too, commented that ‘he was exactly like a thing on the stage in what I understand nurses are accustomed to call “a romper suit” of Air Force colour Jaeger-like stuff … I asked him if he was going on the stage but he said he always wore this in the morning. It is really almost like Göring’; The Times, 14 Jan. 1964, and Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.6, 25 Oct. 1940.
14 May
A telephone call from Rubinin. Belgian soldiers have surrounded our embassy in Brussels and are not allowing anybody in or out, including Rubinin himself. The excuse: German paratroopers allegedly landed in the embassy’s garden (it has a beautiful, big garden). Rubinin invited an officer and two soldiers to walk round the garden and see for themselves that this was pure invention. They walked around the garden and found nobody, yet the siege continues. Rubinin called the nuncio
Cardinal Clemente Micara, permanent diplomatic representative of the ‘Holy See’ in Belgium, 1923–40.
(the doyen), the foreign minister Spaak,
Paul Henri Charles Spaak, intermittent Belgian foreign minister, 1936–57; prime minister of Belgium, 1938–39 and 1947–50.
and the premier Pierlot.
Count Hubert Marie Pierlot, prime minister of Belgium, 1939–45.
all expressed their indignation and promised their cooperation, but nothing has changed. In despair, Rubinin called and asked me to lean on the Belgian government, albeit only through the Belgian ambassador in London. I called Cartier and remarked in passing, in the hope of shaking him up: ‘One rather has the impression that the Belgian government has lost its head.’


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My words cut Cartier to the quick. He assured me I was wrong and promised to contact Brussels immediately.
At four o’clock today, the ‘siege’ was finally lifted.
15 May
Visited Lloyd George in his office in Thames House.
He is greatly alarmed. He thinks Belgium is lost. The Belgians fought poorly in the last war and are fighting equally poorly now. Liddell-Hart, who recently saw the Belgian fortifications on the Albert Canal, assured Lloyd George that they were very solid. They could last for a long time. But the Belgians simply fled. Evidently, there was treason, too. Otherwise it’s a mystery why two bridges were left intact, to be safely crossed by German tanks.
However, what happened yesterday at Sedan is much more serious. There were signs of a breakthrough there. If that happens, the situation will become really ominous. Sedan is located at the juncture of the Maginot Line and the lighter fortifications running along the Belgian border towards the sea. After breaking through the French line, the Germans would be able to reach the rear both of the Maginot Line and of the Anglo-French army deployed along the Belgian border. It’s terribly dangerous. It could decide the outcome of the war in France. That is why Lloyd George’s attention is now fixed on Sedan.
I asked: how can one explain the German success in Holland and Belgium?
‘Technology!’ exclaimed Lloyd George. ‘Technology wins. The Allies had not envisaged such colossal mechanization and were not prepared for it. The Germans have an enormous quantity of tanks. The French staff was quite convinced that the Ardennes were impassable for tanks and lorries. They based their calculations on this assumption. Then the Germans suddenly passed through the Ardennes with heavy tanks and lorries of a special design, of which the French had not the slightest idea! The Germans have armoured trains equipped with 11-inch guns. The Allies have nothing of the sort, or a negligible amount at the most. Suffice it to say that the British have virtually no heavy tanks. The French have them, but the British don’t. As for aviation, the Germans have a superiority of 3:1.’
Lloyd George rumpled his snow-white mane with a theatrical gesture and added emphatically: ‘Men returning from the front say that our men still haven’t seen any German soldiers. They’ve seen German machines, but not German soldiers. This is entirely different from 1914.’
Flushed with excitement and gesticulating vigorously, Lloyd George continued: ‘We, the British and the French, had a fair amount of “junk” among


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our leaders in the past war. The Germans had, too: the kaiser,
Kaiser Wilhelm II, last German emperor and king of Prussia, 1888–1918.
Bethmann-Hollweg, many courtiers and even generals, although it should be said that most of the German generals were first rate. The situations were more or less the same here and there. It’s different today. Germany is undoubtedly led by a remarkable man. He and Mussolini are “revolutionaries” in their own way. They do not abide by traditions or universally acknowledged rules. They have inventive and resourceful minds. They act boldly, decisively, and with lightning speed. And we still have so much “junk” at the top. Even Winston is different from what he was 20 years ago, to say nothing of the others. What’s more, we’ve had Chamberlain up till now. How can our “junk” keep up with Hitler and Mussolini? That is why we encounter a surprise at every turn!’
Lloyd George is greatly afraid that Italy will soon come out on the side of Germany. It is also unclear what Spain will do. There is ground to believe that Spain will also join the Axis and demand Gibraltar for itself. On the whole, the prospects are grim.
I asked directly: ‘So you think France and England will lose the war?’
Lloyd George waved his hand and said: ‘You put the question too brutally. I don’t want… I can’t answer it.’
He hesitated for an instant, then added: ‘The Allies cannot win the war. The most we can think about now is how to hold the Germans back till autumn and then see.’
Can even that be achieved?…
Lloyd George made a vague gesture. I was left with the definite impression that the old man fears that the Allies may be defeated, and especially France. He was silent for a while and then exclaimed bitterly: ‘How terribly unfortunate that we failed to conclude a pact with you last year!’
Lloyd George asked me if I had met Churchill since his appointment as prime minister. I said I hadn’t. Lloyd George insisted: ‘And Winston didn’t invite you to see him?’
‘No.’
Lloyd George raised his hands in despair: ‘Incredible! If I were in Churchill’s place, the first thing I would do would be to summon you and have a serious heart-to-heart talk.’
Then Lloyd George began to criticize Churchill. Churchill invited him to join the War Cabinet, but Lloyd George declined. He considers the present Cabinet utterly useless and does not wish to bear responsibility for its work. Why have Chamberlain and Halifax been admitted to the War Cabinet? They can do nothing but harm. What kind of a War Cabinet is it? Churchill, Chamberlain,


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Halifax, Attlee and Greenwood. Leaving Churchill aside, what are the rest good for? Chamberlain and Halifax are simply poisonous, and Attlee and Greenwood are nonentities. What can these men bring to the Cabinet? How can they help Churchill?
Lloyd George gave himself over to reminiscence. In his ‘War Cabinet’ of 1916–18 every member made his contribution to the common cause. Milner, Balfour,
Arthur James Balfour, first lord of the Admiralty, 1915–16; foreign secretary, 1916–19; president of the Council, 1919–22 and 1925–29.
Curzon, Henderson, Smuts – they all had their uses, they all had something to offer the PM. And now?… Lloyd George gestured dismissively. Churchill, in conversation with Lloyd George, justified Chamberlain’s entry into the War Cabinet by arguing that he would be less harmful inside than outside the Cabinet.
‘My reply,’ Lloyd George said with a laugh, ‘was that if you cannot cope with Chamberlain, how will you defeat Hitler and Mussolini?’
Then, taking a somewhat philosophical tone, the old man continued: ‘There’s no use hiding the fact: we are governed by a plutocracy. It is absolutely bankrupt. Its unbroken nine-year rule has led to the present catastrophe. All these Chamberlains, Hoares, Simons and Halifaxes – they all deserve the guillotine! And that’s what they’d have got if they’d been living at the time of the French Revolution. If members of your government acted as wrongfully as ours, you’d have them “liquidated”. And you’d be right to do so. But what do we do? We send Simon to the House of Lords and double his salary!’
Lloyd George paused and continued: ‘Yes, our plutocracy is bankrupt. Among the older generation you could still find strong people who made their own way in life and earned their own money. I remember such men; I saw them when I was young. But what good are the plutocrats of today? They are all epigones. They were given everything on a plate. They are not used to struggling and conquering. A real generation of rentiers. Here’s an outstanding example for you: Joseph Chamberlain
Joseph Chamberlain, father of Austen and Neville Chamberlain. Thrice mayor of Birmingham; MP for Birmingham, 1876–85; secretary of state for colonies, 1895–1903.
and his son Neville. Joseph was a big man, and Neville?… Ha ha! A mountain and a mouse!’
As I took my leave Lloyd George said: ‘You were very wise to guarantee the Finns fairly mild conditions of peace. This was both noble and far-sighted. I wish you success.’
[Churchill’s Machiavellian move was aimed at harnessing Lloyd George’s energies by putting him in charge of a Food Council. He assured Halifax, though, that he ‘meant to put [Lloyd George] through an inquisition first’ to ensure ‘that any Peace terms now, or hereafter, offered must not be destructive of our independence’. Lloyd George


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made his acceptance conditional on the removal of Chamberlain from the Cabinet – which was categorically rejected by Churchill: ‘I have received a very great deal of help from Chamberlain; his kindness and courtesy to me in our new relation have touched me. I have joined hands with him, and must act with perfect loyalty.’ Sylvester, Lloyd George’s secretary, believed the reasons for rejecting the offer were far more mundane: he wanted ‘to keep his cake and eat it. He wants a job, but he does not want the bother of it; he does not want it to affect his present mode of life at Churt; and he is frightened to death of the bombs. Added to which he could never sit in an office all day long.’ In December, Churchill tried in vain to divert him to the embassy in Washington. Lloyd George produced a letter he had received from Dawson which objected to the appointment, as he was ‘not an Ambassador, and had not much patience with people who “dig deeply into the surface” … in other words, L-G could not stand having to listen to a lot of damn fools talking and having to show some interest in them.’ That was only part of the story. When Nancy Astor and her circle of friends wished to vet him as a possible successor to Chamberlain, he cited the example of Clemenceau, who ‘had waited until France was in the very gravest danger’. The inference was – as it was observed – that he ‘preferred to await his country’s summons a little longer, but … he expected to receive it as the peril grew’. In a moment of truth, Lloyd George told his secretary: ‘I am 78 and I want to keep fit because, if these fellows make a mess of it I may be called upon to take over great responsibilities.’ Obviously, concluded Sylvester, ‘he had in his mind being called in to make a negotiated peace’. Later on, he told his secretary that he would ‘wait until Winston is bust’.
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 6 June, and Sylvester papers, diary, A48, 16, 28 & 29 May and 14 Dec. 1940; see also A. Lentin, Lloyd George and the Lost Peace: From Versailles to Hitler, 1919–1940 (London, 2001), pp. 74–7.
]
I called on Vansittart. I hadn’t seen him for ages, perhaps since Malvern, where we met at the theatre last August, on the eve of the war: his play Dead Heat was on. He has not changed much – only the wrinkles on his forehead seem to have deepened and his mood become harsher and more bitter.
I asked him about his new play, which was supposed to have been staged in February (we had tickets), but was for some reason postponed. Agniya even thought it might have been banned by the censors. Vansittart, however, gave me a different explanation. When the play was scheduled for staging, the company began falling ill with the ’flu: first the leading man, then two or three other prominent actors, then five or six less important ones, etc. As a result, the director decided to put everything off until the autumn… ‘If plays will be being staged at all in the autumn,’ Vansittart added gloomily.
Indeed, things at the front look bad. Vansittart tried to put a brave face on it, but he too demonstrated great anxiety about what is happening in Belgium and Holland. I pointed out the breakthrough at Sedan: nothing major has happened as yet, but it seems that that is the crucial spot, more crucial than the Low Countries. Vansittart agreed.
Then we spoke about Anglo-Soviet trade negotiations, or, to be more precise, their absence. I made our point of view absolutely clear to Vansittart: the memorandum of 8 May is absolutely unacceptable to us. If the British


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government insists on it, nothing will be achieved. Vansittart shrugged his shoulders and expressed his regret at the lack of success in the trade talks.
***
I spoke with Beaverbrook over the telephone. He frankly concedes the difficulty of the situation in Belgium. The cause? Germany’s supremacy in the air, especially in terms of bombers. The ratio is 4:1 in Germany’s favour. Nevertheless, Beaverbrook is firmly resolved to fight to the end. He is also counting on aid from the United States. If not now, then later.
17 May
At last: the forming of the new government is complete. But is it really new?
There are changes, of course, but Chamberlain’s defeat has turned out to be significantly less decisive than it initially seemed. Take the War Cabinet, for instance: of its five members, Chamberlain and Halifax represent ‘old blood’. Attlee and Greenwood, of course, represent ‘fresh blood’, but both are minor figures. The only independent figure is Churchill. As a result, unless nothing unexpected happens, the influence of ‘old blood’ in the War Cabinet should prove very powerful. Moreover, Chamberlain is still the leader of the Conservative Party and Margesson – the party’s chief whip. Simon may have been shifted to the Lords, but he gets the post of lord chancellor, while Kingsley Wood becomes chancellor of the exchequer. Of Chamberlain’s former ‘Inner Cabinet’, only Hoare remains without a job, but some lofty position will probably be found for him, too, in the near future.
On the other hand, however, a number of key posts in the government (though not in the War Cabinet) have been given to the ‘fresh blood’: Eden – secretary of state for war, Alexander – first lord of the Admiralty, Sinclair – secretary of state for air, Morrison – minister of supply, Bevin – minister of labour, and Dalton – minister of economic warfare. There is good reason to believe that in contrast to the de jure ‘War Cabinet’ consisting of the five individuals listed above, a de facto ‘War Cabinet’ will be created, composed of Churchill plus ministers from the key departments. And this second cabinet will prove far more influential than the first. Time will tell.
In the meantime, Churchill’s position is still not very secure. This was vividly demonstrated in parliament on 13 May. Various sources inform me that Chamberlain is currently far more occupied with fighting Churchill than with fighting Hitler. Sounds just like him.
One fact strikes me as especially symptomatic. If one leaves to one side the more or less decorative posts in the de jure War Cabinet, it is Labour that is in charge of the ministries of supply, labour and economic warfare. In other


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words, the British bourgeoisie has bestowed on Labour the ‘honour’ of exerting pressure on the proletariat and the neutral states. On the part of the bourgeoisie it’s a clever move – but on Labour’s?… Labour is performing its historical role.
Lloyd has been appointed secretary of state for the colonies and Amery – secretary of state for India. Two very important posts of our time. What policy will they pursue? Neither has shown himself to be a man of progressive views in this delicate sphere. But this is how Churchill, too, reveals his imperialist colours. Suffice it to recall his ‘mutiny’ against Hoare’s Indian constitution of 1934.
Nevertheless… this is a new government!
The nine-year rule of obtuse, short-sighted Tories such as Chamberlain and Baldwin has come to an end. These men are quite bankrupt, especially in the sphere of foreign and military policy. A coalition of more flexible and far-sighted Conservatives, like Churchill and Eden, has come to power, mixed with Labour and Liberal elements. The ‘old blood’ will make itself felt for some time yet, but there is much to suggest that we have just seen the back of the first, though not the last, government crisis of the war period.
I think the new government will pursue a more judicious policy towards the USSR, but to what extent? Only the future can tell.
Many in England are asking the question: hasn’t the Churchill government come to power too late to save the country? It’s a very serious question. But again, only the future will tell.
***
All contact with Brussels ceased today. I used to talk with Rubinin over the telephone and exchange occasional telegrams. No longer. The Belgian government has moved to Ostend. The Germans have occupied Brussels.
18 May
Agniya and I travelled out of town to visit friends. We called on Lloyd George.
He is seriously worried. His pessimism has been vindicated. Belgium is lost, and the German breakthrough at Sedan looks more and more ominous. The Germans are using new methods. Dive-bombers are sent out first to clear a path for the tanks, thereby doing the preliminary work that used to be carried out by the artillery. Armoured columns follow, clearing the way for the motorized infantry. Motorized infantry then clears the path for the ordinary infantry. If the tanks or motorized infantry meet an unexpected obstacle, they do not kick against the pricks. They stop for a short while or even retreat, sending the air force ahead of them. After the latter have done their job, the mechanized and motorized divisions resume their advance. Such are the German tactics. The


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Allies have almost nothing with which to oppose the Germans, for they have few tanks and are short of aircraft. The quantity of French aircraft is especially feeble, so British planes have to bear the brunt of the burden. That is why Lloyd George has doubts as to whether the Allies will be able to repair the breach.
But if they fail, what then?
Lloyd George remembers that when entering France in the last war, the Germans were in two minds about which direction to take – towards Paris or the Channel ports. In consequence, they ended up neither here nor there and stalled on the Marne. Today, the Germans seem to have a fixed plan: to strike the Channel ports first. They want to cut England off from France and then concentrate all their attention on France: to crush her and force her to sign a separate peace.
‘Do you think Germany will manage to achieve this goal?’ I asked.
‘I can’t tell for sure, but I think it quite possible,’ Lloyd George answered.
‘What would England do if France was taken out?’
‘Fight on her own,’ Lloyd George exclaimed without the slightest hesitation. ‘Fight to the end! We have no choice.’
Then the old man explained his reasoning in greater detail. The British navy is strong enough to protect the country against a serious invasion by German troops. England is facing a greater danger from the air and temporary difficulties are inevitable, but she will fight nonetheless. Together with the dominions and support from the USA, England will be able to hold firm. The war will be long and exhausting, but victory is possible. From this point of view, it is very important to expand agriculture and food production in general inside the country. That is why Lloyd George would be prepared to assume the post of general commissioner for food production with special powers. But he doesn’t want to enter the War Cabinet, despite Churchill’s continued invitations, so as not to bear responsibility for its policies.
However, in order to wage such a war, England requires an absolutely different government. The plutocracy is bankrupt. The capitalist system is nearing its end. What government will replace the present one? This is not yet entirely clear to Lloyd George, but he thinks it will lean much more to the left than the present one.
To be able to wage such a war, an improvement in relations with the USSR is also required. A meaningful improvement. A genuine improvement!
We drove from Lloyd George to the Webbs. All is well with the old couple, but the growing anxiety can be felt even in this quiet refuge of thought. We spoke, of course, about the war. Without mentioning my conversation with Lloyd George, I asked the Webbs what England would do if France were taken out of the game.


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They answered without hesitation: ‘Then England would have to fight alone.’
They then produced a precedent (the English cannot manage without their precedents!): the era of the Napoleonic wars. The same response was found then. Very significant!
19 May
The German breakthrough at Sedan is expanding.
16 May was a ‘black Thursday’ for France. Not only did the Germans break through the French lines on the previous day, but panic set in in the French army and the French government.
Complete confusion reigned on the section of the front between Sedan and the Sambre. General Corap,
Andre-Georges Corap, general, commanded the 9th Army, 1939–40.
in particular, ‘distinguished himself’, getting into such a state that he not only fled with his armies, but also ‘forgot’ to blow up the bridges on the Meuse, which allowed the German tanks to overcome this major obstacle without the slightest difficulty. He was eventually taken captive by the Germans.
Corap was not the only one to panic. The same happened to Gamelin. In total despair, he tried to convince his government that all was lost, that the Germans would reach Paris in a day or two, and that it was necessary to conclude an immediate peace. A significant proportion of the government took fright. Reynaud, who was firmly resolved to continue the war, immediately summoned Churchill from London. On the 16th, the British prime minister arrived in Paris and a meeting of the Supreme War Council was convened. Churchill calmed the French and raised their spirits. The devil, he told them, is not as terrible as he is painted. The German mechanized divisions also consist of human beings. They have to eat, sleep, ‘relieve themselves’, etc. German tanks also cannot move without petrol. All this gives the Allies the chance to put up resistance and close the breach. Churchill flew back to London on the same day, and two days later Gamelin was replaced by Weygand, while Daladier ceded his post as minister of defence to Reynaud and became foreign minister.
Two diametrically opposed positions have now clashed in France (and in the theatre of the present war in general).
The Allies are staking everything on a long war, a war of attrition, where their immeasurably greater material resources will ensure their eventual victory. That is why they are doing their utmost to hinder the German advance any way they can and drag out the fighting until the autumn or even winter, so as to gain time to mobilize their forces.


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Germany, on the other hand, is staking everything on a short war, a Blitzkrieg, in order to achieve a definitive result this summer, while it still has an advantage over the Allies in terms of aircraft and tanks and while the United States keeps out of the war (the Germans are afraid that America may also declare herself an open enemy after the presidential elections in November).
Two positions, two general ideas. Which will win? Perhaps neither?
Time will tell.
20 May
The Anglo-French bourgeois elite is getting what it deserves.
If one reflects on what has happened in the European arena over the last 20 years, it becomes entirely clear that the main cause of the Allies’ current plight is the bourgeois elite’s mortal hatred of ‘communism’.
This hatred has prevented this elite from establishing any sort of stable, friendly relations with the USSR over these 20 years. There have been ups and downs, but, on the whole, our relations have been unsatisfactory throughout. After all, there are only a few major pieces on the international chessboard, and if a player discards even one of these, for whatever considerations, he considerably weakens his position.
Owing to that very hatred, the ruling elite of England and France systematically supported the Japanese warmongers, Mussolini and Hitler. What’s more, it’s that same elite which nurtured Hitler – in the hope that one day he would march east and wring the Bolsheviks’ necks. But the ‘Bolsheviks’ proved too strong and too skilful. Hitler headed not east but west. The ruling elite of England and France fell into the same trap they had set for us.
Now they are paying a cruel price for their class narrowness. It’s just a pity, however, that the masses in England and France are having to pay this price with them – and perhaps even a higher one.
One more thing. The ruling elite of the ‘Western democracies’ has not only lost its chance to play the Soviet card and dug its own grave; it also neglected – such is its conceit and arrogance – to take the trouble to put its armaments in order ‘just in case’. It did not admit the possibility that its ploy might fail and that Hitler might turn not to the east but to the west.
Yes, the ruling classes of England and France are rotten to the core. How else can one explain their gross blindness, their utter class narrowness, and their complete unpreparedness for war?
We are witnessing the fall of the great capitalist civilization, a fall similar in importance to that of the Roman Empire. Or, perhaps, even more important…


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21 May
Aras came by. He is awfully worried about developments at the front. He pins his hopes on the fact that the French army is still in one piece – and that, he thinks, is the main thing. As long as the army still exists and is battle-worthy, the situation can be put to rights. But he also scolded the Allies for the first time in our conversations together: they are always late, they lack a sense of reality, they are bound by dead tradition, and so on.
Aras talked at length about the fact that the Balkans and the Near East can only be saved through friendship with the USSR. He was all but ready to advocate a Soviet ‘protectorate’ in the Balkans. Very significant!
I asked Aras what Turkey’s position would be if Italy entered the war. I expected to hear in reply that Turkey would immediately offer armed support to the Allies. In the past, Aras had always said as much. But this time he was far less quick to do so. He did say that Turkey would remain loyal to its obligations, but the nature of Turkey’s obligations has suddenly become vague. If Italy’s entry into the war extends hostilities to the eastern part of the Mediterranean, then, Aras believes, Turkey would certainly take up arms. But should Italy be involved in the war only in the western part of the Mediterranean – what then? Would Turkey be bound to declare war against Italy immediately, in accordance with its agreements?…
Aras was unclear about this. So too, he said, was Ankara. Also very significant!
22 May
Cripps spent the whole evening with me. He told me over dinner that he was making meticulous preparations for his visit to Moscow. He has been to all the ministries concerned: the Foreign Office, the Board of Trade, the Ministry of Economic Warfare, the Ministry of Supply and others; he has collected much material and has received instructions. He told me, among other things, that all notes and memorandums relating to trade negotiations which had been handed to me in the last two months should be considered null and void. The British government wishes to make a fresh start. What is now proposed is the conclusion of a simple barter agreement, with the sole guarantee that the products imported by the USSR from England will not be re-exported to Germany. Cripps will be given authority to discuss all questions, both economic and political, in Moscow.
I expressed my satisfaction with the annulment of the Foreign Office documents and also my scepticism about the prospects for the negotiations: after all, nothing has changed at the FO. I recommended that Cripps ensure


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the release of the Selenga and Vladimir Mayakovsky without fail: on the one hand this will make a good impression in Moscow, on the other it will serve as a litmus test to evaluate the attitude of the British government. Cripps promised to do this.
So far there has been no response from Moscow concerning the arrival of Cripps as a special envoy. Cripps expressed some anxiety on this score. I tried to reassure him, while cautiously intimating that the reply might indeed not be entirely favourable. I explained that on a personal level the Soviet government was well disposed towards Cripps, as he could see for himself in February (when he flew to Moscow from Chongqing), but when it comes to trade talks the S[oviet] G[overnment] would rather deal with a negotiator who represents the British government. Does Cripps represent the British government?…
There can be only one answer to this question. And Cripps understands this all too well.
23 May
The fog shrouding the operations in Belgium and northern France is gradually beginning to clear. The outline of the main events is taking shape.
The German breakthrough was carried out by 22 divisions, of which 12 were mechanized and 10 motorized. The breakthrough was a bolt from the blue for Gamelin and his staff. First, they thought the Germans had 5–6 mechanized divisions. Secondly, they were convinced that the Ardennes were impassable. That is why there was no second, never mind third, line of defence at the Sedan front. That is why 250,000 of the best French troops had been withdrawn from there and transferred to Belgium without adequate replacement. That is why second-rate troops were stationed in this section when the Germans advanced, while the major reserves were concentrated along the Italian border and the Maginot Line. As a result, the German mechanized units, having broken through, moved on toward the Channel like tourists, meeting no resistance and even fuelling their tanks from French petrol pumps.
The German breakthrough is still relatively narrow (no more than 100 km at the base and much narrower at the head) and has not been consolidated by massed infantry. The breach can be sealed off rather easily, if the Anglo-French forces act quickly. Up to 800,000 Allied troops are stationed north of the breakthrough (about 250,000 British, up to 200,000 French, and more than 400,000 Belgian). The major forces of the French are located southward. Weygand is said to be preparing a crushing blow against the Germans in the next few days.
But will the Allies act quickly and decisively? I don’t know. I cannot be certain.


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My general impression is that if England and France hold out for 1–2 months, they may avoid defeat and possibly score a moderate victory in the long run. But will they hold out? I don’t know. I cannot be certain about that either.
24 May
Events at the front are finding echoes in British domestic politics. There is no panic, but there is very great anxiety. At the same time, the prestige of Chamberlain and Co. is falling steeply. The wave of criticism and indignation against him is visibly mounting, and some (even in Conservative quarters) go so far as to demand: ‘Chamberlain should be tried for high treason!’
Knowing the ways of the British, I’m hardly expecting such a radical turn. I’m not even sure Chamberlain will have to leave the government right away. Nonetheless, vexation with the former PM is very intense.
The adoption of a new act by parliament on 22 May is another symptom of the anxiety seizing broad circles of the population. According to the new act, the British government has the right to mobilize and control the nation’s property and labour in the interests of the state. On paper, the law is very firm: the government can sequester or even confiscate any enterprise or plot of land, and can send any person to do any job should the interests of the war effort demand it. Somebody here has already spoken of this as ‘the introduction of socialism’ in England, carried out by peaceful means and within the space of just 2 hours and 43 minutes, the time needed to push the law through all the relevant legislature. See how intelligently they act, these clever Brits! Not like the wild, dishevelled Russians! Attlee, who tabled the motion in parliament, is being feted by many as the ‘creator of socialism’ in England.
All this, of course, is bourgeois demagogy. First, how will the law be implemented in practice? One need not be a prophet to foresee the actual course of events. Second, even if the law were to be implemented in a more or less serious way, it could create various forms of state capitalism, but not socialism, in England.
In addition to the law concerning the mobilization of property and labour (which only Gallacher and Kirkwood opposed), parliament passed, also unanimously, a law on ‘treason’, which significantly broadens the powers of the Home Office and effectively abolishes Habeas Corpus.
All is clear.
25 May


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I went to see Dalton. His ministry is like a fortress: barricades of sandbags at the entrance and men with rifles inside. Dalton welcomed me most cordially. He shook my hand, seated me in the best armchair, and beamed with pleasure. Dalton is terribly happy to be a minister and to be able to receive me in this capacity.
I spoke to Dalton about the Selenga and Vladimir Mayakovsky. He said the British government had already decided on their release, but technical execution of the decision would take a little bit more time (the matter must be coordinated with the French). Then I handed him a complaint concerning the arrest in Port Victoria, Canada, of the cargo carried by the Norwegian steamer Norbryn, which was bound for Vladivostok. Dalton promised to investigate the case urgently.
We then turned to more general subjects. Dalton shared many interesting details about the change of government. Then he assured me that the new government has drawn a line under the Anglo-Soviet relations of the past and wants to establish genuinely friendly relations with the Soviet Union. In particular, all Halifax’s memorandums concerning the trade negotiations will be relegated to the archives. The road ahead is clear. Dalton hopes that Cripps, whom the British government is sending to Moscow, will be able to conclude a trade agreement or at least pave the way for one.
Nice words. We’ll see where they take us.
26 May
I heard the following colourful story from a reliable source.
Churchill was appointed prime minister on 10 May. On the morning of 11 May Sir Horace Wilson (now referred to by all and sundry as Sir Horace Quisling), clean-shaven and impeccably dressed as usual, came to 10, Downing Street and, as if nothing had happened, proceeded to his room next to the PM’s office (under Chamberlain, Wilson had offices both in the Treasury, where he is permanent undersecretary and Head of the Civil Service, and in 10, Downing Street). However, when he opened the door, he found ‘German paratroopers’ inside, who had descended and occupied his room at night: red-headed Brendan Bracken was sitting at his desk and Randolph Churchill had made himself comfortable on the couch. The two ‘paratroopers’ looked meaningfully at Wilson, and Wilson looked meaningfully at the ‘paratroopers’. Not a single word was uttered. Sir Horace withdrew.
Then Wilson was invited to see the new prime minister. Churchill asked him to sit down and said: ‘Sir Horace, I’ve heard you have plenty of work in the Treasury.’


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Churchill paused and added even more emphatically: ‘Yes, Sir Horace, plenty of work!’
Wilson kept a respectful silence, studying his fingertips.
Churchill sighed and continued with a threatening note in his voice: ‘If I learn that you, Sir Horace, are engaged in anything other than Treasury business, …a different job will be found for you, say, …as governor of Iceland!’
The audience was over. And Wilson’s career as the British prime minister’s ‘chief adviser’ on all matters, particularly matters of foreign policy, was over, too.
Does this signify the end of Wilson’s career as a whole? Has he left the historical stage? Who knows?…
28 May
Leopold of Belgium has negotiated a ceasefire with the Germans behind the Allies’ backs, and even let the German troops pass through Belgian lines towards the British and the French. The Allies’ left flank was thus exposed and they had to regroup speedily and start a full retreat towards Dunkerque. Hopes of closing the German breach, if anyone still entertained them, had to be abandoned. The Allies must concentrate simply on saving their skin. They will do well to withdraw at least part of their troops from Flanders, but even that is far from guaranteed. I heard from many military experts today that the Allied armies have three options:
(1) to evacuate, which in the present conditions means that three-quarters of them are almost sure to die or fall prisoner during the operation;
(2) to fight their way southward and join the main French forces, which is clearly impossible owing to the massive German superiority in numbers and arms;
(3) to fight to the last cartridge, knowing that new supplies are all but inconceivable, and then for those who are left to surrender.
A grim look-out. When you think that there are up to 400–450 thousand Allied forces massed in Flanders!
Dark clouds hung over parliament today. Churchill made a brief statement about the current situation which he concluded with the following words: ‘The House must steel itself for grievous and painful news.’ A single question was asked over and over again in the lobbies: how could this happen?
Afterwards, I went to see Lloyd George in his office. He was very worked-up and upset. I had never seen him so alarmed.
In Flanders, Lloyd George believes, the Allies are facing a very great disaster. To break through to the south is impossible and to evacuate without incurring


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colossal casualties and the loss of nearly all military equipment is inconceivable. The Allies have only one port left, Dunkerque, and it is not among the best. The immediate prospects are grim.
What will Hitler do once the battle in Flanders is over?
Lloyd George doubts that his next step will be an attack on England. He cannot do so while leaving a battle-worthy 4 million-strong French army in the rear. It is most likely, therefore, that having completed the operation in Flanders, Hitler will focus his attention on France. He will either force it to sign a separate peace or will march on Paris. An attack on England, furthermore, would require new methods from Hitler. He would need to make certain preparations.
I asked Lloyd George whether Hitler might come out with a proposal now for a general peace.
Lloyd George shook his head. The old man’s opinion is that a general peace is impossible at present. For Hitler would undoubtedly propose conditions that would be absolutely unacceptable to England.
‘What do you consider to be unacceptable conditions?’ I asked. ‘Colonies?’
‘Oh no,’ Lloyd George replied quickly. ‘Colonies wouldn’t be a cardinal obstacle to peace. We and the French have too many colonies to manage them properly. This has been vividly illustrated by the findings of the royal commission charged with investigating the causes of the recent disorders in Jamaica. No, we could come to an agreement with Hitler about the colonies. The main obstacle is the issue of the navy. Hitler would demand that we surrender our navy. There are some things which the English could never accept. Surrendering our navy is one of them. The English would sooner die than agree to it.’
I asked Lloyd George what he thought about the possibility of a German invasion of England.
The old man lifted his hands and said: ‘A fortnight ago I would still have said that it was absolutely impossible. However, Hitler has succeeded in doing so many things which used to be considered impossible, that I refuse to make any forecast concerning an invasion.’
1 June
What is the cause of the Anglo-French defeat in Flanders?
For now, it is the military explanation which is the most obvious: namely, the Germans’ massive superiority in aircraft and heavy tanks. Everything else (the wrong deployment of reserves, confusion at the point of breakthrough, etc.), is of secondary importance.
The defeat, however, has not turned into a complete catastrophe, as was feared in London following Belgium’s surrender on 28 May. True, the Anglo-


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French army had to leave all it had on the battlefield – guns, munitions, tanks, etc. – but it seems that the majority of the men will be rescued. Of the 20 divisions (nine of them British) stationed on that front, about 75% have been brought back to England. There are grounds to believe that a further significant number will be successfully evacuated. The Anglo-French troops retreated in very good order and fought back hard and stubbornly. The Germans failed to stage a second Sedan at Dunkerque, as they had hoped. This is surely a great achievement from the purely military point of view, but… wars cannot be won by retreats, no matter how skilfully they are executed.
What will happen next?
Three options are being discussed in London political circles:
(1) Following the operations in Flanders, Hitler, together with Mussolini, may make a new peace proposal. But since, in the current situation, Hitler’s conditions are sure to be of a draconian nature, they are not expected to meet with any success in London.
(2) Aware that peace with England and France cannot be achieved, Hitler may attempt to conclude a separate peace with France right after his victory in Flanders.
(3) Finally, Hitler may decide that his most advantageous move would be a direct assault on Paris.
We shall see. One senses that there was a political reason for the defeat, as well as a military one. Indeed, the latter may have been more significant than the former. For the moment, though, I lack sufficient evidence to make a definitive judgement.
4 June
Churchill’s speech in parliament today made a powerful and favourable impression on MPs. This is understandable. On 28 May, the prime minister asked his colleagues to steel themselves for grim news from Flanders. Today he confessed that a week ago he had little hope that 30,000–40,000 men would be successfully rescued. Reality proved more merciful. Thanks to a tremendous effort, the valour of the troops, efficient transportation and excellent weather, 80% of the expeditionary corps trapped in Flanders (about 200,000 men) plus more than 100,000 Frenchmen were evacuated – in all, 335,000 men. An undeniable success, and one which supplied Churchill with an appreciative audience.
But that was not all. Everyone was pleased that the prime minister did not try to conceal the gravity of the current situation. He frankly stated that the Allies had sustained ‘a colossal military disaster’ in Flanders, that the situation at the front was very dangerous, and that, no matter how skilfully the evacuation


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had been carried out, evacuations do not win wars. At the same time, Churchill firmly declared that the struggle would continue and that England would even fight on her own if she had to!
At this point, I couldn’t help recalling Lloyd George and the Webbs.
Anyway, that’s the general mood. The events in Flanders came as a sudden and very unpleasant surprise to the British, but as far as I can judge they have not elicited panic or confusion. On the contrary: a wave of cool, stubborn, and truly British fury has evidently been gathering strength. This wave has even swept up groups on the extreme left. The British, by all appearances, will be fighting in earnest.
All this will inevitably lead to certain political consequences. The continued presence of Chamberlain and Co. in the government looks less and less feasible. Especially now that the officers and soldiers returning from Flanders take every opportunity to curse the former government which let them down with arms and equipment. Many demand that Chamberlain should be brought to court for high treason! Churchill, of course, will not take that step: he lacks the necessary heroism. But the removal of Chamberlain and Co. from the government at the first available opportunity becomes more and more probable. Each country has its own customs. In old Turkey, the sultans used to send silk laces to ministers due for dismissal. In contemporary Britain, the removal of Chamberlain might possibly be carried out by bestowing on him the title of ‘Lord of Birmingham and Munich’ upon his resignation ‘on grounds of ill health’. It must be ‘on grounds of ill health’ – that would sound very English. Chamberlain’s appearance in the House drew not a single cheer today. The audience held an icy silence. When Churchill appeared, he was welcomed with loud (if hardly deafening) cheers, but – which is most significant! – mainly from the opposition benches. ‘His people’ were largely silent, their eyes lowered. And yet, not a single cheer for Chamberlain! Just remember 13 May! Such a change in three weeks!
Yes, Chamberlain’s stock is plummeting. A fresh government reshuffle is in the air. In some influential circles it is even suggested that the government may become utterly leftist, to the point of including such people as Cripps and Pritt.
We shall see. I’m not inclined to believe in rapid change in England and am all too familiar with the British weakness for rotten compromises.
After Churchill’s speech I went to drink tea on the parliament terrace, where I met Randolph Churchill and Brendan Bracken. The latter has now become Winston Churchill’s private parliamentary secretary. We spoke about the military situation and the immediate prospects. Where will Hitler move next?
Both are convinced that Hitler will attack Paris and try to draw Italy into the war. Britain, they maintain, will be able to help France with air and naval forces and with an army of 15–20 divisions, which, however, Britain is not in a


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position to send to the front right away. In such conditions, will France be able to hold out under attack? My interlocutors could not be certain.
[The following entries focus on Maisky’s role in the appointment of Stafford Cripps as the British ambassador to Moscow. Churchill has often been credited with the appointment. In retrospect, he would regret not realizing sufficiently that ‘Soviet Communists hate extreme Left Wing politicians even more than they do Tories or Liberals’.
W.S. Churchill, The Second World War: Their Finest Hour (London, 1949), p. 118; see Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission to Moscow.
In May, however, the newly elected prime minister was preoccupied with the disasters inflicted on the French army and the British Expeditionary Force in France. Following a familiar pattern, it was Maisky who broached with Butler the idea of conducting negotiations ‘by word of mouth and not by notes’ and who mentioned en passant Cripps’s desire to act as a go-between. On 16 May, Butler conveyed the message to Halifax and urged him to ‘really move a little more quickly’ by appointing Maurice Peterson (who had just been recalled from Madrid to make room for Samuel Hoare) as ambassador to Moscow.
TNA FO 371 24841 N5812/5/38. On the pressure indirectly exerted by Maisky on Moscow to accept Cripps, see his telegram to MID, DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 159, and his own retrospective admission in Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 137: ‘Secretly I was delighted with the selection of Cripps for this purpose … but I gave no sign of this, and maintained an expression of complete diplomatic calm.’
That evening, at the instigation of Walter Monckton,
Sir Walter Turner Monckton, an outstanding radical barrister, he was director-general of the Ministry of Information, 1940–41, and later minister of defence under Eden during the 1956 Suez Crisis.
the foreign secretary had Cripps to dinner. The odd collusion between Halifax and Cripps dated back to their association with the World Alliance of Christian Churches movement, which had been inspired by Cripps’s father, Lord Parmoor. Cripps outlined his views on India and Russia, and offered to proceed to Moscow and exploit the changing circumstances following Hitler’s incursion into Holland, Belgium and France and Churchill’s appointment as prime minister.
Clarke, The Cripps Version, p. 184; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 16 May 1940.
The following morning, Halifax shared the idea with Butler, who enthusiastically endorsed Cripps. Butler suggested that Cripps should be allowed ‘latitude to discuss over a reasonably wide field with the Soviet authorities’.
TNA FO 371, 24841 NN5812/3/38.
Cripps’s arch-rival in the Labour Party, Hugh Dalton, now the minister for economic warfare, tried in vain to dissuade Halifax from appointing Cripps. All he could do was to ensure that ‘if he goes, he must have a policeman’ from the Ministry of Economic Warfare and ‘must have very close instruction and no power to make a settlement on his own’.
Pimlott, B. (ed.), The Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, 1940–45 (London, 1986), p. 10.
‘After the Cabinet meeting,’ Halifax’s diary records, ‘I talked with [Churchill] in the garden for a few minutes, partly about an idea I had had to send Stafford Cripps on an exploratory mission to Moscow, and partly about future prospects of the war.’
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 17 May 1940.
Visiting the Webbs on 20 May, Maisky, oblivious of the turnabout, appeared ‘angry and contemptuous of Halifax – “the pious old fool”’.
Webb, diary, 20 May 1940, p. 6882.
He had been manifestly ‘not very well pleased’ at Halifax’s insistence, at their only meeting since the formation of the new Cabinet, that any trade agreement would have to conform to Allied policy of restricting Soviet exports to Germany of commodities which were vital to the German war effort.
RAN f.1702 op.3 d.112 ll.22–5 and Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4; TNA FO 371 24840 N5524/5/38, 8 May 1940.
Earlier in the day, Maisky had been seen in the corridors of the Foreign Office ‘much perturbed’ by the news just coming in of the collapse of the French defence and the advance of the Wehrmacht as far as the Channel.
Rose, Baffy, pp. 170–1.
He could not know that at that very moment Cadogan was breaking the news to Seeds that he ‘would not go back to Moscow but that Sir Stafford Cripps, the extreme Left-Winger MP, is to go there on a


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Special Mission as with new National Govt (which includes all prominent Labourites) it is hoped that the Kremlin may prove more amenable than it was to me as representing the infamous (!) Chamberlain’.
Seeds papers, diary, 20 May 1940.
Summoned to Whitehall in the evening, Maisky was therefore pleasantly surprised to find Halifax amenable, ‘concerned at the unnecessary misunderstandings which seemed to have developed’ and proposing to send Cripps ‘to explore’ with the Soviet government how to advance the trade talks. Maisky was assured that not only would Cripps be equipped with full authority, but would ‘of course enjoy full liberty to explore in discussion any other question which he or the Soviet Government wished to raise’.
TNA FO 371 24847 N5648/40/38. Maisky’s more circumscribed report to Moscow is in RAN f.1702 op.3 d.112 ll.26–7; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4. Confirmation of Halifax’s pivotal role comes in Andrew Roberts, ‘The Holy Fox’: A biography of Lord Halifax (London, 1991), p. 254.
Stalin was shaken by the sweeping success of the Wehrmacht’s Blitzkrieg in France. He now feared that a special mission by Cripps might provoke Hitler, who would see it as an attempt to cement an alliance between Russia and Britain in an effort to thwart further German expansion. The solution he sought was to ensure that Cripps arrived in Moscow as a normal ambassador, replacing Seeds in a routine diplomatic procedure. Maisky returned to Halifax with Stalin’s qualified acceptance on 26 May. ‘The Soviet Government agrees to Cripps,’ Halifax entered in his diary, ‘but wants him to be an Ambassador. I told Maisky we meant to send an Ambassador, and hardly supposed the Soviet Government claimed to choose him for us.’ As it turned out, that is precisely what transpired.
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 26 May 1940.
]
5 June
At last, Cripps’s fate has been decided! But what a story it’s been!
It all began on 20 May, when Halifax summoned me and said that the Cabinet had decided to send Stafford Cripps to Moscow as special envoy. For about a week leading up to this, I heard ‘rumours’ from all sides that the new government wanted to turn a new leaf in its relations with the Soviet Union. It was being said that the prime minister would invite me for a heart to heart talk, that the question of the British ambassador in Moscow would be settled, and that the absurd ‘correspondence’ concerning trade negotiations would be annulled. Personally, I thought that the question of the British ambassador in Moscow should come first. And when Halifax began speaking to me about improving Anglo-Soviet relations, I expected to hear that either Seeds would be returning to Moscow or that the British government was going to request an agrément for a different ambassador. Halifax’s news concerning a special envoy greatly disappointed me and I inquired rather coolly about the purpose of this envoy’s mission. Halifax sighed, pondered for a moment, and said: ‘To explore the possibilities.’
‘What kind of possibilities?’ I asked.
Halifax replied that he meant the ‘possibilities’ of a general improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations, in particular the ‘possibility’ of a trade agreement with the USSR.


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I expressed my surprise that even now the British government was planning merely to ‘explore possibilities’, instead of getting down to practical matters, but promised to convey Halifax’s message to Moscow.
As was to be expected, the British scheme did not appeal to Moscow. Indeed, what need have we of some astral special envoy, whose obscure mission is to explore the possibilities? Moscow, however, took some time over the reply and finally sent it to London on 26 May. The answer was that the Soviet government was prepared to receive Cripps, or any other person authorized by the British government, only not in the capacity of a special envoy, but as an ordinary ambassador accredited on the same basis as I was accredited in London.
Meanwhile, the Foreign Office had been getting impatient. In the week between my meeting with Halifax and the arrival of the reply, Halifax and Butler asked me several times whether there had been a response from the S[oviet] G[overnment] and each time I had to disappoint them. On 24 May, Butler telephoned me and said that notwithstanding the absence of a reply from Moscow, the Foreign Office had decided, after receiving Cripps’s consent, to send the latter off on his journey. The international situation, Butler said, was becoming increasingly threatening and travelling between London and Moscow more and more difficult – so why not let Cripps fly to Athens immediately and await his final instructions there. While Cripps was travelling, London and Moscow could discuss his status. What’s more, time would be saved: in Athens, Cripps would be halfway to Moscow. I told Butler I would prefer a different procedure: first London and Moscow should agree upon at least the key issues concerning Cripps’s visit, and then he could set out, otherwise all sorts of complications and surprises might emerge. Butler, however, stuck to his guns and there was nothing left for me to do but to convey the FO’s decision to Moscow. Butler said that Cripps would fly out from England with two travelling companions on 25 May.
I received the aforesaid reply from Moscow on the morning of 26 May and delivered it to Halifax that very evening (even though it was Sunday). The foreign secretary was confused and unpleasantly surprised. He told me that the issue of a British ambassador in Moscow had only just received the attention of the government. Four days earlier, it had been decided to recall Seeds and replace him with someone else. Halifax was just about to inform me of the decision and request agrément for the new ambassador. Unfortunately, not all the procedural details had been arranged, so Halifax would only be able to inform me of the name of the new ambassador in a few days’ time. But what should we do with Cripps in the meantime? After all, he had already left and was probably halfway there, perhaps even in Athens.
Halifax sighed again, pondered, and proposed a solution: let Cripps go as a special envoy, and in a couple of days the British government would announce


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the appointment of a new ambassador, who could arrive in Moscow in three or four weeks’ time.
I objected, saying that the Soviet government was ready to receive one, not two, representatives, and this sole representative must be the ambassador.
Halifax began fidgeting and tried to convince me that his proposal was highly practical. As a last resort, the British government would be prepared to give Cripps the rank of ambassador for the period of his mission in Moscow, though such a solution did not appeal to Halifax personally: the rank of ambassador is usually given in cases when the special envoy intends to stay in the country to which he is sent for a long period of time (like Hoare, who has just been appointed ‘ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary on a special mission’ to Spain), while Cripps’s mission was conceived as only a short-term measure.
‘Or at least I hope so,’ Halifax added.
In conclusion, Halifax asked me whether, regardless of my doubts, I could convey his suggestion to Moscow. I promised to do so.
My meeting with Halifax occurred between six and seven in the evening. At 9 p.m., when I was at home, the telephone suddenly rang and to my very great astonishment I heard the following words: ‘Cripps speaking.’
‘Where are you calling from?’ I asked in bewilderment, thinking that perhaps he was calling from somewhere in France.
I was wrong. Cripps was in England and was calling me from the aerodrome he was meant to have left from the previous day. But for various reasons, the plane was still there and take-off was only expected the next day. On Saturday morning I had been looking for Cripps and rang him at home. Cripps had been informed of my call and now wanted to know what the matter was. I laughed to myself about the coincidence and replied: ‘Two hours ago I gave the Soviet government’s reply concerning your visit to Halifax. I advise you to get in touch with him before leaving.’
‘What is the nature of the response?’ Cripps asked.
I briefly related the key points to him. Cripps thanked me and hung up.
An hour had not passed before the telephone rang again. It was Cripps: ‘I’ve just spoken to Halifax. Everything has been arranged. I’ll receive the proper appointment. Halifax will summon you to see him on this matter tomorrow.’
‘I shall be waiting,’ I said. ‘I wish you a good journey and a successful trip.’
Cripps thanked me and hung up once more.
The following day, 27 May, I waited in vain for Halifax’s invitation. Butler finally called at about seven o’clock in the evening and asked me to come to his apartment right away. I thought he wanted to inform me of Cripps’s appointment as ambassador, but that turned out not to be the case. Butler started questioning me once again about the nature of the Soviet government’s reply which I had conveyed to Halifax the day before, and tried to clarify


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whether there was any hope of the Soviet government agreeing to receive not one but two British representatives: the ambassador and the special envoy. I left Butler in no doubt. On parting, Butler told me that the matter of Cripps’s status would probably be resolved the following morning.
On Tuesday, 28 May, news of the agreement between Leopold of Belgium and the Germans reached London. The mood in town was one of alarm and vexation. The atmosphere in parliament was highly charged. I met Butler in the lobby after Churchill’s speech. He told me that the decision concerning Cripps had indeed been taken and that he would inform me about it officially tomorrow. Now, however, he could tell me unofficially that Cripps had been appointed ambassador.
‘Ordinary or “on a special mission”,’ I inquired.
‘I’m afraid, “on a special mission”,’ Butler replied.
‘That’s a mistake,’ I said. ‘It will only cause complications. It would be better to drop “special mission”.’
‘You think that would be better?’ Butler asked.
‘I’m absolutely sure of it,’ I concluded.
Nonetheless, when the next morning, 29 May, Butler informed me officially that Cripps had been appointed ambassador, it appeared that his rank was that of ‘ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary on a special mission’. Butler justified this by the fact that according to British law, an MP could not occupy a post whose salary was paid for by the government (the division of legislative and executive power!). Therefore, a member of the House of Commons could not be an ordinary ambassador, but only an ambassador ‘on a special mission’. Nor could he receive a salary from the Foreign Office, but must content himself with a ‘grant to cover his expenses’. However, such an ambassador should present his credentials on the usual basis, and is in no way tied to the duration of absence from the native country. Butler pointed to historical precedents, the most significant of which were the cases of Goschen,
William Edward Goschen.
who was appointed ambassador to Turkey in 1880, and Edward Grey,
Edward Grey, Liberal foreign secretary, 1905–16; ambassador to the USA, 1919–20.
who travelled to America in his day.
I expressed my regret at the British government not following my advice, but Butler disclosed that the Cabinet had already passed the decision and that the Foreign Office would send instructions to Le Rougetel
John Helier Le Rougetel, first secretary at the British embassy in Moscow.
(the chargé d’affaires in Moscow) that very day to request agrément for Cripps from the Soviet government.
‘True,’ Butler added, ‘Cripps’s appointment has not yet received royal approval, but that is not so important.’


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Le Rougetel was received by C[omrade] Molotov on 31 May and requested agrément for Cripps. Surely, C[omrade] Molotov told him that the Soviet government wanted an ordinary ambassador, not one ‘on a special mission’, adding that it was ready to receive Cripps or any other person authorized by the British government. C[omrade] Molotov also noted that the British government evidently desired to send a person of leftist leanings to Moscow. The S[oviet] G[overnment], however, thinks that it is not the personal convictions of the ambassador that matter, but the fact that he represents his government. If that condition is satisfied, we are indifferent to the ambassador’s party affiliation.
C[omrade] Molotov’s reply reached London on the evening of 1 June, and the Cabinet decided at once to satisfy our wishes and appoint Cripps ambassador without a ‘special mission’.
Cripps was hardly prepared for the ambassadorship: ‘I have no more idea than the man in the moon as to how I shall run the embassy! – which is, I imagine, a large establishment with many servants etc. etc.!! However all these things will no doubt sort themselves out in due course.’ Cripps papers, diary, 4 June 1940.
On the morning of Sunday, 2 June, the deputy head of the northern department, Maclean, invited Korzh to probe the possibility of allowing Postan
Michael Postan, born Moisei Efimovich Postan in Bessarabia in 1898, Postan studied at Kiev University, where he was an active member of a Zionist socialist party. He left Russia after the revolution and became a prominent medieval historian in Cambridge, in full denial of his past. He served as an expert on Russia in the Ministry of Economic Warfare during the war.
to join Cripps as commercial adviser to the embassy (Postan, a Russian born in Bessarabia, emigrated in 1919 and is now a British subject and professor of economics at Cambridge). Maclean also informed Korzh that Le Rougetel had been given new instructions to request agrément for Cripps as an ordinary ambassador.
Yesterday, 4 June, Le Rougetel met C[omrade] Molotov once again, having received agrément for Cripps. C[omrade] Molotov mentioned in passing the undesirability of Postan’s appointment. C[omrade] Molotov had no objections to Cripps arriving in Moscow prior to the receipt of his credentials from London.
Thus, Cripps’s destiny has at last been decided. Excellent. But there is one very curious thing.
The Foreign Office mandarins are furious at Cripps’s appointment. First, because he is not one of theirs, and secondly because he is Cripps. Hence all the sabotage. At first this manifested itself in the wish to send Cripps in the capacity of ‘special envoy’, and then in the raising of various juridical obstacles to his appointment as an ordinary ambassador (the Foreign Office planned to appoint Sir Maurice Peterson, the former ambassador in Madrid, as ambassador in Moscow). The Foreign Office ‘experts’ undertook an assiduous search for ‘precedents’, right back to the time of Queen Anne
Queen Anne of Great Britain, 1702–14.
(mostly on the question of the possibility of an MP being appointed ambassador), and found none. They joyfully informed Halifax and Butler that it couldn’t be done. But when the So


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viet government stood fast, the British government was finally forced to bestow on Cripps the rank of ambassador on the usual basis and juridical justifications were immediately found. The same ‘experts’ soon found a small ‘note’ in Sir Erskine May’s
Thomas Erskine May, British constitutional theorist.
treatise on parliamentary procedure, which states that an MP can be appointed ambassador without losing his parliamentary position. The complex problem was thus resolved. When Butler, in reply to a question in parliament, quoted this ‘note’, the Chamber burst into laughter.
However, I fear that the sabotaging of Cripps will not stop at that. The Foreign Office machine is too strong, while Butler, who seems to sympathize with Cripps, is not firm or influential enough to restrain the ‘experts’.


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Cadogan indeed warned that Cripps had ‘not yet won his spurs in diplomacy’. It was assumed in the Foreign Office that Cripps would not remain in Moscow as ambassador ‘for more than a brief period’; TNA FO 371 24847 N5689/40/38, 2 June 1940; Thurston, the American chargé d’affaires in the Soviet Union to the Secretary of State, 5 June 1940 in Foreign Relations of the United States (hereafter FRUS), 1940, I, p. 605. Cripps remained ambassador in Moscow until early 1942.
6 June
Yesterday morning, the Germans launched a massive new offensive on the Somme. Its aim is clear: to attack Paris. Will the French be able to cope with this onslaught?
Only the future can tell, of course, but I must openly admit that the experience of nine months of war inclines one to take a sceptical view of France’s prospects. All the more so as the British cannot provide her with effective support. They will assist in the air and at sea, but can offer practically nothing on land, primarily because they left all their military equipment in Flanders, and it will take them at least three months to patch the hole, or even just part of it.
Others share my scepticism. Randolph Churchill and Brendan Bracken, whom I met in parliament the day before yesterday, spoke to me in the same vein. They consoled themselves with the thought that even in the worst scenario the war in France will last two months or so, thus giving England time to prepare to fight on her own, about which the prime minister had spoken on 4 June. As regards France, neither of them was very confident.
Today, Boothby came over for lunch. He also admitted that, while he heartily wishes for France to succeed, he is far from certain, deep inside, that the French will be able to withstand the assault. Moreover, he does not exclude the possibility of a German invasion of the British Isles (according to Boothby, nor does the prime minister). As regards Churchill’s assurances about the continuation of the war even in the event of the Germans capturing these islands, Boothby is far from sanguine.
‘All that is all very well,’ he says. ‘The Empire will fight on until it wins! But what kind of Empire? It’s quite obvious that if the British Isles fall, the Empire


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as we know it will cease to exist. What will the new Empire be like? Will there even be one?’
According to Boothby, opposition to Chamberlain and Co. is mounting. Major changes in the government may be expected in the near future. But how could opposition not be mounting? I asked Boothby (he is now parliamentary secretary to the minister of food) about the country’s reserves of the most essential foodstuffs. It turns out that these reserves, while varying greatly according to the individual product, are in the majority of cases insufficient for more than two to four weeks. Even the available wheat supplies will last no longer than two or three months. I was staggered.
‘What’s Morrison been doing all this time?’ I asked (Morrison was the minister until early April).
Boothby shrugged his shoulders. Since being appointed, Boothby has been doing his utmost to establish ample food reserves in the country, but this will take time.
10 June
My scepticism regarding the ability of France to mount successful resistance to Germany is proving warranted. Today is the sixth day of the German offensive on the Somme, and the French army is already retreating, though still in an organized way, while Paris is being evacuated. A few more days and Paris’s fate will most likely be decided one way or another, and then… Who knows what will happen then? It’s hard to imagine France without Paris, and if Paris falls into German hands will France be able to continue any kind of meaningful struggle? Time will tell.
The situation has been complicated still further by Italy’s decision to enter the war on the side of Germany. This means that France will have to wage war on two fronts, in the north and the south. The problems are piling up. How will Spain behave? If Spain also comes out against the Allies, which is quite possible, France will be surrounded.
Yes, the next few weeks will be exceptionally dramatic and will play an enormous role in world history.
***
I met Butler today. I raised once again the subject of the Selenga and Vladimir Mayakovsky. My solution was that we take back the ships minus the cargo confiscated by the French (tungsten, molybdenum, etc.), and receive compensation in cash from the French. Butler jumped at the proposal and promised to get in touch with the French immediately. I fear that the latter


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have other things on their mind. Nevertheless, I’ll try to rescue the ships while a French government still exists capable of sending instructions to Indochina.
Butler is in a gloomy mood. He regards the situation in France as critical (we spoke before Italy’s declaration of war). Paris is in jeopardy. If the Germans take Paris, the French could still resist on the Loire, but they would have to abandon the Maginot Line. Reynaud and Weygand would undoubtedly want to fight to the death, but there is also a ‘peace party’ in France (Laval, Flandin and others). If Italy enters the fray, the situation will become even more daunting. And if Spain joins in, France will be besieged on three sides. A thoroughly bleak look-out. The British help the French all they can, but what can they really do? They have many men, but no weapons. Especially after their losses in Flanders. They are sending their planes to France – as many as they can.
Butler then spoke about what would happen to Europe should Hitler win. He would become the master of Europe. Is that really in the interests of the Soviet Union? After all, the USSR, like everyone else, is interested in maintaining equilibrium in Europe.
I replied that the Soviet Union could take care of itself regardless of the situation in Europe. I added, not very politely, that Butler’s arguments were somewhat belated. I nodded towards the room next to his office where the Non-Intervention Committee once held its meetings and said: ‘If England and France had taken a different stand then, they wouldn’t have found themselves in such a grave position today.’
Butler did not object to this.
***
I saw Dalton this morning. He was forthright as usual, full of energy, and chuffed with his ministerial post. I visited him on a ‘silly matter’: we bought 90–100,000 chests of tea in Hong Kong, and wanted to load them onto a steamer bound for Vladivostok. All of a sudden, the local authorities prohibited loading until they got the go-ahead from London. Dalton shrugged his shoulders, laughed, and said in Russian: ‘Chai… Chai… [Tea… Tea].’
He promised to make enquiries and settle the matter.
Then we discussed other topics. Dalton is glad that the Cripps issue has finally been resolved. He cursed the Foreign Office, whose people are far too bogged down in the routine of diplomatic formalities. Dalton had been constantly advising them to drop this ‘nonsense’ and simply appoint Cripps ambassador, but they wouldn’t listen to him. He’s pleased that Cripps is now ambassador and expects him to conclude a barter trade agreement before long.
Rumours have been doing the rounds this week that in tomorrow’s closed session of parliament the MPs will give Chamberlain and Co. a hiding for their 832former sins, after which the government will be reshuffled towards the left. Dalton denied these rumours. The Cabinet has decided that in view of the


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critical situation in France, now is not the right time for a reshuffle. However, much will depend on the behaviour of the House. An interesting detail: Chamberlain, according to Dalton, is now the most ‘radical’ member of the government as far as the conduct of the war is concerned. Sensing that a storm is on its way, he is covering his tracks.
As regards matters in France, Dalton is also fairly pessimistic, though he is adamant that England will fight alone should the worst come to the worst. He considers an invasion of the British Isles unlikely, and believes that nothing else can break the British people’s will to resist. Time must be gained, and then the balance of forces will shift in the Allies’ favour. Dalton reckons that by the beginning of 1941 the British and German air forces will be numerically equal, while in terms of combat efficacy the British will catch up even sooner, as their machines and pilots are far superior to those of Germany. According to Dalton, the average ratio of British to German air losses is 1:4. This is difficult to believe, but I have heard it more than once from very well-informed people.
11 June
Aras paid an unexpected visit. He informed me that he had just been to see Halifax at the latter’s invitation.
Halifax had immediately asked Aras whether he had received any instructions from Ankara in connection with Italy’s entry into the war. Aras said he had not. Halifax then expressed his point of view and made it perfectly clear to Aras that he expected Turkey to declare war on Italy immediately.
Aras replied that he had nothing to say on behalf of the T[urkish] G[overnment] for the moment, but he could share his personal thoughts if Halifax so wished. He then expounded the following view: Turkey will certainly remain loyal to its obligations under the pact, but the factor of expediency must be taken into account when fulfilling these obligations. What does that mean? It means that before taking any decisions on concrete steps, Turkey must consider three points: (1) the importance of safeguarding peace in the Balkans; (2) her friendship with the USSR; and (3) the need to maintain normal relations with Germany. The current direction of Turkish policy will be defined in the light of these considerations.
I asked Aras how Halifax reacted to this. Aras said that he was in complete agreement. Was he really?


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Aras then asked Halifax whether arrangements might be put in place for Turkey to spend some of its British credits on the purchase of goods in the USA and the USSR? Halifax promised to clarify this matter in Cabinet.
Then Aras started asking quite insistently whether or not I approved of his reply to Halifax. It was important for him to know this in order to write his report to Ankara.
I replied that his request placed me in a rather awkward position: how could I approve or disapprove of a statement made by the ambassador of another state? All I could do was remind him of the essence of our current policy: to observe neutrality and counteract by all available means the spread of hostilities to new countries and territories, especially neighbouring countries. Aras could draw his own conclusions.
Aras hastened to assure me that he was fully satisfied with my answer and repeated once again that the safety of the Balkans and the Near East depends entirely on close cooperation with the Soviet Union.
So it seems that for the moment Turkey will stay out of the war.
12 June
Events at the front are taking on an ever more ominous hue. Deep pessimism about the immediate prospects reigns in government circles. It’s thought that Paris will fall any day now, France will be occupied by the Germans, and the French government will soon move to London. Nonetheless, everybody remains adamant: whatever may happen to France, England is ready to fight on her own.
Italy’s entry into the war has not made a particularly strong impression here. There are two reasons for this: first, it was not unexpected, and everyone had already accepted the fact; second, the British have the greatest contempt for the fighting qualities of the Italians (some years ago I heard that Cadogan had called them ‘long distance runners’). I don’t know whether this contempt is justified. It could include a big dose of wishful thinking. We shall see.
***
The more serious the situation becomes, the more intense is the ‘psychological assault’ against me. Politicians, journalists, public figures – one way or another, they all try to put before me the following questions: Can the Soviet Union really remain indifferent to events in Western Europe? Do the defeat of France and the massively increasing threat to England really leave the USSR unmoved? Does the tremendous strengthening of Germany, and its transformation into the real hegemon of Europe, really not clash with Soviet interests?… Behind


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these questions lurks another, which is rarely asked openly: Why don’t you want to help us? I receive a stream of letters, some signed, some not, in the same vein.
To all these questions, and to all this ‘psychological assault’, I tend to respond tersely but emphatically: ‘Don’t worry! The Soviet Union will be able to take care of itself in any situation and under any circumstances.’
14 June
Paris has fallen. German troops are parading down the Champs-Élysées and the Grands Boulevards. Hitler has ordered flags to be hoisted and bells to be rung all over Germany. No wonder! Even Bismarck never saw such a victory in 1871.
The French army has retreated beyond Paris. The army seems to maintain relatively good order and is still battle-worthy, albeit battered and tired. The Germans, too, have apparently sustained great losses, are exhausted and drained. But the victory, of course, will lift their spirits. The French, I was told by Butler yesterday, had only 75 divisions. The Germans moved 100 against them, and now have as many as 120 (20 fresh divisions recently arrived from the Siegfried Line, where Italians replaced them). In addition, the Germans had an enormous advantage over the French in aircraft and tanks. The British aid after the defeat in Flanders amounted to no more than six divisions plus a large quantity of aircraft. Is it any surprise that the Germans captured Paris?
What will happen next?
Reports suggest that a number of ministers inside the French government (eight are mentioned) are in favour of an immediate peace treaty – a general one if possible, or a separate peace if this can’t be avoided. So far Reynaud has succeeded in prevailing on them to wait and give him a last chance to get real and meaningful help from the United States and England. Hence his final appeal to Roosevelt yesterday. At the meeting of the Supreme War Council held on 11 and 12 June, the British government promised France more active assistance: British troops are now being transported across the Channel in greater numbers. Ten to fifteen divisions are mentioned. Will this really be sufficient to help put France back on her feet?…
Evidently, the English have the following plan: to strengthen the French, prevent a separate peace, and gain time for their own preparations and to obtain equipment from the United States.
The other day I met Middleton in parliament. We discussed current events. Middleton came to the following conclusion: ‘The young generation of England, France, Germany and Italy will be annihilated in this war. The young generation of Russia will inherit the whole of Europe.’


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Agniya and I went to the Keyneses for lunch two days ago. We found them in a state of extreme pessimism. Lopukhova is utterly lost and stunned, and told Agniya of her feeling that the old world is dying and a new one is being born. The new world obviously frightens her and she doesn’t know what to do. She repeated several times: ‘If the British and the French were not ready for war, then why did they declare it?’
Keynes himself tries to behave in a manner befitting an economist and philosopher, but he confessed to taking a very gloomy view of the future. The ruling classes of England have gone to seed. That is now absolutely clear. New forces ought to take their place. Which forces? Keynes does not have a clear answer to that question. But he is convinced that England will fight long and hard, even if she is on her own. Keynes discounts the possibility of a German invasion of the isles.
Butler told me yesterday: ‘The war is having a great effect on England’s internal condition. Great changes are afoot. I don’t think we’ll have a revolution, but I think we will see rapid evolution.’
‘In what direction?’ I asked.
Butler replied: ‘Men like Bevin will assume much greater importance in our public and political life.’
So, Butler is putting his stake on Labour’s right flank. Maybe he is right. Maybe the next phase of British political development will be marked by the dominant role of men like Citrine, Bevin and Morrison. And then what?
Time will tell.
15 June
According to Czech sources, the main features of Hitler’s ‘plan for the organization of Europe’ allegedly boil down to the following.
Alsace-Lorraine goes to Germany, Savoy and Nice to Italy, and the Pyrenees to Spain. France is disarmed and turns into a de facto German protectorate under an obedient French government. Many German colonists are transferred to France and settled there (including former residents of the Baltic countries). The greater part of the French colonies in Africa are to be divided between Italy and Germany, with Germany, of course, getting the lion’s share.
Following its defeat, England also becomes a de facto German protectorate, on approximately the same terms as France. But the British Empire remains intact, with its centre in Canada. It incorporates, as before, Australia, New Zealand, and England’s Asian colonies, including India. This is done in order for the USSR not to profit at the expense of British colonies in Asia when the world is ‘re-partitioned’.


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At the end of the war, Germany and Italy will exploit the Balkans together, ousting the USSR. The latter will be left only with Bessarabia.
The same sources say that Hitler forced Mussolini into the war by setting him a dilemma: either Italy enters the war immediately or Berlin would come to an agreement with Moscow on the Balkan question, overlooking the interests of Italy.
***
Prytz told me today that at the request of his government he recently suggested the following plan to Halifax: northern Norway would be declared a neutral zone, both belligerents would withdraw their troops from there, and Sweden would send small military units to monitor the process. The Swedish government would be ready to enter into negotiations on this matter with Germany. Halifax’s reply was just typical: ‘But your proposal is… How can I put it… very irregular.’
‘But don’t you find,’ Prytz retorted, ‘that the time we live in is also very irregular?’
After lengthy persuasion, Halifax agreed to seek the British government’s opinion on the matter.
And four days later the British simply cleared out of Narvik, leaving the battlefield to the Germans!
16 June
I visited Lloyd George at Churt. The old man is in a very gloomy mood. He said he had been full of anxiety about the outcome of the war from the very beginning. His forecasts had been far from rosy. However, reality has far exceeded his most pessimistic expectations.
The Germans have completely ‘revolutionized’ war. The Allies turned out to be unprepared for this new war, in both the military and political spheres. Thanks to their criminal short-sightedness and class limitations, all these Baldwins, Chamberlains, Simons, Halifaxes, Daladiers and Bonnets failed to foresee anything and did nothing to avert the deadly danger.
‘They deserve to be punished severely by their peoples. They ought to be impeached. Instead, they remain in government! But they will soon be gone.’
France, according to Lloyd George, finds herself in a hopeless situation. She has been comprehensively defeated. Either she will sign a separate peace or she will be entirely occupied by the Germans within a couple of weeks. The French Empire and the French navy may survive, but France will cease to exist as a great European power. The only army on the continent (west of the Vistula) that could


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confront the German army has been crushed. The balance of power in Europe has altered drastically as a result. Germany becomes the hegemon of Europe.
There is still England. Peace between England and Germany is impossible. The Germans would certainly demand the surrender of the British navy (Hitler recently stressed once again that his aim is the destruction of British sea power), which is out of the question for the British. They would rather die than surrender their fleet. So everything points to war. According to Lloyd George, it will be a very difficult war. He does not even exclude the possibility of a German invasion of the isles, if not by sea, then from the air. Lloyd George proceeds from the following approximations: the Germans have 20,000–25,000 machines (compared with the Allies’ 8,000), including 1,000 transport planes capable of carrying up to 50 men each. So the Germans can drop 50,000 men in England in one go. These transport planes will not have far to go – leaving from Boulogne, Calais, Ostend, etc. – so the turn-over will be fast. Even taking into account British resistance and German losses, the Germans can land a 100–150,000-strong army on the British Isles in one day. The transport of heavy tanks, guns and so on may present certain difficulties, but… Hitler has proved more than once that he can achieve the impossible.
Of course, England will put up a fierce fight. But Churchill’s predecessors left him an awful legacy: there is an acute shortage of aircraft, tanks, artillery, machine-guns and even rifles. The previous governments had no idea of what contemporary warfare means. Hanging is too good for men like Burgin (ex-minister of supply). Heroic efforts are being made to make up for lost time, but one can’t make up for years of neglect overnight. The United States is willing to help England by all available means – in essence they have already entered the war – but the Americans do not have matériel ready in their storehouses either. They need to produce it first, and that takes time. Right now the USA can provide aircraft, tanks and so on in the hundreds, but it’s thousands that are needed. The time factor is working against the Allies. That’s why Lloyd George looks to the future with great anxiety.
‘Do you deem it possible,’ I asked him, ‘that the British government could be evacuated to Canada?’
‘Only as a last resort,’ replied Lloyd George, ‘but should that happen, it would mean that England had left Europe for good. Of course, many console themselves with the thought that Canada might become the new centre of the British Empire. Maybe. But that would be a very different British Empire!’
The old man waved his hand in displeasure and continued: ‘But if France perishes and England is defeated, that would be the end of the “European balance of power” which has been the basis of European politics for centuries and which has guaranteed the more or less independent development of the European nations. What would be left? Omnipotent Germany, drunk on its


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triumph and victories. And the USSR, one on one with Germany. What does the S[oviet] G[overnment] think about this? Can’t anything be done to stop Hitler’s march of victory through Europe?’
I replied: ‘The Soviet Union will be able to take care of itself under any conditions. You should have no doubt about it.’
Lloyd George shook his finger at me and said: ‘Beware before it is too late!’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked. ‘After all, we do take precautionary measures.’
‘Yes, I can see that,’ Lloyd George laughed. ‘I fully understand and approve your actions in Lithuania… If you eventually clash with Germany, you’ll win. Russia cannot be conquered. But victory will cost you untold effort and blood. The might of the German war machine should not be underestimated.’
We then spoke on other subjects, but the old man kept returning to the role of the USSR in the present events. I gathered from certain of his remarks that he expected the USSR to help England by selling planes and tanks.
17 June
France has capitulated. The F[rench] G[overnment] was in virtually continuous session all day yesterday in Bordeaux. They were discussing Roosevelt’s reply to Reynaud’s appeal for help, and also the general situation at the front. Judging by the communiqué released during the course of the day, it was obvious that the end was near. Late in the evening Reynaud resigned, whereupon a new government of a rightist-fascist bent, headed by Pétain,
Henri Philippe Pétain, marshal, head of the Vichy government in France, 1940–44.
was formed (Pétain, Weygand, Darlan,
Jean François Darlan, French fleet admiral in 1939; vice-president of the Council of Ministers, secretary of state for foreign affairs and the navy, acting secretary of state for war, and minister for national defence, under the Pétain government, 1941–42.
Chautemps and others). This morning the French government approached the Germans with a proposal for an armistice.
France has capitulated. Why?
Undoubtedly, Germany proved incomparably more powerful than France in terms of army strength, mechanization and aviation. But that is far from all; it may not even be the main thing. I’m growing more and more convinced that France capitulated because of its internal disintegration. The rule of the ‘200 families’ had its effects. It split France, poisoned its political atmosphere, emasculated it militarily, and paved the way for its present defeat. More than that, it introduced elements of decay into the French army and undermined its combat efficiency.
Maisky told Alexander, the new first lord of the Admiralty, that he was convinced that the French collapse ‘was not due entirely to force of arms but to the activities of about 200 families … who feared French Communism more than they feared Hitler’; Alexander papers, AVAR 5/8, 28 June 1940.
For isn’t it strange that during all these recent days I have not once heard of French soldiers using hand-grenades against German tanks?


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And yet such methods are highly effective and were used by our soldiers during the Civil War and by the Republicans in Spain.
What will England do now?
Clearly, she will fight alone. There is nothing else for it. I remember what Randolph Churchill told me a couple of weeks ago: ‘Even if the worst comes to the worst, France can survive without its Empire. Her economy is such that even if she loses her colonies she will be able to fare quite well as a second-rank power, rather like Sweden on a larger scale. England’s position is different: if we lose our Empire, we shall become not a second-rank, but a tenth-rank power. We have nothing. We will all die of hunger. So, there is nothing for it but to fight to the end.’
In England, news of France’s capitulation was received with dismay and shock. In the street today one could often hear talk of the impossibility of fighting alone. Politicians and journalists sighed voluptuously: ‘Ah, if only a revolution would break out in France and the Pétain government could be overthrown!’
Even the Tories have been speaking in a similar vein. No wonder! Some have hinted rather openly that a revolution in France is needed as a bait to draw the USSR into the war. ‘Paris is well worth a mass,’ said Henry IV. ‘The participation of the Soviet Union in the war against Germany is well worth a revolution in France,’ say British Tories today. They expect little from the United States. Even if the United States were to enter the war, the effect of this would not be felt in practice for another year. The United States has neither a trained army, nor a sufficient quantity of aircraft, nor ammunition. All this still needs to be created. But time is short.
18 June
Dalton asked me over to the ministry. He requested that we expedite a visa for Gifford, whom he is sending to Moscow as commercial secretary to help Cripps (instead of Postan). He expressed his hope for the quick signing of a simple barter agreement and inquired in this connection whether we could sell a certain amount of weapons and planes to England. I replied that there was not much I could say on this matter. Obviously, the British government will raise this question through Cripps in Moscow. Dalton said his ministry was working on the matter of communication routes with the Soviet Union. Apart from the northern route (via Arkhangelsk and Murmansk), the British also envisage a southern route (via the Persian Gulf and Iran). That’s war for you!
We discussed more general subjects as well. On the whole Dalton approves of our actions in the Baltic (just compare that with the response to the Finnish


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events three or four months ago!). He also asked me about our intentions in respect of Rumania and suggested that once the Soviet Union finds an appropriate moment to act, it should not content itself with Bessarabia alone, but should occupy the entire oil-rich region! What generosity! I responded to Dalton’s advice with these words: ‘The USSR does not grab foreign lands, even if they are rich in oil.’
***
I spent the afternoon in parliament. The dismay and shock of yesterday have passed. Today’s speech by Churchill has lifted morale. His firm statement that England, regardless of France’s defeat, will fight to the end was met with loud applause from all the benches. The prime minister’s arguments about the impossibility of a German invasion of the isles made a great impression. This was the only subject of conversation in the lobbies.
So, first England and France were waging war against Germany; now Germany and Italy are waging war against England. And this war is beginning to escalate. At the same time, the tide of indignation against Chamberlain and Co. is rising. Had it not been for Churchill, who stubbornly defends him, Neville would have been kicked out of government a long time ago. Why did he choose this course? Various explanations are suggested. Some say ‘out of gratitude’ for the allegedly ‘honourable’ manner in which Chamberlain ceded to him the post of prime minister. According to others, Churchill thinks Chamberlain will be less harmful within the government than outside it. There’s no denying that Chamberlain has a large group of MPs behind him. Inside the Cabinet, Chamberlain is a ‘hostage’; outside it, he would start scheming against the prime minister. A third group holds that Churchill’s abiding priority is to prevent a split in the Tory Party, which could happen if Chamberlain left the government.
However that may be, Chamberlain and Co. are still in the government. Since many Tories are well aware of the danger of such a situation, a number of Chamberlain’s ‘friends’ have been advising him to ‘make a gesture’ and resign, but he remains deaf to these exhortations. The political wits have even coined a title for the king to confer upon Chamberlain after he resigns: ‘Lord of Birmingham and Munich’.
The end of today’s sitting was marked by a rather unusual demonstration. The Labourite John Morgan
John Morgan, Labour MP for Doncaster, 1938–41.
took the floor and suggested that the House should mark the fact of Cripps’s arrival in Moscow and his accession to the post of ambassador. The suggestion was welcomed with cheers from all sides. Furthermore, MPs turned their faces to the diplomatic gallery, where I was


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sitting in the front row. Morgan then wished Cripps every success in his new job. Friendly approval echoed round the Chamber once more and Churchill, half-rising from the government bench and looking in my direction, waved his hand in salutation. Other ministers followed the PM’s example. Evidently, this was a sudden demonstration which had not been prepared in advance, since my presence in the diplomatic gallery at that moment was a matter of sheer chance. At the end of Churchill’s speech the diplomatic gallery had emptied out. I too went out into the lobbies. After a while I suddenly noticed that the MPs in the crowded lobbies were rushing back to the Chamber. When I asked what was happening, I was told that Lloyd George was speaking. I also rushed back to the diplomatic gallery, but caught only the concluding phrases of the old man’s speech. And then there followed the demonstration.
***
The Bulgarian minister Momchilov paid me a visit. He is in a very dark mood. He is entirely convinced that now that France has been defeated, events will begin to unfold in the Balkans, for the majority of Hitler’s land forces have been freed up. According to Momchilov, events will probably develop as follows. In order to resolve their oil problem once and for all, Germany and Italy will set their sights on Iraq and Iran via Egypt or possibly via the Balkans and Turkey. Even if they choose the first option, Turkey and the Balkan states will not be able to stay out of the war. Momchilov has heard that the Italians have promised to take an active part in military operations in the Iraq–Iran direction, but nowhere else.
23 June
This entry served as a basis for his telegram to NKID, DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 214.
Today it is already clear that the decision of the British government to continue fighting, notwithstanding the capitulation of France, has proved popular among the masses. It has gone down particularly well among the workers. The initial perplexity and confusion have passed. On the contrary, a surge of cold, stubborn, truly British fury is gathering momentum. The English, it seems, will resist to the end.
Such is the general backdrop. Upon it, some very significant patterns can be discerned.
The workers are more determined than anyone. Whether in the industrial north, or among the miners of South Wales, or the iron-workers of London, or the textile workers of Lancashire, the mood is the same: We shan’t let Hitler into our country! Down with Hitler! Down with fascism! This mood includes a broad range of variations among the workers: from the brutally jingoist slogan, ‘We’ll have no peace until we slaughter all the Germans’ (the most backward strata) to the newly emerging conception that ‘the war, which started out as an


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imperialist one, has changed against the will of its initiators into a just war of defence!’ (the most progressive strata, including a few communists). All anti-war speeches and talks have ceased. The communists, of course, take a rather specific position, but I’m speaking here about the broad working masses.
It is from this point of view that the masses assess people and actions: that which facilitates resistance is popular, that which prevents it is not. Morrison and Bevin are now very popular, as they have boosted military production and expunged the most insolent forms of capitalist influence in their departments. Churchill is popular because the masses see him as the only man who can ‘win the war’. In contrast, irritation and indignation against Chamberlain and Co. grow with every passing day. A few days ago, a meeting of 25,000 South Wales miners demanded that Chamberlain be tried for treason! Certain aircraft factories have also witnessed difficulties in connection with the extension of the working week to seven days. The workers said: We are ready to work seven days a week for the defence of the nation, but we don’t want to work seven days for this government (on the whole, however, the prolongation of the working day, etc. has met few obstacles). Opposition to Chamberlain is growing, and if Churchill does not relieve his Cabinet of this dangerous burden in time, the whole government may be put in jeopardy.
There is a clear split in the attitudes of the ruling classes. Churchill’s group stands for war to the end, for the sake of which it is ready to meet many of the workers’ demands in the sphere of domestic and economic policy. Chamberlain’s group, on the contrary, is scared stiff about the social and political consequences of the war and is ready to conclude a ‘rotten peace’ at any given moment, in order to retain its capitalist privileges. They produce a simple argument: better to be ‘rich’ in a small empire than ‘poor’ in a big one. This group has not given up hope of diverting Hitler to the east at some point in the war. Naturally, these people are keeping silent. Chamberlain even tries to play the ‘extremist’ in Cabinet in all that regards the conduct of the war. Nevertheless, Chamberlain’s group is a real ‘fifth column’. One detail is especially indicative. Chamberlain’s circles are now spreading the propaganda that it is not Chamberlain, but Baldwin who is to blame, since he pushed off the throne such a ‘good king’ as Edward VIII. Yet Edward was known as a fascistic Germanophile. Isn’t the ‘fifth column’ thinking of promoting Edward VIII to the role of British Führer when the moment is right? Time will tell.
So, war to the end. But what is the general strategic plan of the British government? Summing up the information available to me, I can venture the following.
The British government plans to remain on the defensive until about the end of this year: there are not enough men, arms and aircraft. By the beginning of 1941, the British government hopes to have overcome these difficulties, to gain


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superiority over the Germans in the air, and to move on to the offensive. Until then, England must be turned into an unassailable fortress, capable of repelling every German assault. In addition, it will carry out a rigorous naval blockade of Germany and Italy, which means, in the current situation, a blockade of all Europe. The French navy and French colonies are expected to play a major role in this.
At the root of this strategic plan lie fairly complicated motives. First, the shortage of men and arms, which the British government hopes to eliminate within the next six months with the help of the United States and the Empire. Secondly, an assumption that Germany will exhaust itself (especially in the spheres of oil, war resources, food, etc.). Thirdly, the hope that the international situation will change in favour of England. This envisages, first, the entry of the United States into the war and, secondly, if not the direct participation of the Soviet Union in the war then at least the worsening of its relations with Germany. The latter is reckoned as highly probable, in the event, for instance, of Germany and Italy moving to the Balkans and the Near East ‘in search’ of Iranian and Iraqi oil.
How realistic is the British government’s strategic plan?
The answer to this question depends on the answers to two others. Is Germany capable of starving out England? And is Germany capable of carrying out a serious invasion of England?
The answer to the first question is negative. First, England herself produces up to 50% of the food products she needs. Second, British tonnage amounted to 21 million tons before the war. About 1 million was lost in the course of the war, but was then recovered through the construction of new ships and the seizure of German and Italian vessels. Up to 7 million Dutch, Norwegian and Danish tons have also fallen into England’s hands. So the total tonnage at England’s disposal amounts to the massive figure of 28 million tons. Even if England loses 2–3 million tons in the next few months as a result of the intensification of the war, this will not be of decisive importance. The Germans, of course, will attack the ports as well. But even if they destroy half the ports, the other half, working day and night (the ports currently work only by day) will still be able to process the cargoes required by the country. All this means that England may have significant difficulties in supplying food and raw materials in the new phase of the war, but it cannot be starved out.
What about an invasion?
Very energetic measures are being taken to repel an invasion. There are 1.25 million troops inside the country (including the best units), and more than 1 million are undergoing training. The eastern and southern coasts have been fortified with artillery batteries, machine-gun nests, etc. Large forces have been concentrated in the coastal areas. Special mechanized units have already


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been organized, and more will be created. They are stationed at strategically important points and can easily be deployed in any direction. Detachments, anti-aircraft batteries and fighter squadrons have been positioned in the most crucial locations all over the country. Signs and directions have been removed from all roads, and barricades, bastions, fortifications and so on are being constructed. Airfields have been mined and are guarded by strong units. All potential landing sites are being rendered unsuitable for planes. A Local Defence Volunteers corps, numbering close to 500,000, has been set up (admittedly, not all have weapons yet). German and Italian residents are being interned, and some are even being sent to Canada. Some repressive measures have also been taken against British fascists (Mosley
Sir Oswald Mosley, founder in 1932 of the British Union of Fascists and its leader.
and others have been arrested). The greater part of the navy is in home waters. The air force is ready to rebuff an invasion. Negotiations are being conducted with Ireland about stationing Canadian and Australian troops there (but not English troops, so as not to irritate the Irish); apparently, they are going well.
Is all that enough to prevent an invasion? On paper it looks sufficient. When you start counting England’s defensive advantages, you see that the British are holding a full hand of cards. But will they know how to play them? I don’t know. The current war has already brought so many surprises, the Germans have displayed so much skill and invention, and the Allies such helplessness and unpreparedness, that I wouldn’t vouch for anything at the present time.
Time will tell.
25 June
The American ambassador Kennedy lunched with me today. He takes a gloomy view of British prospects. He doubts that England will be able to wage a long war single-handedly. He accepts the possibility of a German invasion of the isles. He thinks it utterly inevitable that England will be almost completely destroyed by air raids. Kennedy says the United States will be helping England in every way, with arms, aircraft, etc., over the next few months, but will hardly enter into the war before the presidential election, unless something extraordinary happens, such as the Germans using gas. Kennedy scolded the British government for failing to come to an agreement with the Soviet Union last year and said that the upper classes of British society are ‘completely rotten’. A rather unexpected judgement from a man of his status!
Maisky told Bilainkin that ‘Kennedy was sceptical about Britain’s chances of resisting attacks on the island’. He on the other hand, ‘was not pessimistic; everything depends on whether you use your cards, of which you have so many, in the right spirit, with resolution’; Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, p.152, 7 July 1940.
***


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I was in parliament today. Churchill’s statement concerning the latest events in France elicited great anxiety about the fate of the French fleet. People could talk about nothing else in the lobbies. In the corridor I bumped into Lady Astor, who started assuring me that communists are to blame for every evil: they’re the real ‘fifth column’ which prevented France from standing its ground! It was both ridiculous and infuriating. Eventually, my patience ran out and I said rather impolitely: ‘My dear Lady Astor, if you want to see a genuine “fifth column”, just look around you.’
***
Saw Alexander, first lord of the Admiralty. I asked him about the chances of a German invasion. Alexander assured me categorically that a major invasion was impossible: the navy would not allow it. Even if Hitler sent a thousand planes to attack at once. Alexander spoke guardedly about the future of the French fleet, but said that even if the entire French fleet in the Mediterranean were to fall into German hands, this would not have a decisive effect: the British would not allow the fleet to pass through Gibraltar and the chances of a German invasion of England would not increase. Is that really so?…
***
Clement Davis,
Clement Edward Davis, supporter of the National Government in the early 1930s, Welsh MP Davis resigned from the Liberal Party in 1939. He subsequently became chairman of the All Party Action Group and later leader of the Liberal Party, 1945–56.
an Independent Liberal MP, dropped in. He is in total despair. He says that the ruling classes of England are rotten through and through and compares their present state to that of the French aristocracy on the eve of the Great French Revolution. Hence their criminally short-sighted policy of recent years, which has led to catastrophe. Even now, with the change of government, the situation remains most unsatisfactory. Morrison and Bevin have done a bit to increase production, but they use old methods and operate within the old framework. As a result, there are still many failures and deficiencies. It is even worse with Churchill. He, of course, is full of determination and desire to carry on the war, but in order to save England at this crucial moment it is necessary to mobilize the enthusiasm of the masses. It is necessary to make this war a ‘people’s war’. That is why Davis launched a campaign for the universal arming of the population two weeks ago. But a different government is needed to awaken the genuine enthusiasm of the people – without Chamberlain, Simon and Co. The masses demand it. A powerful wave of discontent with the present government is rising in the country. But Churchill pays no attention to it and stubbornly protects the men of Munich. Why? Davis thinks he is doing so out of sentimentality: Churchill believes that Chamberlain displayed exceptional


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‘nobility’ in ceding the post of prime minister. Total nonsense! Chamberlain simply had no choice. Protecting the men of Munich may eventually lead to an explosion, to the collapse of the present government and its replacement with another one. Davis envisages a government headed by Lloyd George, in which the old man would enlist bold and energetic ‘young men’. But won’t this change occur too late for anything to be done?…
‘No matter how the war ends,’ said Davis, ‘the present rulers of England will be unable to continue ruining it. An entirely new world will emerge after the war. The old world will be razed to the ground.’
It is worth pointing out that Davis is the director of a big capitalist company!
***
Garvin came for lunch yesterday. He told me about a conversation he had with Ironside at the beginning of the war. Ironside was cock sure at the time. He pictured the war as an extended, calm period of waiting behind the Maginot and Siegfried Lines. The economic blockade was supposed to do the rest. Ironside’s attitude towards Hitler was one of the utmost contempt: ‘What will some degenerate peasant manage to achieve?’
As for the relative value of the German and Franco-English armies, Ironside expressed himself in the following way: ‘We and the French have many old officers who fought in the last war. That is a great advantage. The German army consists of greenhorns who never smelled gunpowder.’
These statements resound with a terrible irony today. Ironside proved a useless chief of staff. What if he proves to be a similarly poor chief of home defence?
27 June
I saw Lloyd George this morning at Thames House. Today he was in a better mood than at our last meeting, on 16 June. He thinks that even though England has lost a great deal in the course of this war, she still has enough cards to play and at least avoid defeat. She just needs to know how to play them. Does she?
That’s where Lloyd George’s doubts begin. The first condition of a successful game is a good government, a government which can arouse the enthusiasm of the masses, the workers. The workers are the sole hope. The ruling classes are rotten through and through. There is no point in seeking salvation there. There are individual exceptions of course, like Churchill, Eden and others, but the greater part of the ruling classes is rotten to the core. It is essential to kindle the enthusiasm of the broad masses. Is the present government capable of doing that? No, it is not. Is the new government which England needs conceivable?


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That question now hinges on Churchill. Is he ready to part with Chamberlain and Co.? Is he ready to bring fresh blood into the government? Is he ready to rely on a coalition of workers, Liberals and those Conservatives who support the prime minister? If he is ready to do this, England still has a chance of winning the war – that is, of avoiding defeat. If he is not ready, the situation may soon become critical. It seems to Lloyd George that Churchill is not yet prepared to take the necessary steps, as he is too scared of splitting the Conservative Party.
I asked Lloyd George whether he thought peace was possible.
The old man answered: ‘As you know, I advocated peace at the start of the war. I thought it possible. But then Denmark, Norway, Holland and Belgium were intact and France had not been defeated. At that point we could talk with Germany as equals. Now the situation is different. Today we would be cast in the role of supplicants. Germany would dictate its conditions to us. Its first condition would be the surrender of our navy. The British will never agree to that. They would rather die. In a situation like this, I’m against peace. We shall fight to the end.’
***
Bracken came for lunch (incidentally, it is said that he is Churchill’s illegitimate son). He was in full agreement with Lloyd George: he argued at length that the ruling classes have degenerated, and that the workers are the only remaining hope. Splendid. But when I asked him for any news about Chamberlain’s resignation, his answers became vague and uncertain.
He praised Beaverbrook: in one month he has increased the output of the aircraft industry by 40%. He cleaned the Augean stables in his ministry, sacked quite a few people, and reduced the types of aircraft produced to five models. Bracken pins great hopes on the United States and the Empire. As a result, by November–December England will catch up with Germany in the air and be able to think of offensive operations. But will the Germans allow England that time?
Bracken asserts categorically that a serious German invasion of the isles is impossible. He says that the home defence is led not by Ironside, of whom he has a low opinion, but by Churchill. In fact, this is Churchill’s main business today. The prime minister reasons in the following way: the Germans will first launch a campaign of furious air raids to destroy as many factories, ports, railways and other facilities as possible, and then they will make gigantic efforts to land a large army from the air and the sea. They may use gas. Bracken is convinced that England is now prepared to repel a German attempt of this sort.
We shall see. I lack faith in British forethought and efficacy.


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28 June
Little by little many, very many people’s gazes are turning towards the Soviet Union.
The ill-fated ‘Polish government’ recently came running to London together with its president. Polish premier Sikorski met Churchill and assured him, first orally and then in writing, that the P[olish] G[overnment] did not wish to impede in any way the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations. Government circles here interpreted this to mean that the ‘P[olish] G[overnment]’ is ready to formally relinquish its claims on Western Ukraine and Belorussia. We hardly need this renunciation, if truth be told; but as a symptom of the Polish mood, it is very interesting.
In less official Polish circles the following notion is gaining ground: if the Germans hold Poland, Polish nationality itself will eventually be eliminated. If Poland goes over to the USSR, Polish nationality will survive and even develop. Hence the conclusion: ‘Let it be a Soviet Poland, but still Poland!’
An equally radical process is afoot with Czechoslovakia. They have entirely lost faith in the Allies. It was not so long ago that Beneš told me he wanted to balance between the Allies in the west and the USSR in the east. Now Czechoslovakians tends to lean towards the USSR, seeing their salvation in our country. They are also ready to say: ‘Let it be a Soviet Czechoslovakia, but still Czechoslovakia!’
Our support is being sought by Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey and Sweden. They are all gripped by one desire: to avoid war one way or another! And they all reckon that only the USSR can save them from this ordeal.
***
A clean break between England and France. The British ambassador and his entire staff have left France. Corbin has resigned on the basis of his disagreement with Pétain’s policy. Counsellor Cambon stays on as chargé d’affaires, but evidently he, too, will follow Corbin very soon. People say – and it is only to be expected – that the entire French embassy in London will soon pack up and go home.
The rupture, however, is not the only issue. The British government clearly wants to go further. First, it aims to use all available means to seize the French fleet, which is dispersed all over the world: part of it is moored in British harbours, other parts are in Alexandria, Martinique, North Africa (Casablanca, Oran and Bizerta) and Toulon. Negotiations are being held with French seamen, who are being tempted, pressed and threatened. It is difficult to say what will come of this, but one thing is clear: the British are desperate not to allow the French fleet to pass into German hands.


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Second, the British government is obsessed with plans to form an alternative French government that would be ready to continue the war and that would rely for support on the French Empire, primarily North Africa and Syria. The reports issuing from the French colonies are contradictory. According to some, General Noguès
Charles Auguste Paul Noguès, general, member of Supreme War Council, 1936–39; commander-in-chief of the French troops in North Africa in 1939–40.
(commander-in chief in North Africa) and General Mittelhauser
Eugène-Désité-Antoine Mittelhauser, general.
(commander-in-chief in Syria) are against Pétain and in favour of fighting on with the British. Other reports say that they are hesitating and are inclined to follow those in Bordeaux. The latter seems more likely. Duff Cooper told me upon his arrival from Casablanca, where he and General Gort had been sent by the British government, that not only had he failed to win over Noguès, but he had not even been able to see him. Noguès avoided meeting Cooper and Gort, who departed empty-handed. It looks as if the British government’s dreams of an alternative government will remain just that – dreams. But it has not yet given up.
‘Eminent émigrés’ have started arriving in London from France: Pierre Cot, Kerillis,
Henri de Kerillis, formerly editor of L’Écho de Paris; director of L’Époque; delegate to Chamber of Deputies for the Seine, 1936–45; councillor for the Seine, 1936–45.
Pertinax
Charles Joseph André Géraud (Pertinax), foreign editor, L’Echo de Paris, 1917–38; editor, L’Europe Nouvelle, 1938–40.
and others. Blum, Paul-Boncour and even Herriot are said to be here, but I have not managed to verify this. All these people spend their time knocking about at the Savoy. Their condition is one of utter prostration and they argue ceaselessly among themselves on political matters. Hardly first-rate material for an alternative government.
29 June
Yesterday we had Lady V. for lunch, who argued passionately that England was moving rapidly towards a ‘revolution’. The aristocracy is bankrupt. The rich are on their uppers and soon there will be no wealthy people left, or only a very few. Life will become simpler and rougher, but more natural and healthier. Lady V. is taking some precautionary measures in anticipation of the changes: she has abandoned her luxurious apartment in London and the whole family now lives in a cottage in Denham. They travel in a tiny car. She is teaching her step-daughter cookery, needlework and washing. Lady V.’s husband has stopped ‘changing’ for dinner. And much else besides.
Of course, there is a great deal of amusing naivety in the deeds and words of Lady V. What is important, however, is that she has a sense, or more precisely


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a presentiment, of the proximity of the political and social catastrophe towards which England is heading.
Prytz and I sat and talked for three hours in ‘Mirabelle’ today. We discussed various matters – not only current events. Prytz’s general mood is quite remarkable. He thinks that the world is drifting towards catastrophe, recalling in its importance the fall of the Roman Empire. The old order has had its day. The ruling classes of England, France and many other states are rotten and bankrupt. The Allies are losing the war less because of a shortage of tanks and planes than because of the weakness of their spiritual armour. The Allied armies have no idea for which they would be willing to fight in earnest. For who can be inspired by the idea of ‘democracy’, as embodied by the regimes of England and France? The German army does have an idea – a stupid, crazy idea, but one which still inspires it. The Allied armies lack such an idea. That’s the crucial thing.
And yet Prytz is a major entrepreneur, a capitalist to his bones. He is head of SKF
A leading manufacturer of ball bearings.
and president of the match conglomerate founded by Kreuger.
Ivar Kreuger, Swedish industrialist.
True, Prytz is a clever and a progressive man, but still…
A sign of the times!
30 June
We spent Sunday in the country with the Azcárates. He has rented a large house with a garden for 50 pounds a year (that’s how much large houses cost nowadays!) and moved there with his family. There is great anxiety in the family: their elder son, who was in Paris when the Germans began to advance, is now stuck in France. They have no definite news of him. The son’s wife, a young dark-haired, dark-eyed girl from Barcelona is worried sick about it. She is looking after their three-month-old daughter, Carmen.
At the Azcárates, I met Negrín. I hadn’t seen him since the autumn of 1937, when we met in Geneva, where he had been sent on an assignment by the Republican government. Regardless of all the tribulations he has endured since that time, Negrín is still Negrín. Tall, massive, confident, with his spectacles and noticeably greying hair, he has held on to his belief in the future. He says, ‘Our time will still come’ and beseeches fate to let it come soon.
‘If only the Spanish Republic could be revived, even if takes two or three years!’ he exclaimed.
He asked me to convey a request to the Soviet government: to take all possible steps to prevent the transfer of the Republicans interned in France to Franco.


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Negrín said many interesting things about France. He is absolutely confident that the main reason for her collapse lies not in military affairs (although the shortage of tanks and aircraft played its role, too) but in domestic politics. The war was unpopular among the masses from the very beginning. Frequent desertion was observed. Why? Because the masses did not have an idea, a slogan, which would inspire them to fight. That slogan ‘defence of democracy’ – whose ‘democracy’? The ‘democracy’ of Daladier, Flandin and Laval? – could not inspire anybody. What’s more, from the very first days of the war, that ‘democracy’ launched a furious campaign of repressions against communists and ‘leftists’ in general.
A disastrous role was played by the socialists, the only party besides the communists with a link to the masses. To a man they sided with Daladier. The wing led by Paul Faure
Paul Faure, minister of state in Léon Blum’s governments, 1936–37 and 1938; supporter of the Munich Agreement and later of Vichy France.
(about a third of the party) began to drift directly towards fascism. In spite of all its attempts to dissociate itself from Faure, the wing lead by Blum (about 40% of the party) is not so very different: Blum’s main preoccupation was the struggle against the communists. Of all the socialists, only Ziromsky
Jean Ziromsky, a political journalist during the interwar period, Ziromsky advocated a rapprochement between the socialists and communists against the rise of Fascism. He appealed to the Spanish Republicans many times between 1936 and 1939, and took a stand against the ratification of the Munich Agreement. Retiring to his farm in Lot-et-Garonne in October 1940, Ziromsky participated actively in the Resistance.
and (later) Auriol opposed the anti-communist campaign, but they had few supporters. Pierre Cot (from the radicals) also considered it madness to wage war against the communists. As a result of the position taken by the socialists, and the difficulties imposed by persecution on communist propaganda, discord, confusion and dismay infected the masses, including the workers.
This was the atmosphere in which the notorious ‘200 families’ operated. Lebrun, Laval, Flandin, Daladier and others constantly dreamt of an agreement with Hitler, hoping to turn him towards the east. They worked intensively towards this goal, particularly during the Finnish war. The Soviet government displayed remarkable wisdom in choosing the right moment to conclude a peace treaty. Negrín has not the slightest doubt that if the Finnish war had lasted 1–2 months more, France would have made peace with Hitler and come out against the USSR. Thinking of ‘peace’, the political upper crust was little inclined to concern itself with ‘war’, with spending big money and effort on fortifications, armaments, etc.
As far as the military leadership is concerned, not only was it entrusted to mediocre men like Gamelin who were bewitched by the ‘Maginot Line’, but it basically had no wish to put up a real fight. The military leaders panicked after


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the breakthrough at Sedan. Gamelin and Co. decided that the game was up. The only way out of the situation was to turn the war into a ‘people’s war’, but that was just what Pétain, Weygand and others feared most. Small wonder! In spirit, they were all on the side of the fascists. Negrín himself observed how French officers throughout the war would devour Grenguar [untraced – he may be referring to Gregoire, though that was not a fascist piece of literature], Je suis partout and other publications sustained by German funds. Weygand and Pétain are admirers of Hitler. Particularly Pétain, who, as ambassador to Spain, openly demonstrated his very friendly relations with the German ambassador in Madrid, even during the war. That’s why as soon as this top brass had to choose between capitulation and a ‘people’s war’, it chose capitulation. As a result, the French army failed to put up strong resistance anywhere after the breakthrough. Negrín was on the Seine and on the Marne soon after the beginning of the German advance and was greatly surprised not to find any fortifications, or even primitive trenches. Later, he observed the same on the Loire. Paris was handed over not from military considerations, but because the ‘200 families’ were afraid lest a new Commune might arise there…
Bourgeois France is in deep decay. That is the main reason for the defeat.
1 July
My fears that the Foreign Office would sabotage Cripps by all available means are, I regret to say, proving well-founded.
Cripps arrived in Moscow without his credentials for readily comprehensible reasons: after all, he left London while still in the capacity of special envoy, and it was only during his journey that he became ambassador. During our discussions about Cripps’s status, Butler made casual reference to the credentials: what should be done if Cripps, on being appointed ambassador, proceeded directly from Athens to the USSR? To this I answered just as casually, and with an air of perfect innocence: ‘Send the credentials by telegraph.’
I had the impression that my reply struck Butler as something so obvious as to require no further comment. The conversation took place in early June. When the question of Cripps’s status was finally resolved, I felt sure that the FO had sent the credentials by telegraph.
What a surprise it was, therefore, to receive on the evening of 15 June (three days after Cripps’s arrival in Moscow) a copy of a telegram telegramen clair from C[omrade] Molotov to Halifax announcing the decision of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet to receive Cripps in the capacity of ambassador prior to his presentation of credentials, on condition that the said credentials be presented with all due haste. There had obviously been some kind of hitch. So I phoned Butler the next day to ask what had happened.


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It turned out that the credentials had not yet been sent to Cripps. I asked in great astonishment: ‘Why not?’
To which Butler replied: ‘The Foreign Office experts object to sending credentials by telegraph.’
‘So what are you intending to do?’ I asked, with still greater amazement.
‘We are sending the credentials with Gifford, who has just been appointed the new commercial secretary in Moscow,’ was Butler’s reply.
‘But how and when will Gifford get to Moscow?’ I parried. ‘You know how difficult it is to get to Moscow now. If Gifford travels via Vladivostok, say, Cripps will be waiting six weeks for his credentials. A fine position for him to be in!’
Butler admitted that the situation really had become a very tricky one, and added rather hesitantly: ‘Well, perhaps we’ll send the credentials by telegraph after all.’
I thought the matter had been settled. Alas, I was mistaken. Two days later I phoned Butler on another matter and enquired in passing whether the credentials had finally been sent to Cripps.
Butler answered in some embarrassment: ‘No, not as yet.’
‘But why not?’ I yelled down the phone in indignation.
‘Our experts,’ Butler explained, ‘are dead against sending credentials by telegraph… There has been no precedent… Moreover, they find it impossible to telegraph the king’s signature.’
I became absolutely furious, and told Butler rather sharply that the situation was becoming quite ridiculous and that the question of credentials had to be settled immediately.
‘But what would you advise?’ Butler asked helplessly.
‘What would I advise?’ I retorted. ‘Why not do one very simple thing? Why not invite me to the Foreign Office and show me the credentials? I could testify to my government by telegram that the credentials are in order and you could telegraph a copy to Cripps. Then everything would be settled.’
‘A brilliant idea!’ Butler exclaimed joyfully. ‘We’ll do as you say.’
That was 18 June. Another two days passed, however, before my suggestion was finally implemented. I was invited to see Butler on the morning of 20 June. He showed me Cripps’s authentic credentials, signed by the king, and even gave me a copy (together with a copy of Seeds’ letter of recall).
‘You know,’ Butler complained, ‘it was no easy task for me to bully our experts into making a copy of the credentials for you… There has been no precedent!… There are people in the protocol department who haven’t changed desks for 40 years. They are steeped in traditions and precedents. It’s tough with them.’
‘You know,’ I replied with some irritation, ‘if precedents are revered like this in all your ministries, you will definitely lose the war.’


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Butler gave a sour laugh.
That same day I informed NKID that Cripps’s credentials had been shown to me, and the FO sent the contents of these credentials to Cripps by telegraph. Just the other day the presentation of credentials to C[omrade] Kalinin was carried out. The Soviet government declared itself ‘satisfied’ with the telegraph copy. When Gifford reaches Moscow, the telegraph copy will be replaced with the original. Now everything is in order.
FO sabotage is quite something!
2 July
Today I learned many interesting details about the events in Norway from the Norwegian foreign minister, Professor Koht.
Professor Halvdan Koht, Norwegian foreign minister, 1935–40.
According to him, the British government, on its own initiative, declared to the Norwegian government at the very beginning of the war that it would consider any attack by Germany on Norwegian territory as an attack on its own lands. The British government even suggested putting this statement in writing, but Koht declined the offer so as not to create the impression that a military alliance existed between Norway and England.
The Norwegian government received information about German preparations for an attack on Norway more than once during the winter, but no attack followed. Little by little the Norwegian government ceased to believe such rumours. Three days before 9 April the N[orwegian] G[overnment] received fresh reports of a threatened assault but, drawing on past experience, did not treat them seriously. So the German attack struck the N[orwegian] G[overnment] like a bolt from the blue.
The N[orwegian] G[overnment] did not appeal to the Allies for help (Colban’s communication that three days after the German invasion began the N[orwegian] G[overnment] appealed to the Allies through the British minister in Oslo proves inaccurate). The Allies themselves ‘came to the rescue’. The cooperation between the Norwegians and the British was extremely fragile throughout the campaign. The British thought they knew better than the Norwegians and completely ignored their advice and suggestions. This led to a fundamental mistake. Norway had men but not enough weapons. But rather than immediately sending aircraft and weapons to Norway, the Allies began sending men without planes and virtually without armaments. Moreover, in whatever they did, the Allies were always too late. This was shown most vividly at Trondheim. The Norwegian government learned about the Allies’ decision


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to withdraw from southern Norway 24 hours before its implementation. As a result the Norwegian army found itself in an exceptionally difficult situation. Narvik was taken by the Norwegians, French and Poles (some 6,000–7,000 people in total) without the participation of a single Englishman, if we discount the British ships lying at anchor. When the British government decided to evacuate Narvik, the N[orwegian] G[overnment] asked that it be left the British arms and planes. With those resources Norway would have been able to continue the war. The British government, however, did not agree, under the pretext that it needed all this on other fronts. By an irony of fate, the planes which the British refused to leave to Norway failed to make it home, together with the aircraft carrier Glorious, which was sunk by the Germans.
Koht also mentioned the plan for the ‘neutralization’ of northern Norway (Prytz told me about this not long ago). According to Koht, this project originated not in Norway but in Stockholm, and was advanced by a Swedish friend of Göring’s. Koht deduces from this that the Germans would not have been averse to pursuing such a strategy…
The immediate reason for Koht’s visit was to clarify the nature of the relations between the N[orwegian] G[overnment] in exile in England and the Soviet government. Koht had taken an interest in this matter while still in northern Norway. The Soviet government answered then that relations remained normal and added (on its own initiative) that it had no claims on Norwegian ports. The N[orwegian] G[overnment] was touched. But how do matters stand now? Koht asked me to make inquiries and inform him of the Soviet government’s reply. I said I would do so. Koht also wanted to know whether the Soviet government considered it desirable to restore the independence of Norway after the war. I referred to the general principles of Soviet foreign policy.
The entire N[orwegian] G[overnment] is in London. The British government has offered it the use of a castle some 100 miles away from London, and the ministers will move there imminently. King Haakon is also here, but he will be staying in Buckingham Palace. The N[orwegian] G[overnment]’s finances rest on two foundations: the gold reserves which they managed to bring out of Norway and the income from Norwegian shipping which has been practically nationalized for the duration of the war and which is managed by the Trade and Shipping Mission in London (a large institution with about 250 employees). Up to 80% of Norwegian tonnage is presently located outside Norway.
Koht told me, among other things, that Germans are currently conducting a major campaign in Norway against the N[orwegian] G[overnment] and Haakon, demanding that the Storting should renounce the former and dethrone the latter. One hundred of the Storting’s 150 members are present in Norway, so a quorum exists. Koht does not exclude the possibility that Germany, by


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applying pressure in various forms, may force the Storting to make the decision it wants. That would be followed by the formation in Norway of a pseudo-government in German hands. Koht did not say so directly, but he was obviously concerned by the question: How would the Soviet government act in this case? Would it recognize a pseudo-government or not?
I informed Koht that we would be closing our mission in Oslo imminently, leaving only a consulate. This seemed to give him some cheer.
Koht said that eleven years ago, on his way from Oslo to Moscow (then he was just a professor), he paid me a visit in Helsinki. I tried but simply couldn’t recall this.
3 July
Today Colban sent me official documents which make it clear that the Presidium of the Storting has appealed to King Haakon to abdicate, but the king refused.
4 July
Churchill’s speech in parliament today was a personal triumph and, at the same time, a significant display of patriotism.
Initially, the mood in the House was hard to determine. Churchill’s appearance was welcomed with noises that were encouraging without being particularly impressive or unanimous. As usual, most of the cheers came from the opposition benches, while the greater part of the Conservatives held a gloomy silence. This pattern was repeated when Churchill rose to make his speech.
But the longer this brilliant and skilful performance continued, the more it affected the mood of the MPs. Churchill’s topic, of course, was a sure winner. He said that the British navy had scored a great success, that the greater part of the French fleet was either in British hands or out of action, and that consequently the chances of a German invasion had fallen steeply… How could the House refrain from rejoicing? How could it fail to greet each rousing sentence of the PM’s speech with boisterous applause?
It could not. The House exulted and gave vent to its elation.
Then Churchill spoke about the future. He firmly and categorically refuted all rumours of a possible peace. He vowed to fight to the end. At this point the outburst of patriotism reached its peak, and when Churchill finished his speech and sank into his seat, the whole House, irrespective of party affiliation, jumped to its feet and applauded the prime minister for several minutes – a loud, powerful and unanimous ovation. Sitting on the Treasury bench, the


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tension draining from his body, Churchill lowered his head and tears ran down his cheeks.
It was a strong, stirring scene. ‘At last we have a real leader!’ was the cry echoing through the lobbies. Curiously, it was Labour which pronounced these words most often. For the time being, at any rate, talk of a ‘rotten peace’ can be put to one side.
***
Churchill’s speech represented, among other things, a reply to last week’s peace overtures by Germany and Italy, who conducted their ‘soundings’ via Madrid. The Spanish foreign minister presented Hoare with ‘his’ plan for settling the European war (the plan had actually been sent from Rome). It boiled down to the following:
(1) The internationalization of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal and the demilitarization of Malta.
(2) The division of Tunisia between France and Italy.
(3) The restoration to Germany of its former colonies, plus ‘something else’ (evidently, the Belgian Congo).
(4) The condominium of England, France, Germany and Italy in Iraq, Egypt and Morocco.
(5) Parity between the British and German fleets.
The Cabinet discussed the ‘Spanish’ plan and rejected it. The main reason? Hitler cannot be trusted.
***
Attlee and Greenwood came for dinner yesterday. They spoke of the difficulties with Ireland. The British government is offering De Valera the unification of Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland in exchange for Dublin’s aid in the war. De Valera replies that he will readily take Northern Ireland, but wants to remain neutral until an actual attack by the Germans. This is what happened with Norway, Holland and Belgium. It is clear that no agreement can be reached on this basis. So the British government has set about massing troops in Northern Ireland in order that, should the Germans try to land from the air or from the sea, it will immediately occupy all Ireland.
Attlee and Greenwood also confirmed that British air losses are on average three times less than German losses. The reason they gave for this is the superiority of British machines and pilots. The German pilots captured recently are still virtually kids, having barely undergone the minimum period of training. Perhaps this is so, but I find it hard to believe.


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[The collapse of France induced a dramatic change in the Soviet attitude to the peace offensive. Complacency gave way to profound concern, leading to the hasty occupation of Bessarabia and the annexation of the Baltic States. Ever since the shift in Soviet policy following the conclusion of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, Maisky had found himself in a perilous state. He was barred from the Kremlin’s decision-making process, at the same time as being socially and politically ostracized in Britain. He seldom received a diplomatic bag or newspapers from Moscow.
A description of his position is in Maisky’s letter to Kalinin, president of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union, from 6 November; this bears witness to Maisky’s increased isolation. The letter is reproduced in A.V. Kvashonkin, Sovetskoe rukovodstvo: perepiska, 1928–1941 (Moscow, 1999), pp. 416–19.
Being of Jewish origin, he could hardly watch with equanimity the blooming romance between Moscow and Berlin. Later on, he was indeed to find himself at the top of Hitler’s publicized list of those to be shot after the occupation of England.
On the list see W. Schellenberg, Invasion 1940: The Nazi invasion plan for Britain (London, 2000).
Maisky certainly reckoned with ‘the possibility of a temporary appearance of the Germans in London … I even inquired of Moscow how I should conduct myself if the Germans were to occupy the district in London in which our embassy is situated.’ The turn of events, however, meant that the persisting threat of a severance of relations was lifted as ‘the prolonged “winter of discontent”’ came to an end.
TNA FO 418/86 N5788/93/98, 21 June 1940; Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 104.
His relief concerning the German threat to the Soviet Union was replaced by a serious worry about the British ability to withstand a German onslaught and the probability of a peace agreement. The ‘Red Dean of Canterbury’ was quick to detect the change of tone in their ‘personal conversations’. The Soviet Union, Maisky appeared eager to impress on him, ‘was not anxious for a second Versailles’ and was ‘still less anxious for a swift triumph of Hitler & Mussolini, who doubtless would look next at the Ukraine & other spots’. Butler, too, found Maisky aware ‘of the gravity of the present situation’ and intent on convincing him that ‘now that the European equilibrium had been considerably upset it was not in the interests of his country or of ours that one Power should gain the complete hegemony of Europe’.
TNA FO 800/322 pp. 338–42, Johnson to Halifax, 13 June 1940, and minutes by Butler.
Likewise Bilainkin, almost a member of the household at the embassy, was struck (as he hastily informed Butler) by an ‘outstanding sentence’ in a conversation with Maisky following the fall of Paris: ‘We realise that the position is extremely grave and dangerous to us, just as much…’ Maisky described Britain as a ‘real Maginot line’, having the advantage of ‘being a complete line and not one of a small part of the territory’. There was no reason ‘why the Germans should not be held if you show enough spirit, in defence’.
Butler papers, RAB E3/9/74, memo by Bilainkin forwarded to Butler, 17 June 1940.
Speaking to Dalton, he expressed his confidence that Britain would win the war if she held out ‘for the next two months’, but he feared that during these months the country would be ‘in a position of great peril’.
TNA CAB 127/204, 25 May 1940.
His real concern, as he revealed to the Webbs,
See diary entry for 7 July 1940.
was that defeat might follow ‘a betrayal of the ruling class, somewhat similar to that of Pétain and his group’, after which there would be a revolution. The Russian chauffeur told Beatrice Webb’s maids that ‘the war would be over in two months’.
Webb, diary, 8 July 1940, pp. 6912–2.
On 28 June, Alexander, the first lord of the Admiralty who had just come from a meeting with Maisky, alerted Churchill to the Soviet apprehension about a peace agreement modelled on the French surrender. It was most telling that Maisky – who had little patience with Alexander’s ironic comment that, until recently, the British communists ‘had been leaders of a peace offensive’ – insisted that ‘the present attitude of the CPGB was to organize resistance against the invader’ and reiterated that the situation was ‘full of danger’.
Alexander papers, AVAR 5/8, 28 June 1940, and TNA PREM 3/395/1.
Briefed by Alexander, Churchill, who had not seen Maisky since taking office, met him on 3 July. The meeting (for which there is no entry


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in the diary) was, according to Maisky’s memoirs, ‘brief, but most significant’. It was a relief for him to learn that Churchill ‘categorically and forcefully denied rumours on possible peace negotiations’ and explained that his present strategy was ‘to last out the next three months’ before moving on to the offensive.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 99–100, and report to Molotov in DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 244.
Churchill had been advised by the Foreign Office to avoid any discussion of political value with Maisky, as ‘he was not in confidence of his own Government and is therefore useless’. ‘You don’t doubt Maisky being pro-British, do you?’ Randolph Churchill asked Beaverbrook, encouraging him to draw Maisky closer to his circle. ‘I don’t doubt this at all, Randolph,’ replied the press baron, ‘but I very much doubt whether Stalin is pro-Maisky.’
TNA PREM 3/395/1, 3 July 1940. Halifax rightly doubted whether Maisky would have received any report about Cripps’s meeting with Stalin. Maisky indeed complained to Molotov that he found himself in ‘a most awkward situation’ when he was asked by Churchill about the meeting, of which he knew nothing; DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 244; The Times, 16 Aug. 1967.
]
5 July
A visit from Pierre Cot, who has been swept onto British shores by the tide of events. He said that none of the major French politicians have come to London, while such people as Kerillis and Pertinax, who did come to London, quickly evacuated to America. Daladier, Delbos, Campinchi,
César Campinchi, French minister of justice, 1938; minister of the navy, 1937–38 and 1938–40.
Mandel and others, 50 in all, departed for North Africa on board a special ship soon after the armistice and are said to be in Casablanca, but Cot does not know the details. He himself is going to settle down in London and set up an unofficial leftist French committee that will publish its newspaper in London and maintain contact with France. Cot may go to the United States to raise money for this enterprise. The attempt to create in England a ‘National French Committee’ capable of serving as a counterweight to the Pétain government failed: the big names required for this could not be found. As for de Gaulle,
Charles de Gaulle, commander of the French army in exile after the collapse of France; chief of Free French, then president of the French National Committee, 1940–42.
Cot thinks he leans to the right, but is not interested in politics. He is surrounded by mediocrities. Most likely, de Gaulle will form his ‘French legion’ to fight within the frame of the British army, and that will be the end of it. It is hard to say how many will join this ‘legion’. There are at present 30–35,000 French troops in England (the units which did not reach Norway, the rest of the French who were evacuated from Dunkerque, and others). This, it seems clear, is the reservoir from which de Gaulle will draw his ‘legionaries’.
Cot told me many interesting things about France. His account fully corroborates what Negrín told me. At the heart of France’s crushing defeat lies the internal degeneration of the ruling elite. Cot drew a most vivid picture of this process. He spoke at some length about ‘female influences’ in politics. Every major French figure has a wife or, more often ‘MADBme de Pompadour’, engaged in politics. In the overwhelming majority of cases these are extremely reactionary politics. One should be thankful, Cot says, if the mistress is stupid,


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for then she can do less harm. But if she is a clever woman, she presents a very grave danger. Daladier’s mistress (MADBme Crussol),
Marquise Jeanne de Crussol.
for example, isn’t the brightest and could be tolerated. But Reynaud’s mistress (MADBme de Portes)
La Comtesse Hélène de Portes.
is very intelligent and witty, and she has played a fateful role in Reynaud’s life and in the history of the French government as a whole. Reynaud is not bad in himself. He has good intentions and a good grasp of the situation; but he is not strong enough: he is in the hands of his entourage, in which MADBme de Portes plays the leading part. She is an extremely reactionary lady. She is on friendly terms with MADBme Bonnet, MADBme Aletz and other ladies who not only share utterly retrograde views, but also maintain close ties with the Germans.
Daladier and Reynaud were neighbours, and their mistresses were not only acquaintances but also old social rivals; see May, Strange Victory, p. 326. Halifax noted in his diary that the French minister, Georges Mandel, had asked George Lloyd, Churchill’s special envoy to Paris, whether he could come away to London with him ‘but said that he had also


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“des bagages,” which Campbell interpreted to George to be his mistress. At this George drew the line.’ Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 20 June 1940.
By way of illustration, Cot referred to the case of his failed visit to Moscow. When he returned in April from his meeting with me in London, Cot had a serious conversation with Reynaud about relations with the USSR. Reynaud was entirely reasonable. He understood that relations with Moscow should be resumed, and even outlined a few measures in this direction in his conversation with Cot. Cot was pleased. A few days passed, but no practical steps had been taken. Cot visited Reynaud again and was confronted with a completely different scene: the prime minister hummed and hawed, spoke of difficulties and recommended caution. What had happened? MADBme de Portes and other persons from Reynaud’s retinue had intervened, and the PM’s good intentions had faded.
In early May, Germany attacked Holland and Belgium. The situation became critical. Reynaud summoned Cot and announced that he wanted to send him to Moscow as a ‘special representative’ to restore contact with the Soviet government. Cot said he was ready to go. Negotiations with Moscow were begun through Ivanov.
Nikolai Nikolaevich Ivanov, second (then first) secretary to the Soviet mission in France, 1939, acting temporary chargé d’affaires, 1940. Recalled from Paris in December 1940, after warning Moscow of German intentions to invade Russia, accused of undermining German–Soviet rapprochement and banished for five years’ imprisonment in Siberia.
Moscow’s position was clear, as it had been regarding Cripps: no ‘special representatives’ – send us a genuine ambassador. Reynaud was prepared to comply with Moscow’s request. But here MADBme de Portes, the entourage, and Daladier (the nominal foreign minister) intervened again: they were all against it. Reynaud chickened out. As a result, Cot was pushed aside and Labonne
Eirik Labonne, French ambassador to the USSR, 1940–41.
went to Moscow as ambassador.
Cot takes a quite definite view of France’s defeat: the top brass (which is closely linked to the degenerate political elite) simply did not want to fight in earnest. Also, had the war been waged in more or less ‘normal forms’ – that is,


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under the protection of the Maginot Line, which exerted an utterly hypnotic influence on France’s military minds – Weygand and other generals might have done their job. But when it became clear, after the German breakthrough, that only a ‘people’s war’ could save France, the top brass lost all desire to fight. And that’s hardly surprising. Who is Weygand after all? He is essentially a fascist, but a fascist made in France – that is, with a Catholic hue. Many simply call Weygand a traitor. Cot does not rule this out, but he does not have enough evidence to make such an accusation with full conviction. However, even if one assumes only the first charge to be true, that Weygand is a fascist, how could one expect even the slightest enthusiasm for a ‘people’s war’ on his part? The majority of the senior generals are reactionaries too, often fascists or fascist sympathizers. Cot thinks it probable that Weygand was guided by a single ‘general idea’ after the German breakthrough at Sedan: to stop fighting the Germans and to use the new situation to abolish the Third Republic and establish a fascist regime.
Indeed, after Dunkerque, the French army never fought seriously anywhere. A weak attempt at resistance was made on the Somme, but when that line shook, a systematic retreat began, masked only by feigned counterattacks. Bridges, factories, railways and so on were not blown up. Trenches and fortifications were not constructed even at the most important strategic points (on the Seine, Marne, Loire, etc.). Enormous quantities of arms and munitions, sufficient for the French army to resist for months, were left to the Germans. Nothing was done on the Italian border, although there were excellent opportunities there. Why? Simply because, after the breakthrough, the ‘200 families’ and military leaders had no intention of fighting in earnest. They just manoeuvred, waiting for a good moment to start negotiations with Germany.
Of course, this was an open betrayal of France. The lower ranks – soldiers and junior officers – sensed it, were angry, and protested. Cot himself heard how President Lebrun’s son, a young officer, indignantly called the generals ‘traitors’. Alas, it was these ‘traitors’ who had control of the military machine. There was no alternative leadership, and no plans for one. As a result, the indignation and protests of the lower ranks did not assume a constructive form, but were dispersed. Universal chaos, confusion and panic took their place. The consequences of this process are well known.
What next?
In Cot’s opinion, France is on the path to becoming completely fascist. Pétain, Laval, Flandin and others are just the first, transitory phase. They will not hang on for long. They are just paving the way for the real fascists, such as


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Doriot
Jacques Doriot, expelled from the Communist Party in 1934 for advocating a united front with leftist parties. Became a virulent opponent of the communists and founded the fascist French Popular Party. Snubbed the Vichy government and, backed by the Germans, recruited a French legion to fight Russia.
and Marquet,
Adrien Marquet, former socialist mayor of Bordeaux, he turned fascist and briefly served as the minister of the interior in the Vichy government.
who will soon take power. The Third Republic is dead. All the old parties, except the communists, are wholly discredited. The masses are in a state of profound disarray and confusion. Naturally, in such a situation the communists’ chances increase significantly, but Cot does not think that the Communist Party can become a decisive force in France unless Germany is defeated in the nearest future.
6 July
Paid a visit to Eden at the War Office. I hadn’t seen him for some time and I wanted to gauge his mood.
Eden, on the whole, is pleased. He is pleased that, contrary to general expectations, the Germans have not yet attacked England. This has given him time to reorganize the units dispersed during the retreat from Flanders, to arm them, supply them with uniforms and footwear, and deploy them. In the main, this has now been done. The army is ready to meet the enemy, and Eden thinks an invasion will be attempted very soon.
I posed Eden the same question that I put to Churchill a few days ago: what is the major strategy of the war, how does the British government understand it?
Eden’s answer came down to the following.
The first and most urgent task is to repel any attack on England. Every effort should then be made to achieve superiority over Germany in the air. Eden believes this can be done in approximately six months. At the same time, it is necessary to prepare a large, well-trained and well-equipped army, and also maintain a strict economic blockade of Germany and the countries it has occupied. Later, beginning in the first months or the spring of 1941, the British should move on to the offensive by air and by land. The British offensive ought to be facilitated by the fact that the blockade and its consequences should help undermine Germany from within.
I asked Eden whether he was thinking of concluding a peace agreement in the near future, and, if so, what kind of peace.
Eden categorically rules out the possibility of peace. The war will be fought ‘to the end’. The operation with the French fleet has clearly demonstrated England’s determination to fight.
A reference to Churchill’s decision to sink the French fleet, under the command of the Vichy government, at the port of Mers-el-Kebir outside Oran on 3 July.
England’s intentions are serious and unshakeable.


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7 July
Agniya and I visited the Webbs. As usual, Beatrice expressed a thought worthy of further consideration. Here it is.
England will undoubtedly be able to repulse a German attack on its islands. But it will not be able to win back France, Denmark, Norway, Holland and Belgium from Germany. As a result, a situation might emerge whereby Germany, depending on the European continent it has conquered, will not be able to defeat England, while England, depending on its Empire and possibly part of the French Empire, will not be able to defeat Germany. A stalemate will ensue. The Soviet Union and the United States might act as mediators and achieve a decent peace in Europe.
I learned from C. [possibly Cot] the following details of Cripps’s conversation with S[talin] in the presence of M[olotov] on 1 July.
Cripps raised four issues on behalf of the British government:
(1) General policy. Germany has seized the greater part of Europe and is about to establish its supremacy in Europe. It is swallowing up one nation after another. This is dangerous for both England and the Soviet Union. Couldn’t the two countries establish a common line of defence to restore equilibrium in Europe?
S[talin]’s reply: The Soviet Union is following the development of the European situation with the keenest interest, as it is the key issues of international politics which should be resolved in Europe in the near future as a result of the hostilities. However, the S[oviet] G[overnment] does not see any danger in the hegemony of a single state in Europe, still less in Germany’s ambition to absorb other nations. Germany’s military successes present no threat to the achievements of the USSR or to the existence of cordial relations between the two said states. These cordial relations are based not on transient, opportunist considerations, but on the vital national interests of both states. As far as the restoration of ‘equilibrium’ in Europe is concerned, that ‘equilibrium’ was suffocating not only Germany, but the USSR as well. That is why the Soviet government will do all it can to ensure that the former ‘equilibrium’ is not restored.
(2) Trade. Regardless of whether or not a common Anglo-Soviet line of defence against Germany is formed, the British government would like to develop trade between the two countries. The only restriction England imposes is that commodities imported from England should not be re-exported to Germany.
S.’s reply: The Soviet Union does not object to trading with England, providing two conditions are met. First, Soviet–German trade relations are our own business and we shall not discuss them with England. Second, some of the nonferrous metals imported from abroad will be re-exported to Germany to


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meet some of our orders for war material there. If the British government does not accept these conditions, trade will not be possible.
(3) The Balkans. The British government believes that the Soviet Union should assume control of the Balkan countries in order to maintain the status quo in the Balkans.
S.’s reply: It is the opinion of the Soviet government that no single power can claim an exclusive role in the unification and control of the Balkans. The Soviet Union is certainly interested in the Balkans, but it does not claim an exclusive role in this part of the globe.
(4) The Straits. The British government is aware that the Soviet Union is dissatisfied with the situation in the Straits and the Black Sea. It believes that the interests of the Soviet Union in the Straits should be secured.
S.’s reply: The Soviet Union is against Turkey taking unilateral control of the Straits, just as it is against Turkey dictating conditions in the Black Sea. The Turkish government has been informed of the USSR’s attitude.
8 July
Now that Cripps is finally settled in Moscow as ambassador of Great Britain, I am trying to recover his true image in my mind. Who is he really? What are his most characteristic features?
It is important to know this. One can then draw the appropriate conclusions about the prospects of Cripps’s employment in Moscow.
Cripps is a deeply English type. He was born in 1889, the youngest son of Lord Parmoor, who was a Tory all his life but became a Labour peer in 1924. Lord Parmoor is still alive, but he is very old and has retired from public view.
Nothing in Cripps’s childhood and youth foretold that he would become a major politician. On the contrary, his first interest was architecture and construction of every sort. Then, after finishing public school at Winchester, he began studying chemistry at London University. Cripps, however, soon dropped chemistry and took up law. He became a lawyer in London in 1913, while in 1914 he found himself in France, working for the Red Cross. A year later, Cripps returned to London and during 1915–17 he was in charge of an explosives factory (studying chemistry had come in handy). He returned to the Bar after the war, and in 1927 was appointed King’s Councillor [sic]. As a lawyer, his rise to the top was exceptionally fast and, which is most interesting, he earned a good reputation among both the workers and the bourgeoisie. He was particularly popular among the miners, whom he often defended in court. At the same time, as Butler once told me, his son-in-law Courtauld,
Samuel Courtauld.
a leading


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manufacturer of artificial silk who consulted Cripps on legal matters, considers him one of the most intelligent men in England. As a barrister, Cripps usually earned a great deal: 20–30 thousand pounds a year!
In 1911, at the age of 22, Cripps married the daughter of a naval officer called Swithenbank.
Harold William Swithenbank.
She bore him four children, a son and three daughters. Cripps’s wife Isobel is a wealthy lady (her annual income is said to reach 10,000 pounds). So the financial status of the Cripps family is that of the bourgeoisie, perhaps not the upper bourgeoisie by British standards, but quite ‘solid’ all the same.
Cripps remained outside politics until he was about 40. Only in 1928 did he join this important sphere of British life, and in 1931 he started representing the Bristol East constituency as an MP for the Labour Party. Cripps was expelled from Labour at the beginning of 1939 for advocating a ‘united front’, but his constituency remained faithful to him, and he continues to represent Bristol East in the House of Commons.
Cripps is undoubtedly a very intelligent and well-educated man. He is an English intellectual of the left who considers himself a radical socialist, but who has never had anything to do with Marxism. Cripps’s socialism is of a particular English breed – a mixture of religion, ethical idealism and the practical demands of the trade unions. Cripps is a republican, which is a rather rare phenomenon in England. In recent years he has spoken out sharply against royal authority, and for a while his name was ‘taboo’ in Buckingham Palace. Cripps is very emotional, hence his instability and the frequent contradictions in his speeches of different periods. What is especially valuable about Cripps is the fact that he has convictions and is ready to stand up for them. He has proved his honesty and courage in deeds on more than one occasion, especially in connection with the propaganda of a ‘united front’, for which he had to pay a heavy price.
Despite being, by British standards, a man of the far left, Cripps is deeply religious (not, of course, in a formal, churchly sense). He is a confirmed teetotaller and vegetarian, and even prefers to eat raw rather than boiled vegetables. Yet Cripps is a heavy smoker. He is exceptionally interesting to talk to. He is a fine orator, whose speeches are greatly influenced by the context in which he finds himself. In parliament and in court, Cripps is a model of logical, juridical eloquence. But at mass meetings he is transformed beyond recognition: the sight of a crowd goes to his head and he becomes a tribune of the people. His excited imagination carries him farther and farther afield and he skips his habitual ‘buts’ and ‘ifs’, becoming more left-wing than he actually is. That’s why he has often found himself in awkward predicaments. Cripps is a


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very feeble tactician. He does not know how to manoeuvre, how to wait for an advantageous moment, or how to handle people. It was only because of these shortcomings that he was expelled from the Labour Party.
Cripps is a typical political individualist, such as may be found in England fairly often. He is akin to Lloyd George in this sense. Cripps enjoys great popularity in the thinking strata of the proletariat and among more enlightened Conservatives like Churchill, Eden and others. Labour, the Transport House, dislikes him. Butler and, strangely enough, Halifax think highly of him. Perhaps it is religion that unites Halifax and Cripps. It is difficult to foretell Cripps’s future, but he will probably play a major role in the political events of the next few years. I’ve heard it said several times that Cripps is a future ‘left-wing’ minister of foreign affairs or ‘left-wing’ prime minister. Even such a man as Lloyd George, upon learning of Cripps’s appointment as ambassador to Moscow, told me: ‘I almost regret it. We need Cripps here more than in Moscow. He is the only major figure on the opposition bench.’
Cripps’s attitude towards the USSR is entirely cordial. I remember the courage and skill with which he defended us on behalf of Labour during the debate on the embargo in connection with the Metro-Vickers case. No doubt, he still has very good intentions in respect of Anglo-Soviet relations. But will he be able to improve these relations significantly? I don’t know. All will depend on the policy of the British government, which is much further to the right than Cripps on this matter. If only the British government could reform itself and allow Cripps to genuinely represent it. Will Cripps remain as friendly to the USSR as he has been until now? I don’t know that either. We’ve had quite a few bad experiences on that score. Time will tell.
[A member of a minority left-wing faction in parliament, Cripps now found himself in a crucial role as British ambassador to the sole major power in Europe which still retained its independence, even as he remained an outspoken opponent of the prime minister. Convinced that Russia would eventually find itself at war with Germany, Cripps hoped to lay the foundations for an alliance during the war which could pave the way to a post-war agreement. Hardly had he settled in Moscow than he advocated an agreement with Russia that would recognize part of her acquisitions (mostly in the Baltic States) and lead to the establishment of a south-eastern alliance with Turkey. His detailed plan for post-war reconstruction – a premonition of things to come – contained some very radical thinking: in the wake of the war, which was bound to lead to significant social changes on the home front, Great Britain must, he argued, ‘be prepared to regard herself as an outpost’ of the United States. Cripps presented his ideas in a letter that he addressed to Halifax and which was shown to Churchill. Churchill attached to the letter a note for circulation to the Cabinet, which he later tore up. Apparently the note ran as follows: ‘It seems to me that the ideas set forth by Sir S. Cripps upon the post-war position of the British Empire are far too airy and speculative to be useful at the present moment, when we have to win the war in order to survive. In these circumstances, unless any of my


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colleagues desire it, it seems hardly necessary to bring this excursion of our Ambassador to the USSR formally before the Cabinet.’
Cripps’s views are elaborated in a letter by Monckton to Lady Cripps, Monckton papers, Trustees 03/5, July 1940; Colville, Fringes of Power, 10 Aug. 1940, p. 215.
Churchill’s own message, which Cripps delivered to Stalin on 1 July (at their only meeting before the German invasion of Russia) was confined to a general declaration of a desire to maintain ‘harmonious and mutually beneficial’ relations between the two countries, regardless of their ‘widely differing systems of political thought’.
TNA FO 371 24844 N5853/30/38, FO to Cripps, 25 June 1940.
The concrete proposals which Cripps made to Stalin were aimed at establishing a bulwark against Nazi Germany in the Balkans. The timing, however – just a week after the fall of France – was inauspicious. Stalin feared that Britain, under siege and with no apparent prospect of victory, might try to embroil Russia in a war with Germany. He was as suspicious that Britain might sign a peace agreement with Germany. The ‘scramble for the Balkans’ that followed best illuminates the nature of Stalin’s frame of mind, as well as his modus operandi following the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact.
The annexation of Bessarabia in June 1940 (as stipulated in the Pact) has been perceived by most historians as yet another example of Bolshevik ideological expansionism. But the move was motivated by a need to improve the strategic position of the Soviet Union in the Black Sea area by securing control of the mouth of the Danube. This would bolster Russia’s position as a European power and establish a springboard to the Turkish Straits. It mirrored the concessions which were forcibly extracted from Finland after the conclusion of the Winter War of 1939–40 to protect the maritime approaches to Leningrad.
Stalin further sought to achieve the best preconditions for the Soviet Union at the putative peace conference, which he expected to take place in 1941–42. In view of the eventual formation of the Grand Alliance, it is rarely recognized by historians that throughout the 1930s the Russians regarded the Germans and the British with equal suspicion. Well into 1940, British naval dominance of the Mediterranean – taken in conjunction with the legacy of imperial rivalry between England and Russia, the Crimean War, the confrontation of 1877–88, the Balkan wars at the beginning of the twentieth century and British intervention in the Civil War after the Revolution – was perceived by Stalin to be as much of a threat to Russia as German expansion.
For a documented survey of Soviet foreign policy during that period, see Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion.
]
9 July
Met Lloyd George. The old man says that the British government has made good use of the respite, and that the island’s defence has been considerably improved. The chances of a German invasion have fallen. Lloyd George fails to see why Hitler is delaying his attack on England. He must have problems of his own.
Nonetheless Lloyd George’s mood is far from cheerful.
‘All right,’ he says, ‘so we’ll manage to repel the German attack. Then what?… Germany has carved out immense Lebensraum for itself from Norway to Spain. Let’s face the facts: Spain is also part of that Lebensraum. England alone cannot win back the countries occupied by Germany. Nor can England defeat Germany. How? What with? Countries cannot be conquered from the air, and we do not have and will not have an army sufficient for the purpose. An


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absurd situation results: Germany cannot defeat England and England cannot defeat Germany. What’s the solution?’
Lloyd George believes that the only remedy is the close cooperation of England, the United States and the Soviet Union. If this does not happen, Germany will remain master of the continent; peace, progress and indeed any form of tolerable life will become impossible for mankind.
I remarked that I had yet to detect the faintest sign of such a strategy. The relations of England and the USA with the USSR are inadequate even to ensure merely normal contact, to say nothing of ‘close cooperation’. Besides, the Soviet Union wants to remain neutral and will be able to take care of itself under any circumstances.
Lloyd George smiled slyly and said: ‘Time will tell. What seems impossible today may become possible in three or four months’ time. The situation is extremely dynamic.’
The old man developed his thought. It is, of course, impossible to imagine the move he envisages occurring under the present government in London. But that government is not eternal. A change is inevitable, despite Churchill’s stubbornness and Labour’s spinelessness. There is a swell among the masses, and the government has to be reorganized sooner or later. The crucial thing is to get rid of Chamberlain and Halifax. Yes, yes! Halifax must be removed! In fact, he is much more harmful than Chamberlain. Churchill has once again invited Lloyd George to join the Cabinet, but he refused to sit alongside the ‘Men of Munich’. But change is in the air. England is not like France. Of course, she too has her Pétains and Lavals. There are many in the House of Lords and the City who would follow the French right away. But England has her working masses. They are stronger and more influential than in France. So what happened in France will not happen here. There will be a government in London soon which Washington and Moscow can trust. Then Lloyd George’s scheme will become possible.
Then the old man described his position on the question of peace. Last October he was in favour of peace, as there was stalemate at the front, France was intact, and Norway, Denmark, Holland and Belgium had not been occupied. The correlation of forces was such that a decent peace was possible, ‘without winners or losers’. Now, the situation is entirely different. Now, a decent peace agreement cannot be concluded. The only conceivable peace would amount to England’s surrender. The country will not agree to it. And Lloyd George will never advocate such a peace.
In conclusion, Lloyd George spoke of relations between the USSR and Turkey, and in particular about the Straits. He recalled that in the last war an agreement was concluded which handed the Straits to Russia, and added that he considered the present situation with the Straits abnormal. In his opinion,


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the Straits should belong to the Soviet Union. This is dictated by the USSR’s huge interest in the Straits. This development would stabilize the general situation in the Near East, and would place an obstacle to German expansion in that direction.
I responded to Lloyd George’s comments by saying that we were not after other people’s lands.
10 July
Quite unexpectedly, after a six-week break (I last visited him on 26 May) Halifax invited me round. I arrived at six in the evening.
Halifax began with a semi-apology: he had nothing particular to tell me, but simply wanted to see me and have a chat. We hadn’t been in touch for so long, and the times are so complex and unstable.
I bowed to him and replied with a half-smile: ‘I’m entirely at your service.’
Halifax moved in his chair, crossed his long thin legs, and said: ‘Cripps has had a talk with Mr Stalin. A very useful and interesting one. They spoke quite frankly. I attach great importance to this exchange of opinions. We shall draw the appropriate conclusions.’
As the content of the talk was not known to me, I considered it best to maintain a polite silence and allow the foreign secretary to speak. For several minutes he elaborated in a rather nebulous way on the theme of Cripps’s meeting with C[omrade] Stalin, after which he asked me how long I had known Cripps and whether the Soviet government liked the new British ambassador. I replied politely, but in noncommittal fashion.
When this topic was exhausted, Halifax shifted his legs and asked in a somewhat melancholy tone: ‘Do you think that the misunderstandings which exist in the relations between our countries can really be dispelled?’
‘Yes, of course they can be dispelled,’ I replied, ‘if the British government takes a new political line. For the problem lies not so much in “misunderstandings” as in concrete actions.’
Halifax paused, as though he were digesting my words, before asking somewhat haltingly: ‘So in Moscow they think we were insincere in our negotiations last summer? That we did not actually want to come to an agreement?’
I replied that in his speech of 31 August, C[omrade] Molotov had expressed quite plainly our assessment of the Anglo-French stance at those negotiations. It was riven by internal contradictions. On the one hand, the British and the French feared Germany and wanted an agreement with the USSR. On the other, they feared that such an agreement might excessively strengthen the USSR. The failure of the negotiations was rooted in this contradiction.


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Halifax shrugged his shoulders and asked: ‘And do you, personally, agree with this analysis?’
‘I fully agree with it,’ I answered.
Halifax frowned and mentioned the difficulties caused during the negotiations by the formula of ‘indirect aggression’. I grinned and inquired: doesn’t Halifax now think, after the experience of ten months of war, that we were far more realistic in our appraisal of the methods of the current war than the British and the French? Halifax shrugged his shoulders again and remarked that the British and the French had feared that the formula of ‘indirect aggression’ might be exploited by the Soviet Union to take actions incompatible with international law in the Baltic States.
‘Your error last year,’ I objected, ‘and the error of your foreign policy in recent years in general, lies in the fact that you have always wanted to insure yourselves against every contingency. This is very difficult, perhaps even impossible. In practice, one always has to take a certain risk to achieve a result.’
‘For instance?’ Halifax asked with a somewhat twisted smile.
‘For instance, if you had made less of a fuss about the intricacies of international law last year, the result of the negotiations would probably have been different… And what is international law anyway?’
Halifax glanced at me with curiosity and asked: ‘What is it indeed?’
‘It is a set of precedents from the history of the right of might in international relations,’ I pronounced, measuring my words.
Halifax elaborated in his diary: ‘He amused me by his description of International Law as a combination of legal niceties originating in the will of the strongest Powers: cynical, but not altogether untrue.’ Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 10 July 1940.
Halifax nodded and said, with interest suddenly flickering over his features: ‘There is much truth in that.’
He paused, his eyes raised to the ceiling, sighed, and asked me a surprising question: ‘Do you think that a time will ever come when international matters will cease to be resolved by force?’
His question rather took me aback, but I immediately replied that not only did I think such a time would come, I was firmly convinced of it.
‘When?’ Halifax persisted.
‘I fear that we will diverge in our treatment of this issue,’ I replied, ‘because the question of wars vanishing from international relations is closely tied to the concept of the economic man of which you disapprove.’
I was alluding to the speech Halifax made before Oxford students a few months ago, in which he attacked the concept of the economic man.
Halifax smiled and asked me to flesh out my thought a little. I briefly explicated our notion of the causes of war and of the conditions under which they could be eliminated. By way of illustration, I referred to the experience gained by Russia and the USSR in handling ethnic minorities. Halifax listened to me attentively and suddenly said: ‘Nevertheless, not everyone in your country agreed with the new regime created by the revolution.’


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‘Of course they didn’t,’ I replied. ‘It goes without saying that the 130,000 landlords who used to govern Russia did not agree with the new regime. But what of that?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Halifax, as if he were apologizing, ‘you adhered to the philosophy that the good of the majority justifies the suffering of the few.’
I confirmed that this was so. Halifax then asked whether I believed the landlords in England to be as bad as they were in Russia, and whether they could expect the same fate. I replied that I was insufficiently familiar with the English conditions to take a definite view, but that I felt it was wrong to draw excessively literal parallels. Russia was an agrarian country, so the question of landlords was central to our revolution. England is an industrial country, so here it is not the landlords, but the bankers and industrialists who play the key role. My remark seemed to flatter Halifax and he added with relief: ‘Our landlords will be taxed out of existence, but I don’t think we’ll have an agrarian revolution… I’m sure, for instance, that everybody in my village would be sorry if something happened to my family.’
I looked at Halifax and recalled that I had heard the same words from many landlords in Saratov before the 1905 revolution. But in the year of the revolution furious peasants burned down their estates. Does history really repeat itself?
That was the end of our philosophizing. Halifax moved on to current events.
Halifax wrote in his diary: ‘With Maisky I had a general talk in order to keep relations warm. He was quite interesting from his beastly Bolshevik point of view about the Russian land system’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.4, 10 July 1940.
First of all, he asked what was happening in those parts of Poland which were transferred to the Soviet Union last year. I answered that they have become an organic part of our country, that elections are being held there, and that they are gradually adapting to the new life. Halifax then asked whether we thought it desirable to restore Poland as an independent state. He cited the opinion of Boheman
Erik Carlsson Boheman, Swedish state secretary for foreign affairs, 1938–45, ambassador to the United Kingdom, 1947–48.
(a Swedish deputy foreign minister), who told Halifax some time ago that in his view it would be better for the sake of European peace if the Soviet Union and Germany shared a common border, rather than having Poland between them as a buffer state. Such a buffer would represent [illegible] in European politics. I replied that the question of Poland cannot be resolved in abstract terms: it all depends on what kind of Europe we have in mind – a Europe governed by the ‘international law’ about which we had been speaking, or a Europe in which war would be eliminated once and for all. I added that the current views of my government on the question of Poland were not known to me.
Halifax asked whether the new border between the Soviet Union and Rumania had been definitively fixed. I answered in the affirmative. Halifax


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inquired, not without suspicion, whether we had any more wishes with regard to the Balkans. He was obviously alluding to today’s press report about the Soviet Union’s ‘ultimatum’ to Turkey. I laughed and said: ‘Do you remember the little folk tale I told you last September, when the eastern parts of Poland passed over to us?’
‘I recall it,’ Halifax grinned. ‘So now the peasant has recovered all his stolen property?’
‘More or less,’ I replied in the same tone.
‘How do you see it?’ Halifax continued. ‘Is the population of Bessarabia content with the changes that have befallen it?’
‘That depends who you mean,’ I answered. ‘The Bessarabian landlords, of course, are not best pleased, but the Bessarabian peasants are, just as obviously, quite content. For them, transferral to the USSR signifies national freedom and the improvement of their material well-being.’
I told Halifax that the Soviet government had already passed a resolution to establish the thirteenth Union Republic – that of Moldavia – and that the reforming of Bessarabian agriculture according to the Soviet model had already begun.
‘Don’t you think,’ Halifax continued, ‘that the Balkans might be drawn into the war in the near future?’
I expressed my doubts about this. Halifax also admitted that he is not expecting a military conflict in the Balkans at present: Germany and Italy are against it.
Then he asked: ‘Imagine that Hitler is run over by a bus tomorrow or that he is forced to quit the stage for some reason or other: would the present German regime be able to hang on? I doubt it. Neither Göring, nor Goebbels nor Hess, nor anyone else would be able to preserve it.’
I objected that this was too simplistic. After the death of Piłsudski, it was widely believed that the regime he had created would collapse in a few months, but in reality this did not happen.
‘But the regime of Beck, Edward Śmigły-Rydz
Edward Śmigły-Rydz, commander-in-chief of the Polish army in 1939; fled to Rumania, September 1939.
and others was rotten through and through,’ Halifax retorted with somewhat unexpected fervour. ‘The war proved it.’
‘I completely agree with you,’ I parried. ‘The internal regime in Poland was rotten, but it was already rotten under Piłsudski. The decay became more evident under Piłsudski’s successors, but they hung on to power for four years and might still be there now were it not for the war.’


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My example seemed to impress Halifax and he wanted to say something more when his secretary entered the room and reported that Lord Lloyd (the minister for the colonies) wished to see him urgently. Halifax’s face clouded over and he said, rising from his chair: ‘We must meet again and have a chat… It is so important to share our thoughts at this time: after all, we are entering a new world.’
We parted.
My conclusions:
(1) In general, Halifax, like many other representatives of the ruling upper crust, is full of dark forebodings and understands that the war will deprive the elite of its privileges. At a certain point, this could push him toward a ‘rotten peace’ with Hitler.
(2) In particular, as a consequence of the growing swell of opinion against Chamberlain, which this time is also hitting Halifax hard, the latter has to manoeuvre, and considers it profitable to demonstrate his contact with the Soviet ambassador. I doubt that this will help him.
11 July
Churchill’s speech on 4 July was a great boost to morale in the country and massively enhanced his personal authority. Once the danger of the French fleet passing into German hands had been eliminated, everybody breathed a sigh of relief… including the communists. So what if this required drastic measures? These only raised the prestige of the prime minister, who had not flinched from taking them. Anyone can see that it is now Churchill, not Chamberlain, who rules the country! Such are the sentiments that now dominate the country.
Naturally enough, these circumstances have strengthened the government’s position. But the movement against Chamberlain and Co. is growing. A few days ago the powerful National Union of Railwaymen (Marchbank is its general secretary) passed a unanimous resolution demanding Chamberlain’s resignation. This made a strong impression on political circles. Similar developments can be observed at present among miners, metalworkers and others. The article by Tucker, leader of the metalworkers, in Reynolds News is very symptomatic.
The Tories are divided on Chamberlain. Chamberlain has a definite majority in the Conservative faction elected to parliament back in 1935. But the Tory majority across the country (especially in the army, navy and air force), whose sentiments have changed radically since 1935, is definitely against him. On the other hand, the City, the Court and the party machine are in favour. The result is a very tangled knot. It becomes ever clearer that the top bourgeoisie wants to keep Chamberlain and Co. in government at any cost, as a guarantee that the Cabinet will not dare squeeze the privileges of the capitalist elite too hard


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in the interests of ‘victory over Hitler’. This elite does not fully trust Churchill. It considers him an ‘adventurer’ and a ‘romantic’ who can probably win the war but is unfit for the role of Cerberus to guard their bags of gold. A Tory MP clearly defined the position of the party majority at the meeting of the parliamentary Conservatives on 3 June. He said: ‘We shall on no account let a “left-wing” government be imposed on us under the pretext of war.’
***
Subbotić came to see me. He says that there are two versions of the Soviet position circulating in London.
The first version assumes that the interests of the USSR and Germany are mutually contradictory and that they must collide sooner or later, whatever Berlin’s and Moscow’s wishes to the contrary. This is the view of the Foreign Office, which formulates its policy accordingly.
The second version assumes that the Soviet Union is now banking on a world revolution and views powerful British capitalism as the main obstacle in the path to such a revolution. Therefore, the USSR aims first and foremost at bringing England to ruin and at destroying the City, after which the road to the revolution will be clear. Hence the Soviet Union’s support of Germany and its hostility towards England. This is the view taken by many diplomats.
***
Germanophile circles in Norway have demanded the abdication of King Haakon. Haakon refused.
***
I saw Aras. He is very alarmed and insists that the Germans are intentionally trying to undermine relations between Turkey and the Soviet Union, spreading all sorts of absurd rumours about Turkey (the 5th and 6th German White Books). Aras thinks that the T[urkish] G[overnment] should make a protest in Berlin and give the necessary clarifications in Moscow.
Regarding the situation following France’s defeat, Aras says: if Italy and Germany decide to occupy Syria, Turkey should actively intervene.
***
Azcárate told me the following.
Attlee invited Negrín to dinner a few days ago. It was an entirely private affair at Noel-Baker’s place. During dinner, Attlee asked Negrín ‘in the most cordial fashion’… to leave England. Needless to say, the British government will never expel Negrín from the country! Negrín, it goes without saying, is


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guaranteed the right to sanctuary in England! If he so wishes, he can stay here as long as he likes! But… the British government would be infinitely obliged were Negrín to go to America ‘of his own accord’. His travelling expenses, visa, etc. would be taken care of.
Negrín was refused a visa and was invited to dinner again, this time by Alexander, who asked him quite politely but urgently to quit England. He recommended New Zealand; Webb, diary, 28 Nov. 1940, p. 6998.
The meaning of this request is clear. The British government is flirting with Franco. Hoare is sending one desperate telegram after another from Madrid; Negrín’s stay in London may spoil the mood of the Spanish dictator. Hence Attlee’s request to Negrín.
What vileness! What stupidity! Leaving aside considerations of generosity, which seem to be of little concern to the British government, this move is entirely unwise from the purely military and political points of view. It is most probable that despite all Hoare’s efforts, Franco will eventually side with Germany and Italy. Then the British government, of course, will try to employ Republican forces against him, and Negrín would prove most useful. It would seem, therefore, that the British government should look after Negrín in case they need him in future. Besides, it could use this very card against Franco. But no! The British government says to Negrín: ‘Would you be so kind as to get out!’
And the manner in which it is done! Oh, naturally, we’d never agree to hang you! We are far too pure and noble for that! We wouldn’t like to dirty our hands! But if you would be so kind as to hang yourself, we would be so grateful to you, so obliged!
Genuine, well-bred English hypocrisy.
And Attlee’s role? Churchill and Halifax don’t want to sully themselves, don’t you know, so the Labour Party leader willingly does the dirty work for them. European social democracy performs its historical mission.
12 July
Eden and his wife came for lunch with the two of us, Agniya and myself. We were sitting in the winter garden. It was a beautiful day, and Eden was in a good mood. Looking through the garden’s open door, he said with a grin: ‘One could come to your place just to rest.’
‘You are very welcome!’ I responded in the same tone.
Eden asked me about our position, and reminisced about the past, his visit to Moscow, and our meetings and conversations during his stint at the Foreign Office. He remarked: ‘You know, the hardest thing for me during that time was to convince my friends that Hitler and Mussolini were quite different from British business men or country gentlemen as regards their psychology, motivations, and modes of action. My friends simply refused to believe me. They thought I


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was biased against the dictators and refused to understand them. I kept saying: “When you converse with the Führer or the Duce, you feel at once that you are dealing with an animal of an entirely different breed from yourself.” Some of our statesmen subsequently tried to approach the dictators in the same manner as they would approach business men. The results are well known.’
Then we discussed current events. According to Eden, the British government is in a state of great bewilderment. Numerous symptoms and pieces of information clearly foretold the beginning of a German onslaught on England on 6 July. Today is the 12 July, but there has been no attack. Why not? Members of the government are speculating, but are unable to reach any definite conclusion.
I suggested that the attack may have been deferred because of the fate of the French fleet. What if the initial plans for an attack had been based on the assumption that the Germans would have the French fleet in their hands, and now, after the events of 2–3 July, all these plans had to be revised. Such a process requires time.
Eden found my idea most interesting and, on the assumption that it was correct, began to develop it. He said, among other things, that whatever the reasons for the delay may be, the British government was very glad about it. It has more time to prepare. From the sea, England is now fully protected. The situation in the air is more complicated. True, the airfields are properly guarded, but there are too many natural landing strips in the country. An intensive effort is under way to ‘spoil’ them. All available digging machines in England have been recruited for the task. Teams of volunteers are also helping out. The outskirts of most big cities are already fairly ‘spoiled’, but two more weeks are needed to complete the destruction of natural landing strips all over the country. It would be good if the Germans gave the British this fortnight.
According to Eden, a large force is being massed in Northern Ireland. Since a joint Anglo-Irish defence of the entire island has not yet been agreed upon with de Valera, the British government has decided to muster a concentrated force in the north which could be deployed in any part of Ireland in case of emergency.
The causes of the France defeat were the last topic of conversation. In general, Eden has a fair grasp of these causes. I asked whether anything similar could happen in England, too.
Eden categorically rejected this possibility.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we too have such men as Laval, but they do not play a major role and carry no weight in government. Besides, our army, or at least the greater part of it, has already fought with the Germans and found that “the devil is never so black as he is painted”. This is terribly important. On the whole, army morale is high, and I do not expect any unpleasant surprises on this score.’


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[Eden was impressed enough by Maisky’s analysis of the prospects for a German invasion to send Churchill a personal brief:
Monsieur Maisky commented several times upon the manifest difficulty which confronted Hitler in any attempt to stage a sea-borne invasion. He seemed to have a surer grasp of this aspect of the problem than I would have expected. In his view a sea-borne offensive could not be expected to achieve anything unless together with an air-borne invasion … Monsieur Maisky admitted that even so he did not see how the problem of communications could be dealt with.
TNA PREM 3/395/1, 12 July 1940.
A prominent American journalist observed that ‘Maisky, with his practical grasp of day-by-day changes in thought and emotion, his genial but unruffled contemplation of the whole war in all its details, seemed to me one of the most thoroughly competent observers I had the fortune to meet in England.’
Sheean, Between the Thunder and the Sun, p. 203.
]
22 July
Nearly a month has passed since the French surrender, and what was already obvious then has now become even clearer. England is resolutely determined to fight Hitler ‘to the end’ on her own (who will define what ‘to the end’ means?).
The public mood – one of determination, perseverance and anger – is more robust than a month ago, especially among the working masses. England no longer has any allies to hide behind. No new allies are visible on the horizon and they are unlikely to appear there in the immediate future. England must rely on itself. This has forced the country to wake from its self-induced calm and recognize the menace confronting it. The result has been not panic or dismay, but a readiness to resist, which finds its most vivid and simple expression in the slogan: ‘We won’t allow Hitler onto our isles!’
The ‘appeasers’ have fallen silent for the time being – even in the City. In fact, Churchill’s prestige has grown immensely, for he now represents the full and definitive embodiment of the notion of resolute struggle against Germany, even though his motives and the motives driving the working masses may differ.
England has made big strides in its military preparations over the past month. Time has not been lost. There are 1.5 million trained and armed troops in the country (and on top of that 1 million in training), 2 million in the ‘Home Guard’ (volunteers aged between 17 and 65), and more than 600,000 women in auxiliary military organizations. The mediocre and worthless Ironside has been removed, and Alan Brooke
Alan Brooke, commander-in-chief, home forces, 1940–41; chief of imperial general staff, 1941–46.
has been appointed commander-in-chief. He is reputed to be a capable and lively general. The entire British coastline has


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been fortified: artillery units, anti-aircraft guns and machine-guns have been placed all over. The airfields have been mined, they are well guarded, and are covered by artillery batteries placed nearby: should they land, the Germans will be smashed to pieces by cannon-fire. Natural landing strips have been systematically ‘spoiled’ with the help of ditches, beams, barricades and other obstacles. All sign-posts and names have been removed from the main roads, which have been supplied with forts, bastions and obstacles. The cities have been put on a ‘war footing’. In particular, official buildings in London have been transformed into small fortresses. Forts have been built near bridges and at strategically important locations. A round metal bastion has been erected by the porch of 10, Downing Street. Rifle barrels, with bayonets fixed to them, stick out of its embrasures. The entrance to the B[oard] of T[rade] is protected with sandbags and machine-guns. The same can be seen at the other ministries. Air-raid shelters are being built on every street and their number is growing by the day. All approaches to England from the sea have been heavily mined. The fleet is concentrated in the coastal areas. There can be no doubt: the country has put up its bristles, and a German landing on its shores in the present circumstances would be very arduous indeed. If Hitler really does not have some ‘secret’ or other, I fail to see how he could manage it, especially when one considers that British air defence has made a big leap forward following the appointment of Beaverbrook as minister of aircraft production.
This is how things stand. In these circumstances it is hard to conceive of the possibility of peace in the near future. Hitler’s speech on the 19th, in which he enjoined England ‘for the last time’ to ‘recover its common sense’ and conclude peace, produced not the slightest effect here. Earlier still, the Germans and the Italians sent ‘peace feelers’ via the pope and Franco, but the British government replied with a terse ‘No!’ On the whole, it is difficult to imagine a ‘deal’ between England and Germany so long as Churchill remains prime minister. The appeasement outbreak in the Far East (the closure of the Burma–Yunnan road) cannot serve as a precedent for Europe. Churchill told me more than once in years past that he was ready to sacrifice British interests in the Far East temporarily for the sake of the struggle with Germany. He is merely remaining true to his word.
It is, of course, difficult to vouch for the future. It is hard to say what will happen if massive air raids begin, if the tension of waiting drags on and on, if things start going badly in the Empire, or if the British capitalist elite comes face to face with the threat of serious curtailment of its rights and privileges. But for now it is quite obvious that England is not like France. It will put up a tough fight against German invaders.


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23 July
Aras came over. He argued at great length that Hitler would not make a move against England because of the many difficulties involved. On the contrary, Hitler’s next blow will be directed towards Africa: against Egypt and Sudan via Gibraltar, Spanish Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Libya. If he succeeds, he will press on towards Iraq and Iran, ever closer to the oil fields. Aras asserted that good railways and highways exist all along North Africa, and that in 1912 Turkish troops crossed the Libyan Desert. Why should that not be possible now?
‘In general, moving towards Africa is far easier than moving towards Britain,’ Aras said. ‘Why should Hitler inevitably choose the difficult direction?’
There is a certain sense in Aras’s reasoning, but he has proved himself such a poor prophet during the course of the war that I am somewhat reluctant to believe him.
***
In spite of the efforts taken by the new government, shortcomings and failures are in evidence everywhere. Just a few examples.
Coal. The present annual output is 260 million tons. England’s domestic consumption amounts to 200 million tons. The rest was usually exported. Until recently it was thought that in view of the loss of its northern départements France would take 40 million tons a year. But now all export has ceased. Unemployment among the miners is inevitable. Grenfell (the minister in charge of the mining industry) is creating a coal reserve of 20 million tons. He has also appealed to all consumers of coal, advising them to stock up for the winter. But these are mere palliatives. Wait three or four months, and unemployment among miners will once again rise steeply.
Iron. England produced 14 million tons of iron ore in 1937 and imported 7 million tons. England has plentiful supplies of its own ore, which lie close to the surface (2–7 feet), but the metal content is no more than 30%. High-grade ores were imported from Sweden, Spain, Algeria and Morocco. Now all this has stopped or is ceasing. England tries to help itself by increasing its own production, but about two months are needed to rectify the situation. Metal has become the bottleneck industry. England imports high-grade ore, which is also indispensable, from Sierra Leone and Nova Scotia (3–4 million tons). The annual output of the metal industry is about 15 million tons of cast iron.
Machine-tools. The Ministry of Labour conducted a survey recently and established that machine-tools in the engineering industry are used on average for only 44 hours a week, even though many factories work two shifts. The reason? The capitalist system with its competition, lack of planning and so on.


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The clamour about the shortage of machine-tools is just a smokescreen. What is lacking is the organization of production.
Working hours at factories and plants are beginning to be shortened. The Ministry of Labour carried out a survey which revealed that the long working day (12 hours including overtime) and the abolition of Sunday as a day of rest reduces work efficiency. Therefore Bevin (minister of labour) has decided to return to normal weekends and to reduce the working day to 10 hours (including overtime)
Aircraft production is growing fast. Fifteen new aircraft factories should begin production in the period between July and October. When brought to full capacity, their joint monthly output will amount to 1,000 aircraft. The monthly output at present is approximately 2,000 [sic] aircraft.
The production of rifles is currently negligible: no more than 20,000 a month. For now England still survives on rifles imported from the USA. However, within three months it will boost its own production to half a million a month, once new machine-tools are ready to make rifle butts out of a special pulp.
25 July
A crop of amusing anecdotes.
(1) Simopoulos (the Greek envoy) told me the following political story the other day. Ciano went to visit God. In paradise, the Italian foreign minister behaved very indecently and freely mocked God, nudged him, and finally dropped him to the ground. Filled with indignation, God summoned St Peter and asked him: ‘What is wrong with that impudent young man who treats me so disrespectfully? Can’t you do something to mend his ways?’
‘All right, I’ll have a go,’ answered St Peter.
And indeed, Ciano’s behaviour changed beyond recognition overnight. He was most attentive towards God, kept bowing to him, and did everything he could to show his respect. God was pleased and turned to St Peter in surprise: ‘What have you done with him? He is a changed man.’
‘What have I done?’ responded St Peter. ‘It’s very simple. I told Ciano that here in paradise you are the most important photographer.’
(2) Prytz, with whom (together with his wife) we went to visit the Webbs today, described how when he arrived in London as ambassador he decided to make some improvements in the building of his mission. As the building and land had been leased by the Swedish government for 999 years, he had to request permission for the proposed changes from the solicitor of the owner (the duke of Devonshire, if I’m not mistaken). The solicitor answered politely


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that he had no objections, but added pro forma that according to the terms of the contract the owner could demand that the property should be returned to him in its present condition. On reading the solicitor’s letter, Prytz laughed and thought: ‘Just fancy bothering about what will happen 999 years from now!’
Prytz confirmed his receipt of the solicitor’s letter and made the changes he needed to make. As a ‘matter of routine’, he forwarded his correspondence on this question to Stockholm.
One fine day he received, to his total astonishment, an indignant reprimand from the Foreign Ministry: how dare he assume obligations for 999 years into the future on behalf of the Swedish government, without even obtaining any form of consent from the latter? There was no precedent for this in the entire history of Sweden!
Prytz had thought English formality to be in a class of its own. But even the English had nothing on the Swedes.
(3) And here is one more story Prytz told me. A fortnight before the abdication of Edward VIII in December 1936 he was in London on business (at that time he did not yet hold an official post) and was invited to a lunch arranged by his predecessor, Palmstierna. The lunch turned out to be thoroughly ‘political’. The Swedish crown prince
Gustaf VI Adolf, Swedish crown prince; married to Lady Louise Mountbatten, sister of Lord Mountbatten and aunt of Prince Philip.
was the main guest, but also present were Eden, the archbishop of Canterbury, and other distinguished figures. The issue of Edward’s abdication was in the air. Some persons close to the Court were asking the Swedish crown prince to use his influence on Edward to persuade him, in the interests of the ‘monarchic idea’, to sever all ties with Mrs Simpson
Bessie Wallis, duchess of Windsor.
so as to remain on the throne. The crown prince agreed in principle, provided the British government did not object. In fact, it was precisely in order to discover the government’s attitude that the lunch had been arranged. But as soon as the guests sat down to table and exchanged initial remarks on the subject in question, it became perfectly clear that there was nothing for the crown prince to do: the English guests immediately let it be understood that they desired Edward’s abdication, and did not wish him to remain on the throne. The archbishop of Canterbury was especially categorical. He told Prytz, who was sitting next to him, with a laugh: ‘I’m a very small and unknown man in the Empire, but do you think that even I could retain my job if I married Mrs Simpson?’
The Swedish prince did not have to save the crown for Edward VIII after all.
26 July


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Glasgow (dip[lomatic] corr[espondent] of the Observer) surprised me today. Having been a ‘pagan’ all his life, two years ago he suddenly felt dissatisfied and started ‘seeking God’. He met various spiritual luminaries, chatted with them, learned from them, etc., and finally, about a year ago, joined the Roman Catholic Church. Glasgow says he believes in a supernatural God, considers Christ to be the Son of God, and acknowledges life on the other side!
I reminded him of our conversation a few months ago, in which I stressed that every Church always gives its support to reactionary political and social forces. Glasgow agreed that this is so. He declared that he acknowledges all the rottenness of the Catholic Church, but… The Church is one thing and Christianity another. He tried to convince me, moreover, that all the most recent popes had been fighting against the ‘inequality of property’ created by the capitalist system. I grinned and asked him why in that case all the most recent popes had waged such frenzied campaigns against the USSR, a country that had eliminated the inequality of ownership along with the capitalist system in general?
‘That,’ replied Glasgow, ‘is because the Soviet Union is an atheist state.’
I laughed and told him how, in my school years, I embarrassed our priest by asking him point-blank: which is better – faith without deeds or deeds without faith?
‘That is a most profound question,’ Glasgow responded with animation. ‘It is, if you like, the fundamental question of contemporary Christianity.’
Glasgow then set about expounding the thought that in its essence ‘Christian faith’ not only does not contradict communism, it goes to meet it. And God, it turns out, is leading humanity to communism: capitalism collapsed in Russia and ‘in all Europe east of the Rhine’ as a result of the last war. Capitalism will collapse throughout the rest of Europe as a result of this war. Both wars have been sent by God: who could doubt the wisdom and goodness of the Lord after that?… Ravings of a madman… But isn’t all this characteristic of the spiritual decay of the bourgeois society of our days?
27 July
Dalton lunched with me yesterday. He says the British government sent instructions to Cripps eight days ago, advising him to agree to the conditions put forward by C[omrade] Stalin (in the conversation of 1 July) regarding the principles of the trade agreement. The matter, Dalton said, now lies with you. According to him, Cripps has been pressing on the FO the importance of a more cordial tone in the British press towards the Soviet Union. The FO likes to sabotage Cripps in general, and on this issue in particular, but Cripps’s pressure has nonetheless produced some results.


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Dalton is very keen to squeeze Germany, and also to spoil our relations with Germany. That’s why he once ‘recommended’ that we occupy not only Bessarabia, but the oil-bearing regions of Rumania as well. Today he ‘recommended’ that, in one way or another, we secure the nickel deposits in Petsamo for ourselves. I laughed off Dalton’s suggestions (as I did when we spoke about Rumania).
Dalton disagrees with the position of the British government concerning the Burma–Yunnan road and the Baltic States. He is inclined to explain the Cabinet’s stand on the latter issue in terms of the government’s orientation toward the United States. As for the deal with Japan, Dalton believes it would have been better to evacuate Hong Kong than to agree to the closure of the road.
Dalton told me an amusing story about Hoare. Hoare is in a state of permanent panic. He has got the idea into his head that Hitler dreams of capturing him and holding him as a hostage, threatening to lop off his head should circumstances demand it. That’s why Hoare has been inundating the British government with desperate telegrams of the ‘Munich’ type. In particular, Hoare protested against Dalton’s intention to make a statement in parliament yesterday, 25 July, about the decision of the British government ‘to put Spain on rations’. Dalton has had to postpone this statement until 30 July. Hoare also insisted that Negrín should leave England.
The British government, according to Dalton, wants to settle the question of the Straits; apparently, Cripps has even discussed this issue with the Turkish ambassador in Moscow.
28 July
The meeting of the Labour faction on 24 July was a very stormy one. For the first time since the creation of the new government the question of Labour’s general policy in government was raised. Is it the right policy or the wrong one?
The masses took Labour’s entry into government to mean the onset of a new era not just in the course of the war, but also in the domestic, and especially economic, life of the country. This impression was reinforced by the very ‘resolute’ act passed by parliament soon after Churchill came to power, which has given the government the right to requisition the property and labour of any citizen of the state. While dramatic events were unfolding at the front, while France was being crushed, and while English minds were dominated by the expectation of a German invasion ‘any day now’, the masses were stunned and remained silent. But now all this is in the past, and the daily threat of invasion has abated in view of Germany’s month-long passivity. The masses have come to their senses a bit and are beginning to ask: why have no essential changes been made in the economic structure of the country? Why do the capitalist classes still occupy


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all the commanding heights? And since the masses have failed to receive any satisfactory answers to these questions, their dissatisfaction is growing.
Such is the background to what happened at the Parliamentary Labour Party’s meeting on 24 July. A number of speakers (Shinwell, Bevan and others) attacked the leaders sharply along the lines indicated above. Attlee, Greenwood and other ministers defended themselves. The ‘opposition’, nonetheless, demanded a vote on the question of whether Labour’s policy was right or wrong. The leaders won, of course, but a whole third of the faction voted against them, which is highly significant. And while perhaps one shouldn’t overestimate the significance of this fact – especially its direct practical significance – it does, as a symptom of a general mood, offer a window onto the future.
31 July
This is what happened yesterday at a secret session of parliament.
Maisky takes particular pleasure in relating the content of the secret session. Sheean, the American journalist who was present at the session, recalled that he saw that ‘Maisky and the Duke of Alba, Franco’s ambassador, were the only foreign representatives of high rank there. The session was short, for Mr Churchill had decided upon a secret meeting. When he delivered the time-honoured formula for the exclusion of visitors he looked up at the diplomatic gallery and delivered it plain: “I spy strangers.” As we walked out, I said to Maisky: “Which is the stranger in this place, you or Alba?” He smiled his inscrutable smile, famous in London (we used to call him Il Giocondo), and said “Who can tell?”. And in 1940, indeed, it was not easy to be sure’; Sheean, Between the Thunder and the Sun, p. 206.
The Conservative, Wardlaw-Milne,
Sir John Wardlaw-Milne, a diehard Conservative MP, 1922–45, who attempted to oust Churchill in 1942.
who has big interests in the Far East, made an attack on the British government in connection with the closure of the Burma–Yunnan road. He gave an impassioned speech to the effect that it is impossible to pacify Japan and that any concession to the Japanese will only stoke their appetite in the future. Wardlaw-Milne’s speech made such a strong impression on the House that many MPs began demanding an immediate reply from the government, although Noel-Baker was supposed to speak on behalf of Labour after Wardlaw-Milne. As a result, Butler spoke next, and Noel-Baker had to wait his turn.
Butler spoke for about 50 minutes, mostly about Burma. He said that the Japanese navy was strong, while England could not send even a single ship from Europe to the Far East. The British government had consulted with the A[merican] G[overnment] and it had emerged that although the Am. Gov. sympathized with England, it would not be in a position to do anything practical in the event of an armed conflict between Great Britain and Japan. Butler cited a series of coded messages from telegraphic correspondence between London and Washington to corroborate his arguments. Furthermore, Australia insisted strongly on a peaceful settlement of the conflict with Japan because it had sent its troops to Europe and now feels unprotected. Under these circumstances the British government had no choice but to make a concession, even though it was very painful and unpleasant to do so. But the road was not being closed forever, only for three months! Butler had to admit, however, that nobody could foretell how things would stand in three months’ time.


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Responding to reproaches from the opposition that the British government had not consulted the Soviet Union on this matter, Butler said he had informed me of the British government’s intentions a day and a half before the prime minister’s statement in parliament. In conclusion, Butler announced that the British government’s policy in the Far East would remain unchanged: support to China and friendship with Japan. How exactly the British government is planning to square this circle, Butler did not deign to say.
Then Butler touched on Spain and thanked Hoare for his ‘work in Madrid’, which already appeared to have improved the situation, before adding cautiously that he could not vouch for the future.
He then turned to the USSR. Butler declared on behalf of the British government that England wishes to maintain and develop cordial relations with the Soviet Union and that Cripps has succeeded in establishing useful contacts with members of the Soviet government, but pointed out the difficulties standing in the way: the present disposition of the Soviet Union, says Butler, is akin to that of Peter the Great in its pursuit of purely ‘realistic’ policies. In particular, the USSR is currently busy swallowing up the Baltic States. The British government does not intend to engage in pettifogging politics, yet it cannot recognize the recent changes in the Baltic. Moreover, considering last year’s experience in Poland, the British government has refused to hand over to the Soviet government the Baltic gold held in England, since British citizens have claims towards the USSR relating to the Baltic States. However, the British government does wish to improve Anglo-Soviet relations and hopes that trade negotiations between the two countries will soon be resumed. But one must be careful not to overestimate the benefits of rapprochement with the USSR: the latter is not about to go to war at the moment, whatever happens. All the same, the age-old ‘struggle between the Teuton and the Slav’ and conflicts between Germany and the Soviet Union are objectively advantageous to England.
After Butler it was at last Noel-Baker’s turn to speak, and he sharply attacked the British government for its position on the Burma–Yunnan road, accusing it of pursuing a policy of appeasement. At this point Churchill jumped to his feet and exclaimed in indignation: ‘How can you hurl such an accusation against a government which has sworn to fight Germany to the end?’
Noel-Baker was exceptionally embarrassed and he hastened to withdraw his accusation. He then demanded energetic measures to improve relations with the Soviet Union. What an about-face! Just recall what he was doing and saying during the Finnish war!
Churchill requested the floor after Noel-Baker. His speech was very effective. The PM took the bull by the horns: ‘It has been already said here that the decision to close the Burma–Yunnan road was unpleasant for the government… Unpleasant!… We simply hate this decision! But the government


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had no choice. The present correlation of forces is such that we could not have acted differently.’
Churchill went on to argue that the situation could change in three months, that he pinned great hopes on the United States, and that the time would soon come when England would be able to give China the support it deserves. In the meantime, it is left to the Soviet Union to help China.
In the second part of his speech, Churchill touched on matters of defence and firmly declared that England was readying itself for a possible invasion and had taken big steps in that direction. But the question remained: would Hitler really decide to attempt an invasion? Churchill couldn’t be sure.
After the PM’s speech, the Chamber emptied.
Pritt took the floor and challenged the government with three questions: (a) Why did the British government not consult with the USSR on the matter of the Burma–Yunnan road? (b) Why has the British government not yet started trade negotiations with the USSR? and (c) Why did the British government recognize the C[zechoslovak] G[overnment], which includes people of reactionary views as well as individuals of dubious reputation?
Next up was Gallacher (he ‘caught’ the Speaker’s eye, as no one else wished to take the floor), who delivered a fiery speech criticizing the British government’s position and describing the favourable circumstances of the Soviet masses.
Since Butler, present on the front bench, showed no desire to answer Pritt’s and Gallacher’s questions, the speaker hurried to close the session.
5 August
A scandal in a noble family!
When France collapsed, General Sikorski was the first Polish notable to flee to England. He met Churchill and declared to him (this was later confirmed in writing) that the ‘P[olish] G[overnment]’ did not wish to put a spoke in the wheels of rapprochement between England and the Soviet Union. British government circles understood this to represent a renunciation by the ‘P[olish] G[overnment]’ of Poland’s pre-war eastern borders.
Then there appeared in London ‘president’ Raczkiewicz,
Władysław Raczkiewicz, president of the Polish Republic in exile in London, 1939–47.
foreign minister Zaleski, other ministers, and a large number of Polish landlords who had fled Poland having lost their lands (including in eastern Poland). France’s crushing defeat had shaken their belief in the ‘might of the Allies’ and they had begun to turn towards… Mussolini, as a ‘bridge’ to Hitler. Hearing of Sikorski’s statement to Churchill, the whole gang flew into a rage. They urged Raczkiewicz to dismiss Sikorski. Raczkiewicz agreed and offered the premiership to Zaleski, who now


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became leader of the ‘landlords’. Then the generals, headed by Sosnkowski,
Kazimierz Sosnkowski, general, commander-in-chief of the Polish armed forces from 1943.
protested, saying that if Sikorski left, they would leave too. Raczkiewicz got cold feet and Sikorski kept his position. However, opposition against him is growing. What’s more, Zaleski decided to take revenge. On 29 July, at a Polish function dedicated to the signing of an Anglo-Polish agreement regarding the Polish armed forces, he delivered a long speech in which he declared that, ‘Poland is at war with Russia, but she is not at war with Italy, although certain circumstances have forced her to break diplomatic relations with this country!’
It is reported that all is not well in the Polish army evacuated from France. There are two Polish divisions (about 20,000 troops), but there is great agitation among the soldiers, who resent the fascist tendencies of the officers, their anti-Semitism and their beatings.
6 August
Randolph Churchill turned up unexpectedly in his splendid hussar uniform. It turns out that he has been transferred from his tank battalion to the newly formed ‘mobile units’ [Special Operations Executive], whose task is to ‘wage partisan warfare’ in the event of a German invasion. Randolph said many interesting things.
He says that the military are very put out: they are ready for an invasion, they are desperately eager to give the Germans a ‘warm welcome’, but the Germans just won’t arrive. British air reconnaissance surveys the shores of France, Belgium and Holland every day: not the slightest sign of an imminent invasion. Can Hitler really have abandoned his idea?
Randolph’s father sent out a warning over the radio the other day: ‘Do not disarm.’ The danger of invasion is not over, he said, addressing the public at large. We must remain vigilant. Over the past few days, the newspapers have been following the PM’s lead, writing about German preparations for an invasion, the concentration of ships in the Baltic and Norway, etc. But all that, according to Randolph, is mere agitation. Its aim is to counter the August holiday mood and complacency in general. In actual fact, W. Churchill has no new signs or evidence of an invasion being prepared. The British government can only speculate: What’s up? Why is Hitler moving so slowly? Because he has yet to complete his preparations? Or because he is short of ships? (Randolph mentioned in this connection that British pilots have photographed the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau in dry dock, with damage requiring 3–4 months’ repairs). Or because Hitler and Mussolini have decided that their


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next blow will be aimed at Africa, Egypt, etc.? Or because they want to strike simultaneously in different directions – against England, Egypt and Gibraltar?
Nobody really has a clue, but the British government wants to be ready for every eventuality. It is, for example, currently massing forces in the Near East. Australians, incidentally, are being transferred there from England. Why Australians in particular? There are two reasons. First, they are good fighters. Second, no one knows how to deal with them in England: they are just too ‘free-spirited’. They disregard discipline, disobey their officers, fail to salute and constantly quarrel with the British soldiers. The war department is only too glad to get them off its hands and is sending them to Egypt and Palestine.
I asked what the British government presumes the major strategy of the war to be?
Randolph replied that the immediate objective of the British government is to eliminate the threat of invasion. After which come the following aims: to attain air superiority by the end of this year or the beginning of the following; to form a 3-million-strong land force by spring; and to move onto the offensive in 1941. The blockade, of course, will be stringently enforced. If the war continues for another two years, the British government will have an air fleet of 150–200 thousand machines. Such is the scale according to which the British government conceives the expansion of its military operations. Great hopes are pinned on the United States: it will probably enter the war after the presidential elections. Whatever the circumstances, the USA will provide maximum aid to England in weapons, aeroplanes, etc. No, there is no reason for the British government to be despondent! Things are shaping up in its favour.
We turned to internal affairs. I expressed my doubts about the ability of the British elite to pursue the war ‘to the end’: for this would raise, in the sharpest terms, the question of the preservation of their present privileges! Are they ready to make such a sacrifice? Hardly. Randolph, however, grinned, and replied with a contemptuous wave of his arm: ‘Are they ready? Father will make them do it!…’
And he added with undisguised hostility and irritation: ‘My father will find it a particular pleasure to shatter the privileges of our upper crust. Oh yes! He’ll gladly disperse that vile, decaying gang!’
What does this mean? Randolph’s opinions always reflect those of his father. In which direction is the prime minister prepared to ‘liquidate’ the privileges of the English upper crust: to the right (towards fascism) or to the left (towards socialism)?
7 August


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I saw Attlee in parliament and had a serious talk with him on the Baltic question. Attlee behaved very strangely. At first he cast doubt on the freedom of the peoples of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in expressing their will to join the Soviet Union. So I asked him directly: ‘Does this mean you don’t wish to recognize the changes that have occurred in the Baltic States on considerations of principle?’
Attlee took fright and hastened to answer: ‘No, no! You’ve misunderstood me.’
He then changed tack, arguing that it was not a matter of principle, but of compensation: British citizens had investments in the Baltic States which they will now lose. If the matter of compensation is settled, there will be no complications. I objected, arguing that compensations and recognition of the changes are two quite different things and should not be confused. Moreover, the losses of British citizens are yet to be proved. Here Attlee flew into a rage and set about defending British investments like a lion. He did so far more robustly than Butler or Leith-Ross would have done.
I finally lost my patience and noted rather sharply: ‘Since when have you started taking the interests of the City so close to heart?’
Attlee was somewhat embarrassed and replied: ‘I’d like to see what you would do in such a situation.’
‘Such a situation simply could not befall us,’ I parried, before concluding: ‘How the British government acts is a matter for you to decide. I, at any rate, have warned you in advance and my conscience is clear. If complications arise, you’ll have only yourselves to blame.’
10 August
I had Amery (secretary of state for India), Butler, Boothby and General Spears to lunch today.
Amery describes in his diary how the ‘sight of a sumptuous lunch in a pleasant conservatory overlooking Kensington Gardens prompted Bob [Boothby] to exclaim: “What a relief in these rationing days to share the simple life of the Proletariat”’; Barnes and Nicholson (eds), The Empire at Bay, p. 638.
Amery expressed familiar concerns about Indian affairs, but he made it clear that the Indian viceroy’s
Victor Alexander John Hope (2nd marquess of Linlithgow), governor-general and viceroy of India, 1936–43.
declaration on 7 August was not the last word. The British government will go further if need be. I even gained the impression that Amery himself would be ready to go further immediately, but the Cabinet won’t let him. Butler says Cripps was satisfied with his talk with C[omrade] Molotov on 7 August, and that Cripps is closer to us on the Baltic issue than he is to the British government. Butler also says that the British government is currently discussing that issue and he hopes it will be resolved before long… In what spirit? Butler kept silent about that.


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Spears was the most interesting of the company. He was the liaison officer between the B[ritish] E[xpeditionary] F[orce] and the French army throughout the winter and observed many curious things. Boothby asked Spears how he would explain the catastrophe in France?
Spears’ answer was very characteristic. The reasons he gave were: the predominance of the ‘Maginot psychology’ in the French army in general and among the officers in particular; the obsolete nature of military thinking in France; the unsatisfactory performance of the General Staff, and in particular the poor disposition of the French army; the advanced age of the French generals; and the lack of talent in the military leadership. Weygand’s reputation, in the opinion of Spears, is greatly inflated. He is in fact a very mediocre general. These, said Spears, were the military causes of the catastrophe. But there were political ones, too. To illustrate the point, Spears referred to Weygand once more. Bolshevism was for him the No.1 enemy. Hitler was always the No. 2 enemy. At the last meeting of the French government before surrender, Weygand insisted on an armistice, arguing that it was the only way to save the army, which was needed to prevent a revolution. The greater part of the French government felt the same.
Spears also related an amusing incident in which he had been involved. It happened on the day when the Germans entered Rouen. The front had essentially already collapsed. The army was in full retreat. France was hurtling towards defeat. It so happened that on that day Spears had to visit Pétain on some business. The old marshal asked him what he thought of the current situation. Spears replied: ‘Only a new Jeanne d’Arc could save France.’
‘Ah, Jeanne d’Arc,’ Pétain echoed with animation. ‘Yes, yes, she was an extraordinary woman! I’ve been fascinated by her all my life.’
Pétain fished out from his drawer the manuscript of a long speech devoted to Joan of Arc, which he had given a few years ago on the occasion of some anniversary, and read it to Spears from beginning to end. Having finished the speech, Pétain launched into a long, general discussion of Joan of Arc. He took thick books down from the bookcase, read out long quotations, commented profusely on the reliability or unreliability of various sources, and offered his judgement. He entertained his guest in this manner for one and a half hours! Then Pétain remembered he had to hurry off somewhere and left, having even forgotten to ask Spears what he’d come to see him about.
And all France thought at that time that the ‘old marshal’ was stretching every sinew of his mind to lead the army, find a way out of the country’s catastrophic situation, and by some great heroic effort ‘save the fatherland’…
14 August


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Yesterday I attended parliament. The question of India was discussed – one of the most important questions of the war and of the future of the British Empire. What of it? No more than fifty members were present, most of them sat on the opposition benches. The Conservatives’ benches were half-empty although Amery (secretary of state for India) is a Tory – as blue as they come! The speeches were grey and boring. The ‘stars’ kept silent. A cloud of deathly tedium hung over the hall.
But the rare unanimity of persons and parties was striking. All praised with one voice the viceroy’s weasel speech of 7 August – Tories, Labour, Liberals and Independents. Vernon Bartlett spoke approvingly, while Eleanor Rathbone
Eleanor Florence Rathbone, critic of appeasement and Independent MP, 1929–46.
expressed her pleasure with her voice and gestures.
A curious incident happened at the meeting of the Labour Executive Committee on 13 August. The meeting was drawing to a close when it dawned on the members of the committee that the question of India would be discussed in parliament the following day. Who should speak? They deliberated for a while, then decided that the first to speak after Amery should be… Lord Winterton (who, as luck would have it, now sits on the opposition front bench next to Shinwell and Wedgwood). Who else? Who else from Labour? Lees-Smith
Hastings Bertrand Lees-Smith, chairman of the Parliamentary Labour Party, 1940–41.
(the chairman) indecisively surveyed those present. They kept silent until someone suggested: ‘Let Ammon
Charles Ammon, Labour MP, 1922–31 and 1935–44.
say a few words.’
Ammon is a third-rate backbencher, a kind of Mädchen für alles.
The decision was made: Ammon would speak.
Pethick-Lawrence then piped up: ‘But we need to know what Ammon is planning to say!… What if he decides to support Nehru?’
Jawaharlal Nehru, Indian nationalist leader and statesman.
‘Oh no, he won’t do that,’ came the universal response.
Ammon quite justified the Executive Committee’s trust: he did say ‘a few words’, and foul ones at that.
What a characteristic scene!
15 August
Saw Lloyd George yesterday, who passed on some interesting news: Chamberlain has bowel cancer and although, formally speaking, he remains in the Cabinet, he is to all intents and purposes done for. This should have various political repercussions. One is already known: Beaverbrook has been brought into the War Cabinet. Further changes are to be expected. Churchill once again invited Lloyd George to join the War Cabinet (through Beaverbrook), but the


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old man declined the invitation because he disagrees with the government on two matters: foreign policy and India.
Lloyd George maintains that the main issue in the sphere of foreign policy is the Soviet Union. But the Cabinet is gambling on the United States. That’s a mistake. Even if the United States does enter the war, its participation will not have a practical effect for another two to three years, for the USA has neither an army nor an air force. All this still needs to be created. Lloyd George remembers perfectly well how it was with the Americans in the last war. Meanwhile, the role of the Soviet Union already has huge significance today. Even leaving aside the question of the USSR’s participation in the war (Lloyd George is well aware of our general stance on this matter), the positions taken by our country have colossal importance in terms of how a satisfactory peace might be arrived at and concluded. Hence the importance of the issue of Anglo-Soviet relations. But what is the British government up to? It’s staging an indecent vaudeville show with the Baltic States. This is stupid and dangerous!
The question of India is very serious, too. It is one of the cardinal problems of the war and of the entire future of the British Empire. In Lloyd George’s opinion, the British government is treading water. It has plenty to say except the one, crucial word which is called for. A solution to the Indian problem is possible. ‘I know Gandhi well,’ Lloyd George said. ‘I’ve talked to him a lot. I say!… He is less a “saint” than a clever and skilful politician. The main thing is that he has an excellent sense of how far we can go in making concessions.’ Then, making a cunning face, Lloyd George winked and added meaningfully: ‘I’d manage to come to an agreement with him!’
Summing things up, Lloyd George let it be understood quite clearly that he would not enter the government unless he had serious hope for a change of policy in the two directions mentioned.
Then we turned to various other topics. Lloyd George commended C[omrade] Molotov’s last speech: ‘It is very clever from the point of view of Soviet interests, but unfortunately it promises little from the point of view of British interests. But I understand your irritation. Our Foreign Office has acted with great stupidity with regard to the Baltic States and the Burma–Yunnan road.’
The purport of Germany’s recent mass raids on England is not yet clear to Lloyd George. Maybe it is the prelude to an attempted invasion. Or maybe it is the prelude to a more severe blockade of the British Isles. Time will soon tell. At any rate, the morale of the population is still very good, and the scale of destruction suffered by the country is insignificant.
[Cripps, complained Cadogan to Halifax on 17 August, ‘argues that we must give everything – recognition [of the Baltic States], gold, ships and trust to the Russians


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loving us. This is simply silly. Agreed to tell him to sit tight. We will see what we can do here with Maisky. Exactly nil, I should say. However H. proposes to begin by asking Maisky and MADBme to dine – and threatens to ask me too! Extraordinary how we go on kidding ourselves. Russian policy will change exactly when and if they think it will suit them. And if they do think that, it won’t matter whether we’ve kicked Maisky in the stomach. Contrariwise, we could give Maisky the Garter and it wouldn’t make a penn’orth of difference.’
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 321.
]
17 August
The duke of Windsor has arrived with his Mrs Simpson in the Bahamas, where he has been appointed governor. Essentially, of course, this is exile. Why has the former king been treated so harshly?
Channon, who had been advocating the appointment for two years, saw it in a different light: ‘they will adore it, the petty pomp, the pretty Regency Government House, the beach and the bathing; and all the smart Americans will rush to Nassau to play backgammon with Wallis!’; Rhodes, Chips, p. 260.
I’ve heard from excellent sources that Queen Elizabeth is behind it all. She is ‘master’ of the house and has the king under her thumb. She is awfully jealous. She has set herself the task of bringing popularity and splendour to the royal family. She sends the king everywhere – to camps, factories, the troops, the front line – so that he should appear everywhere, so that people should see him and grow used to him. She never rests either: bazaars, hospitals, telephone operators, farmers, etc. – she visits them all, gives her blessing, graces with her presence, parades. She even pulled off the following, highly unusual stunt recently. The queen’s brother, who serves in M[idle] E[ast] C[command], arranged a private tea party, to which a dozen prominent American journalists were invited. The queen attended the party, too, and for an hour and a half she ‘chatted graciously’ to the correspondents, together and individually. But not, of course, for the papers. The queen is terribly afraid that the duke of Windsor might return home and ‘steal’ his brother’s popularity, which required so much effort to achieve. That is why the duke of Windsor was exiled to the Bahamas.
18 August
We visited Gollancz at his country home. There we found Guo Taiqi, Strachey, Bevan and his wife, and other guests. We had a long talk, argued heatedly, and exchanged opinions on what lies in store for England.
A great muddle and a great variety of views. There were no two people who would agree with each other.
My thoughts (although I did not voice them fully today) are as follows.
England has enough cards in hand to avoid defeat and successfully extricate itself from the war. But will England be able to play its cards well? That’s the crux.
There are four major problems facing England today:


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(1) military,
(2) foreign policy,
(3) India,
(4) domestic policy.
Since Churchill came to power, the first problem has been addressed, and, although it is too early to draw a definitive conclusion, seems to be on the path to being resolved. The production of aircraft and weapons has increased sharply, the organization of the army has been expedited, rapid strides have been made in fortifying the island, and the danger of a German invasion has receded. Of course, much remains to be done, but progress is smooth and there are grounds to believe that the problem will eventually be solved. The current British government has been playing this card rather well.
The second problem has not been solved, and it is still not clear how it will be solved. Halifax remains in charge of the FO, whose personnel is still thoroughly imbued with the old Chamberlain spirit. The British government has been playing this card badly, which has particular consequences for relations with the Soviet Union – the key question in the current situation.
The third problem is locked in a stalemate. The viceroy’s statement of 7 August and Amery’s speech in parliament on 14 August have failed to indicate a way out of the deadlock. Perhaps this will change with time, but up to now the British government has been playing this card badly, too.
The fourth problem has not yet been raised. Essentially, it concerns the very considerable weakening, if not complete elimination, of the domination of the bourgeoisie in England’s economic and political machinery and, accordingly, the enhanced influence of working people, above all the proletariat. The British government has been playing this card badly, too.
These are the problems facing England today (when still considered within a capitalist or near-capitalist framework).
Will the Churchill government be able to solve these problems, at least so as to emerge from the war without defeat? For it seems unrealistic to expect such an outcome if these problems are not resolved in a more or less satisfactory manner.
Will it be able to? I don’t know. Time will tell.
Of course, everything would change if the possibility of a peace treaty were to emerge within the next few months. But can this happen?
At the moment I can’t see such a possibility emerging. The crux of the matter is that the imperialist interests of England and Germany conflict to such an extent that they cannot be reconciled at this stage. Over six years following Hitler’s rise to power, desperate attempts were made to find a path of compromise. For three years (1937–39), England was led by a man who was prepared to do whatever was required to come to terms with Germany.


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In principle, Hitler, too, was always an advocate of an agreement with England against the Soviet Union and France. The ‘subjective’ factor, on both sides, was expressly in favour of an agreement. Yet an agreement was not reached! Worse still, the matter culminated in war. Why? Because the ‘objective’ factor – the conflicting imperialist interests of the two states – turned out to be far stronger than the ‘subjective’ factor: the desire of Chamberlain and Hitler (and the elements they represented) to reach an agreement.
This also applies to the current prospects of peace being concluded in the near future. On what basis could this happen? I still can’t see any.
Supposing Hitler were to say: let’s divide up the world – I’ll have Europe, you’ll have the British Empire, and some ‘colonial trifles’ will go to Germany and Italy. Clearly this is the best that England might expect from Hitler at present. Would an agreement be possible on such a basis?
The young Rothenstein couple paid us a visit a day or two ago. I put that question to him and his reply was: ‘No, it would not be possible. And here’s why. England’s sole advantage over Germany today is its command of the seas. This is what makes it so difficult for Germany to conquer England. Were we to conclude peace now on the basis of Hitler’s present conquests, it would mean that, with all the resources and shipyards of Europe at his disposal, he would be able to build a fleet to equal ours in some 5–6 years, and England would become a toy in his hands.’
These words betray the underlying cause of the ‘belligerence’ currently sweeping both the ruling circles and the population at large, including the workers, although among the latter this cause often appears under the pseudonym, ‘the struggle against Nazism’.
That is why I don’t see any prospects for an early peace – under the essential condition, of course, that the Soviet Union continues to pursue policies no less wise than it has hitherto. And I’m fully confident it will.
20 August
From a purely oratorical point of view, Churchill was not at his best today, speaking in parliament on matters related to the war and foreign policy. His speech, which lasted for some 50 minutes, was somewhat uneven. There were brilliant and forceful passages that arrested the attention of the House, but there were also moments when the temperature fell and some MPs even started chatting. However, the content of the prime minister’s speech was quite coherent. Churchill summed up his government’s first three months in office and found them quite satisfactory. Even though the danger of invasion has not yet passed, it recedes with each passing day, while British defence resources are growing at massive speed (especially air defence). Churchill places great


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hope on ‘cooperation’ with the United States. The blockade of Europe will be continued relentlessly: provisions for the countries occupied by Germany will not be allowed through from America (Hoover and Co.’s project). The war will be lengthy: preparations must already be made now for an offensive in 1941 and 1942. On the whole, Churchill’s entire speech expressed growing confidence in England’s fighting efficiency and a belief that the worst had already passed.
The same note of confidence characterized the debates that followed. These were not, on the whole, notable for their brilliance. At our meetings we would say of such a situation: ‘all is clear’. That’s why the big beasts didn’t speak, while the backbenchers dwelt on details. Just one curious fact: Churchill elicited the loudest cheers when he spoke of the British air force and of the refusal to let American provisions through to Europe.
After Churchill’s speech I went into the lobbies. I saw many people (Gwilym and Megan Lloyd George, Burgin, Elliot, Leonard,
William Leonard, Labour MP for Glasgow, 1931–50.
Neil Maclean and others). They all share the same mood of high, new-found confidence, and ecstatic admiration of the British air force. People are literally crazy about their pilots. And they all say as one that the German air raids have not done any great damage anywhere. This is partly explained by the fact that the dummy system (airfields, factories, etc.) has been widely implemented.
Megan expressed interest in the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. There was nothing I could say to reassure her. She was sorry, scolded Halifax, and gave the following explanation for the deadlock in relations between our countries: ‘I’ve known Churchill for many years, ever since I was a small girl. He came over for lunch or dinner to our house on countless occasions, discussing various matters with my father… What always appealed to him most was war. He studied the wars of the past and contemplated the wars of the future. He always imagined himself a military leader, destroying armies, sweeping through Europe, overthrowing his enemies or putting them to flight. Military terms were always on his lips, and his head was forever full of military plans and projects. I’m sure that today he is wholly absorbed and intoxicated by the war. He thinks only of that, is interested only in that. Everything else is secondary to Churchill, Foreign Office included. There he’s given Halifax the reins… Ah, that man! I think Halifax is now far more dangerous than Chamberlain.’
There is, I sense, much truth in Megan’s words.
Maisky’s suspicions of Halifax were hardly warranted. He turned down the Dutch exploratory feelers for a negotiated peace, writing in his diary that ‘The more I ponder it, the more convinced I feel that the Germans have got to be more knocked about before they will be in any mood to learn any lesson … to stop on the sort of terms that Hitler would be likely


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to contemplate now would definitely look to them as if war did pay not too badly’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.5, 19 Aug. 1940.
The other day I saw Little
John Carruthers Little, president of the Amalgamated Engineering Union, 1933–39; industrial commissioner, Ministry of Labour and National Service, 1940–45.
(ex-president of the Engineering Union, he now holds a prominent post in the Ministry of Labour), who told me among other things: ‘Churchill says that peace will be agreed in Berlin. He will not settle for


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less than that. Churchill believes that this time Germany should learn a lesson that will put it off fighting once and for all. This can be done in one way only: by bringing the war onto German territory. So far Germany has waged war mainly on foreign territory (1870 and 1914–18). Let it try fighting at home now. That is why, in Churchill’s view, England should move onto the offensive in due course and crush Germany with the weight of metal. British war production must be raised to an unprecedented height.’
This also smacks of truth.
There may come a moment in the course of the war when we find ourselves in sharp conflict with Churchill, as happened in 1920. Time will tell.
22 August
Lunch with Sir Walter Monckton. An idiosyncratic, thoroughly English type. Officially a Tory, but in actual fact an extreme radical to whom even revolutionary ideas are not alien. Legal adviser to the duke of Windsor and a close friend of Cripps. Currently occupies the post of chief censor and thinks about revolution in Europe.
Monckton expressed some very interesting thoughts. In his view, the general military situation in England is now relatively favourable, and Churchill will probably be able to launch a military offensive against Germany as early as next year. But that is not enough. The most England can count on in the purely military sphere is to avoid defeat and agree an inconclusive peace, which in essence would amount merely to a more or less durable armistice. The roots and causes of military conflicts in Europe will remain untouched. An offensive is not enough if England wants to really win the war and prevent the emergence of a new armed conflict in the nearest future. What is needed in addition (and perhaps in greater measure) is a political offensive, i.e. changes in the nature of British foreign and domestic politics which could unleash a revolution in Europe, including Germany. Not bad! I only fear that Monckton does not quite perceive what the ‘political offensive’ he advocates would really entail. And if he were able to perceive this clearly, would he remain faithful to his present aspirations? Who can tell?…
The conversation then turned to Churchill’s role in this war. As leader of the military offensive, Monckton said, Churchill is good. But can he become leader of a political offensive as well? Monckton can’t yet say, but he doesn’t rule out the possibility that Churchill’s romantic affection for Empire plus his love of power might make him such a leader. How far would Churchill go in this direction? This is also unclear to Monckton as yet. Churchill would probably be inclined to curtail sharply the privileges of the capitalist upper


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crust, but would he do so sufficiently to win the war? Of course, everything in England will be done the English way. The introduction of a Soviet system may not be necessary here in order to achieve ‘victory’. The introduction of a particular, intermediary form of socialism may be enough. Perhaps Churchill will prove capable of ‘accepting’ or ‘creating’ such a form: he is, after all, neither a banker nor a businessman – he is not a man of the City. Churchill is a politician and a writer, who makes his living with his pen. He is not as steeped in the capitalist system as, for example, Chamberlain. He does not depend on shares, interest, landed property, etc. He will earn his ‘crust’ with literary labour whatever the circumstances.
Maisky’s erroneous observation indeed proves how successful Churchill was in covering his financial tracks. In No More Champagne: Churchill and his money (London, 2015), David Lough exposes the extent to which Churchill relied on shares, interest and insider trading, and describes in great detail the efforts he made to avoid paying income tax on such earnings in order to make his living. He also discloses how Churchill went out of his way to ensure that his haggling with the Inland Revenue would be kept private during his wartime premiership. His talk with Maisky only confirms this. I am most grateful to Mr Christopher Matheson for pointing out the discrepancy to me.
Why, then, should he not become the leader of a political offensive? If this happens, England’s transition to a new system will proceed more or less peacefully and calmly. But if Churchill were to oppose the transition to a new system, then major domestic complications would be inevitable.
I listened to Monckton and thought to myself: which way will Churchill go? To the left or to the right? Towards socialism or towards fascism? What role is he destined to play in the impending events? In what shades will he be recorded on the pages of history? It is at present difficult to give an answer to these questions. One thing is certain: the following one, two or three years will be an exceptionally interesting period in the history of England and in the life of the prime minister personally.
30 August
A visit from Simopoulos. The Italian press campaign against Greece causes him great anxiety. Yet he doubts that Italy will attack Greece. For what can Italy gain from it? The first consequence of such a step would be for England to occupy Crete (and its magnificent Bay of Suda) and other Greek islands. British warships are already on patrol near Crete. It would mean that British sea and air bases operating against Italy would be transferred from Alexandria to Crete or even Cephalonia. Why would Italy want this?… Simopoulos, therefore, is inclined to think that Mussolini is bluffing and wants to scare Greece in order to get something from it. What exactly? That is not yet clear.
Momchilov came by. He spoke at length about the declining influence of the Italians in Bulgaria, and said that Sofia has decided against raising the matter of Dobrudja now, as it counts on receiving it without a fight and for good at the end of the war. Besides, Bulgaria realizes that Turkey would interfere if this issue were raised in a serious manner. That would lead to an armed conflict, and Bulgaria desires war least of all.
I saw Aras and inquired about Turkey’s position with regard to the Italian campaign against Greece. Aras declared that Turkey is obliged to bring its


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armed forces to Greece’s aid in only two circumstances: (1) if Bulgaria attacks Greece (the Balkan Entente) and (2) if a third power threatens the ‘maritime boundary’ between Greece and Turkey (the mutual assistance pact between Greece and Turkey). The maritime boundary is understood to be the Aegean Sea and its coastline.
I asked what Turkey would do should Italy attempt to seize Saloniki.
Aras started to wriggle. I gleaned from his words that if the Italians had already entered Saloniki, Turkey would have to interfere.
‘All right,’ I answered, pressing him further, ‘and if the Italians were not yet in Saloniki, but had already begun their march on Saloniki from Albania – what would Turkey do then?’
Aras spread his arms and replied that in that case the ‘interpretation’ of the agreement between Greece and Turkey would be crucial. He went on to admit that this ‘interpretation’ would wholly depend on the Soviet position.
31 August
We visited the Webbs. Without mentioning Monckton’s name, I put to Beatrice Webb the same question which the former had discussed with me (see the entry for 22 August): Are there any grounds to believe that in the course of the war England may be able to switch to a ‘political offensive’, that is, become a socialist state?
Beatrice considers this impossible. She has various arguments. First, war is an inappropriate time for major social changes. Second, who might carry out such a reconstruction of society? Labour? But the Labour leaders serve capitalism. The very psychology of Transport House precludes it from taking decisive action in any sphere, especially the economic. It lacks the necessary courage, firmness and boldness. The working masses? But they, too, have been excessively corrupted by parliamentarism and trade unionism. They are not revolutionaries, they are gradualists, especially the working aristocracy. A combination of left Conservatives, Liberals of the Lloyd George type, and Labour men like Cripps and Pritt? Beatrice finds it difficult to imagine such a coalition. Even if such a coalition were created, it would be unstable and would hardly be able to carry out serious restructuring within the existing system.
No, talk of a socialist England emerging in the course of the war can be left to one side! So too, then, can talk of ‘victory’. Beatrice does not even believe in victory. She thinks that the Germans cannot invade England, while the British for their part cannot drive the Germans out of France, Holland, Belgium and other countries, to say nothing of capturing Berlin. That is why Beatrice foresees a long war of attrition and prolonged mutual destruction from the air. Her sole


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hope is that the Soviet Union and the United States may perhaps intervene at a certain point in the war and force the belligerents to conclude a ‘reasonable peace’. But will this hope come true?
When we went out for a walk, Beatrice told me: ‘I’m very glad that in our old age we, my husband and I, came to understand “Soviet communism” and accept it. Had this not happened, we would now be the darkest of pessimists in everything which concerns the future of humankind.’
A valuable confession! And from such a source!
1 September
The Germans have been carrying out mass air raids on England for three weeks now. Three phases may be discerned in the course of this ‘invasion’ from the air.
(1) 8–18 August. Mass, large-scale daytime raids. Hundreds of planes take part, up to 1,000 daily. That number was recorded on 15 August. The attack is not concentrated on one or several major points, but is spread in short bursts over many localities and cities.
(2) 19–25 August. A lull. Minor daytime raids. Few planes in each raid. Scattered attacks. The Germans seem to be searching for and preparing something new.
(3) 26 August to the present day. Raids by day and by night. The daytime raids bring fewer planes than in the first phase, but they are more concentrated and focused. The Germans mainly target the London–Dover–Portland triangle. Their main objectives are ports, airfields, industrial facilities and railways – all in this area. They are obviously paving the way for an invasion. The attacks are frequent, several times a day. At night very few machines fly over England, especially over London. But they go round and round in circles for several hours on end and occasionally drop bombs. This is evidently a form of ‘psychological attack’ against the broad masses of the population. So far the night raids have not made a major impression on the English.
Of course, this is not the end. We’ll see what happens next.
[The ‘Battle of Britain’ was the prelude to Operation Sealion, the plan for the invasion of Britain earmarked for mid-September. It was adopted in Berchtesgaden on 31 July by the naval and army chiefs, who, however, had serious reservations over what seemed to be insurmountable obstacles.
A brilliant analysis is in W. Murray, Strategy for Defeat: The Luftwaffe 1935–1945 (Princeton, 2002). See also R. Overy, The Battle of Britain: The myth and the reality (London, 2002).
Greatly impressed by the public spirit and resilience displayed by the residents of London, Maisky had become convinced ‘that Great Britain will not be invaded by the German army, and that by next year she will be superior in the air … the air raids in Great Britain will dwindle, and air raids in Germany and her occupied territories will increase in destruction and effect’. He was further convinced that Britain would preserve its stronghold in the Mediterranean, but he could not see how she could possibly dislodge the Germans from the territories they had gained in Europe.


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The two alternatives he saw then were a negotiated peace or for Great Britain to become ‘a socialised community, not necessarily on the Soviet model, but practically emancipated from capitalism and landlord control. There could be a real and lasting Soviet and British pact to free Europe from Hitler’s dominance.’
Webb, diary, 31 Aug. 1940, pp. 6954, 6958–9.
These views certainly were not in conformity with Stalin’s outlook – to which Maisky was not privy – of extending the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact to cover the Balkans and bring the war to an end, with the Soviet Union and Germany sharing dominance in Europe.
This argument is developed at length in Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion.
]
6 September
Dalton came for lunch. In ‘the strictest confidence’ he elucidated for me the situation surrounding the Baltic question. This is how things stand.
Since July, the entire British foreign policy has been directed toward supporting Roosevelt’s re-election and involving the United States in the war. Every move taken by the British government in the sphere of foreign policy is made with the following thought in mind: what will be the reverberations in the United States? The same is true of the Baltic question: the British government’s position depends wholly on that of the A[merican] G[overnment]. Meanwhile, the A[merican] G[overnment] (the English recently did some soundings in Washington) does not intend to recognize the changes which have occurred in the Baltic region and give us the Baltic gold. On the contrary, the US government associates the ‘freezing’ of the Baltic gold with the freezing of the French, Dutch and Norwegian gold. This makes it difficult for the British government to agree to the ‘thawing’ of the Baltic gold and to the closure of the Baltic missions in London. Moreover, some British citizens have grievances against the USSR in connection with the events in the Baltic. Hence the vacillating tactics of the FO.
I strongly attacked the British government’s conduct, but Dalton spread his arms and said: ‘I understand and even sympathize, but you should understand our situation too. America is our priority today.’
So much so that Churchill has basically withdrawn all American affairs from the jurisdiction of the FO and administers them directly.
Dalton expanded the thought that the Soviet Union should seek more friendly contact with the United States. This would facilitate the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations. Besides, it would lay the foundation for a ‘four-power combination’: England, the United States, the Soviet Union and China. This would stabilize the situation in the Far East, strengthen China, and prepare the way for a ‘reasonable’ end to the war. I listened to Dalton, but remained noncommittal.
Dalton is awfully pleased with the Anglo-American agreement of 3 September (‘bases, destroyers’). There is more to it than destroyers, although


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they are fairly important by themselves. Dalton says that a gentleman’s agreement exists between London and Washington concerning the USA’s entry into the war after the presidential election. This does not mean, however, that the USA has pledged to send a large army to Europe soon. Actually, England would not want this now anyway. If the United States began forming such an army right away, they would need to arm it before arming anyone else, which would mean a cut in military supplies to England. The USA’s entry in the war is understood in London to mean the receipt of credits in America and of the maximum number of weapons. Besides, it would have a tremendous political-psychological impact: Germany would finally understand then that victory is impossible. The end of the war would thereby be hastened.
Dalton is leaving town for two weeks – ‘on holiday’.
‘But I’ll come back instantly if there’s an invasion!’ he exclaimed, with his customary sweep of the arm.
7 September
A month has passed since the beginning of major air attacks on England. Some conclusions can be drawn.
What was the aim of these attacks, insofar as one may judge by the activities of the German air force and by the official and unofficial statements of the Germans themselves?
Undoubtedly, Hitler’s ‘general idea’ was to pave the way for the invasion of England by means of (1) destroying British air defence (hence the strikes on airfields, aircraft factories, planes, etc., particularly in the London–Dover–Portland triangle); (2) disrupting and dislocating the machinery of the British state and economy; and (3) undermining the population’s and government’s morale.
Have these goals been attained?
As of today – no.
In fact, the output of aircraft factories has constantly exceeded the losses of the British air force. Almost all the airfields are in working condition, including those in the south-eastern triangle. The losses suffered by the industries, and in particular aviation, are small. Transport is functioning quite well on the whole. Import-exports are maintained on an entirely satisfactory level, and as a result the shops are full of mass-market goods. One can sense no shortage of food in the country (only meat, butter and sugar are rationed, but it is easy to receive in excess of the norm).
The state apparatus is also functioning normally. Of course, there are a fair number of defects, but these are in no way connected with the air raids. No panic may be observed in political quarters. The government stands firm, and


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it seems to me that Churchill himself even enjoys the war. The morale among the wider population remains good, despite the night raids and broken sleep. We shall see what lies ahead.
What is the reason for the manifest German failure?
The strength of British resistance. The German planes have to break through a triple defence wall: anti-aircraft fire, barrage balloons and very effective interceptor fighters (Spitfires and Hurricanes). As a result, the German planes have to fly at high altitude (4–6 thousand metres) and can’t remain in the sky for long. They are forced to drop the bombs in haste. Attack dives succeed rarely and only by chance. Consequently the Germans fail to score many hits. Daytime air raids have been particularly unsuccessful, even though the number of fighters covering German bombers was doubled last week. So the Germans are reverting more and more to night raids, which, it seems, will now become a regular occurrence in our life.
8 September
It seems that the Germans themselves have realized the futility of their former tactics, because just yesterday they switched to new techniques of air warfare.
The Germans undertook a massive and intensive air raid of London yesterday afternoon. It was the first raid conducted on such a scale and with such intensity since the beginning of the war. The British were evidently shocked by the surprise attack and responded rather weakly. As a result, the Germans succeeded in setting the dockyards on fire and demolishing many buildings and workers’ houses in the East End. The fire is still raging today. I drove around the East End and stood on the hill in Greenwich Park from where I could clearly see columns of fire and clouds of smoke rising from various locations in the port. They say as many as 400 have been killed and 1,500 wounded.
Raids continued throughout the night of the 7th to the 8th. German planes went on pounding the city, taking their bearings from the tongues of fire. The workers’ districts – the East End and Kilburn – suffered most of all. Many proletarian shacks have been destroyed. Industrial facilities, power stations, gas plants and so on have escaped serious damage. The Finnish embassy, though, has been wrecked. I don’t know whether or not the Germans are targeting military objects; if they are, they are doing a bad job of it. It’s hardly surprising: yesterday and today the German planes have been flying at an altitude of about 7 kilometres.
British resistance last night was very feeble. The sky was ablaze with searchlights, but they rarely picked out the enemy planes. The anti-aircraft guns were mostly silent. Strange. The people are greatly alarmed at the absence


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of any proper retaliation. The government will face serious difficulties if this continues.
9 September
Subbotić visited me a couple of days ago. He arrived in quite a state: he had just received news from Belgrade claiming that the Soviet Union and Germany had reached or were about to reach an agreement about the ‘division of spheres of influence’ in the Balkans and the Near East. The Balkans would allegedly fall into Germany’s ‘sphere of influence’ and Iran into the Soviet sphere. The question of Turkey remained undecided. If all this was true, was it not possible to arrange for Yugoslavia to be included in the Soviet ‘sphere of influence’?
I set about ridiculing Subbotić, saying that one should not believe any old rumour, particularly now. The Soviet Union is not trying to carve out ‘spheres of influence’. The Soviet Union pursues a policy of peace, using the means dictated by the given situation, and it takes a negative view of any widening of the current conflict. The Soviet Union has interests in the Balkans, and certainly does not want to see this part of the world ablaze with the flames of war.
Subbotić left somewhat reassured, but not fully convinced.
Today I visited him and managed to dispel his suspicions completely. I assured Subbotić on behalf of the S[oviet] G[overnment] that no agreement exists between the Soviet Union and Germany about the division of ‘spheres of influence’ in South-East Europe and the Near East, and that the matter has not even been raised in talks between the USSR and Germany.


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Subbotić brightened up, shook my hand firmly and said he would wire this exceptionally important news to Belgrade right away. On parting, he said: ‘We shall feel ourselves to be, as it were, under the invisible protectorate of the Soviet Union.’
10 September
Today, we made our first acquaintance with the bombs. It was about one in the morning. German planes were constantly buzzing about over our heads. Agniya and I were in the shelter and were about to go to bed. Suddenly the shelter shook from a heavy blow, the lights went out, and there was a terrible crash very close by, in the very building, it seemed, of the embassy itself…
My first thought was that a bomb had fallen on our house.
I grabbed the telephone and asked Krainsky, who was on guard at the entrance, what had happened. Krainsky, his voice shaking, replied that bombs had fallen somewhere nearby. Our building had not been damaged, apart from the knocked-out window panes. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but it seemed that the house across the street had been shattered to its foundations and had collapsed.


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Agniya and I came up from the shelter to the embassy, walked around the building, and looked into our flat. Everything seemed all right except the panes and electric cable. Feeling a little calmer, we returned to the shelter and lay down to sleep.
At six in the morning, when the all clear was sounded, we got up and went out into the street. It was growing light. Pieces of asphalt from the road were scattered over our yard. The Lithuanians’ house opposite was in one piece, but it gazed vacantly at us from the cavities of its shattered windows. We learned that three small bombs had been dropped two houses down from us (opposite no. 11). There were shell craters there. People were rummaging about. Workers were hammering away at something. I came closer and picked up a piece of shrapnel. The asphalt was still smouldering.
The house diagonally opposite from us was also intact; only two window panes needed replacing.
We returned to the embassy and went to the flat to catch up on our sleep.
13 September
The seventh day of concentrated air attacks on London.
Once a German, always a German. A German acts according to a meticulous, fixed plan. That’s what’s happening now. Every day the same pattern is repeated. During the daytime – two, three or four short raids. Each raid generally lasts no more than an hour, sometimes only 15–20 minutes. Mass columns of bombers accompanied by fighters arrive from the French coast. British fighters and anti-aircraft guns usually intercept them at the shore, before they approach London. Only small groups of German planes manage to break through to the capital. British fighters meet them again over London. The contest begins and the raiders either plummet or turn back (anti-aircraft guns operate very rarely during the daytime for fear of harming the population with splinters). These day raids do little to disturb the city’s ordinary life, but cost the Germans dear: they lose 60–80 machines a day, and sometimes more, in daytime combat, as against 20–30 British fighters. Pilot losses are even more disproportionate: the English lose single-pilot fighter planes, in which 40% of the pilots manage to save themselves one way or another, while the Germans lose a significant number of bombers with crews of 4–5 men, plus a quantity of fighter planes, some of which carry two men. As a result, the Germans lose 200–300 men in battle daily (for them, every pilot is lost, even if he leaps out of the plane, as he lands in enemy territory), while the English lose 6–7 times fewer.
The night raids begin between 8 and 9 p.m. and usually last until five or six in the morning. German bombers come alone, without a fighter escort, and


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in smaller numbers than by day – rarely more than 50 or 60. But they cause a lot of damage. Incomparably more than the day raids. Why? Because at night German bombers are masters of the skies: British resistance is negligible during these hours. This is partly due to the fact that fighters are fairly ineffective at night, and partly to the heavy cloud cover over London which often prevents searchlights and anti-aircraft guns being employed. So the German bombers prowl above the city without haste, having a good look before taking aim and dropping their deadly gifts.
It was not until yesterday and the day before that the British tried using anti-aircraft guns on a massive scale. The cannonade was especially furious between the 11th and the 12th. A terrible din filled the air all night long. Thousands of guns shelled a sky divided into squares, confronting the German bombers with a barrage of fire. This seems to have produced a certain effect: German raids over the last two nights have faded a little, in quantity and efficacy. True, not many planes were brought down (only four on the night between the 11th and the 12th), but the powerful anti-aircraft fire forced the German machines to keep to a high altitude and not linger, with obvious consequences.
We pay little attention to air raids by day and try to work as usual. We generally succeed. In the evenings it’s a different picture. The whole embassy relocates to the basement and we stay there from the beginning of the first raid until bedtime. If bombs start exploding in very close proximity, we move to the ‘shelter’. Agniya and I have a special room down below, where we live like students. At night we sleep in the shelter, which is relatively safe, and hear neither the bombs nor the anti-aircraft batteries. We sleep like soldiers, of course, dressed or half-dressed. The duty officer wakes us at 5 or 6 a.m., once the ‘all clear’ has sounded, and all of us – sleepy and dishevelled – return home to sleep in our own beds for the remaining three or four hours. That’s how we live. It’s more or less tolerable (leaving aside the squabbles among the staff over places in the shelter). But can one live like this for long? We’ll see.
How London has changed over these past few days! Beyond recognition. Only a week ago everything looked relatively normal. London still resembled itself. And now?
Now the ‘front’ has come to London. Many streets are closed to traffic. At every step there are wrecked buildings, cracked pavements and broken windows. Most of the theatres and picture houses are closed, and those that are open give only matinee performances. The evening black-out brings pitch darkness. Deserted streets. Omnibuses, trams and taxis caught in a raid stand rooted to the spot. Only the underground functions, along with military machines rushing at full pelt through the city. The anti-aircraft guns roar, while bombs fall silently from the sky. Blazes flare up in one spot after another, and fire engines tear along the streets with a rumble and a rattle…


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Yes, little is left of the old, familiar London. Still less will remain with each passing day.
What aim are the Germans pursuing?
They are seeking, it would seem, to pave the way for an invasion by (a) disrupting the means of communication and (b) undermining the morale of the population and the government. Have they attained this aim?
No, not as yet. As far as transport is concerned, the Germans can only boast of very insignificant successes. True, the London dockyards have been partially burned and destroyed, but the London port continues to operate. True, Waterloo station has been closed and the Charing Cross and Victoria stations have been slightly damaged, but the railways still function normally, albeit with a few interruptions (delays, crammed carriages, etc.). All London’s bridges are intact. Omnibuses, trams and taxis are in good order, as are the underground and the aerodromes. A remarkable thing: the Germans bomb the most important London stations intensively every night, but without any serious consequences. Industry has sustained some damage (gas plants, power stations, the Woolwich arsenal, the Lipton tea-packing factory, etc.), but none of this is critical. Military production has hardly suffered. Damaged industries are being repaired very quickly.
And how is morale?
In the first 2–3 days of the current assault, the population, particularly in the East End, was confused, alarmed and nervous. What troubled them most was the total impunity experienced by the Germans and the feeble English response to the night raids. Tens of thousands of people were evacuated from the East End to other parts of the city between 7 and 9 September. However, this mood soon passed. Naturally enough, people are still full of concern and uncertainty about what the coming day will bring. Everybody curses and grumbles about the inconveniences caused by the air raids, but there are no signs of defeatist sentiments. On the contrary, feelings of anger and animosity towards Hitler and Germany are on the rise. And when an Englishman is driven to frenzy, he becomes a very dangerous animal.
The government’s mood? Oh, quite unshakeable: war ‘to the end’! Churchill’s speech of 11 September made this quite clear. It’s precisely the resolute and definite character of the British government’s stance which has done so much to help the masses overcome their initial fright. There is no panic in the country and Churchill intends to fight tooth and nail.
Yet the masses are displeased with the government for the poor quality and quantity of shelters, for the excessively soft treatment of the Germans during the British air attacks on Germany, for the inadequate defence of London, and so on. There is also growing popular discontent towards the rich, who are sitting it out in solid, comfortable shelters, while demands have been voiced to


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move East End workers to the empty houses of the wealthy in the West End. The News Chronicle has already taken up the latter idea, and I would not be at all surprised should the British government decide, for demagogic purposes, to do something (something trifling, of course) in this direction. Meanwhile, outbreaks of anti-Semitism have been reported in the East End.
No, the Germans are still very far from attaining their objective.
How will things develop? Hard to say. The sleep problem begins to acquire a critical importance. People are sleeping badly these days, which is reflected in their mood and their capacity for work. If this problem is not resolved in some way, the further intensification of the air war may have a deleterious effect on the morale of the population.
14 September
Eden lunched with me yesterday.
Maisky was desperately seeking to construct bridges to his former allies within the government. ‘As I expect you are having a terribly strenuous time with all this business of war,’ he wrote to Eden, ‘don’t you think it would be a good thing to take a little relaxation by having another “restful” lunch in our winter garden?’ RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 l.16, 4 Sep. 1940.
He looks fine: fresh, tanned, full of energy. His mood is confident and resolute. We spoke, of course, about the war.
Eden holds that the next ten days will be decisive: either Hitler will attempt an invasion over this period, or he will have to put it off for a good while, if not indefinitely. After September, there are storms at sea, rain and fog, and the difficulties which the German forces will face on landing will increase considerably. Besides, at least half of the German soldiers will be unfit for action when they reach English shores because of sea sickness (the average German is ‘a poor sailor’). But even if Hitler decides to try his luck and invade, England is ready.
‘Many people here,’ said Eden, ‘hope he does try. They are sure we will manage to beat off the Germans and the war might thus be brought to an early end.’
‘And what do you think?’ I asked the war secretary.
‘I am also convinced we will manage to repel the Germans,’ Eden replied, ‘but I would prefer to avoid an invasion: it will come at too great a cost to the civilian population.’
‘But still, do you think Hitler will decide to invade?’ I continued.
Eden thought for a moment and said: ‘I think he will. He likes to do what nobody has done before, what everyone considers impossible. An invasion of England?… This hasn’t happened for nearly a thousand years. It’s a terrible temptation for Hitler. That is why we are prepared.’
According to Eden, 30 well-trained armed divisions represent the core of the island’s defence (in all, there are 1,700,000 men under arms in England today, not counting the anti-aircraft defences). There are as many in the reserve, but they are evidently less well trained and armed. The rest are undergoing training.


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England has massed and continues to mass large forces in the Near East, where Eden expects major events to unfold in the near future. Egypt is exposed. The situation in Spain, from the English point of view, is a bit better than before.
Eden expressed interest in the condition and prospects of Anglo-Soviet relations. I acquainted him with the recent developments in the Baltic region – he had only a general knowledge of them – and I expressed the opinion that my eight-year experience as ambassador in London has rendered me sceptical about the possibility of a serious improvement in relations between our countries.
‘That is sad to hear,’ Eden responded. ‘Personally, I take the view I took five years ago, when I visited Moscow. I think there are no critical, insurmountable contradictions between England and the Soviet Union in any part of the globe, so relations between our countries can and must be good.’
‘Tell me frankly,’ I replied, ‘do many of your Conservative colleagues think the same?’
Eden admitted that a significant number of people in his party think differently.
‘That is the whole problem,’ I said. ‘That is why I have lost confidence in the possibility of a serious improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations.’
16 September
Nothing much has changed in the air war. The Germans’ tactics remain the same. Only there are more raids during the day. Air-raid warnings follow one after the other virtually without interruption. One could say that we have 24-hour raids with relatively short intervals. The Germans exploit the cloudy weather, so typical of England, quite deftly: they hide in the clouds and suddenly appear where nobody expects them. That was how they managed to drop bombs on Buckingham Palace.
In general, however, daytime raids are fairly ineffective: the Spitfires and Hurricanes operate very successfully. At night, the anti-aircraft fire scares the Germans away. It costs a lot, but produces results: the intensity of night raids has decreased, and there are fewer casualties and fires.
The Germans are still having no luck with the major military objects. They are missing even more than before. They try very hard, but all the bridges, railway stations and so on are intact. The air supremacy which the Germans require as a precondition for invasion is, if anything, further off now than it was ten days ago.
The morale of the population has improved. First, all are growing accustomed to the situation (as the proverb goes, ‘a man is not a pig – he can get used to anything’). Second, everybody is awfully pleased with the anti-aircraft fire.


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The Germans have spread the rumour that the king, the government and the diplomatic corps are being evacuated from London. Nonsense!
17 September
I lunched with Alexander. He is evidently very happy in his post as first lord of the Admiralty and willingly discusses naval topics.
Alexander considers the danger of invasion to be real: German preparations ‘on the other side of the water’ are just too extensive and diverse. The Germans will certainly try to attack from different directions, not only from France and Belgium, but also from Denmark, Norway and Holland. In particular, they are making major preparations on the Norwegian coast, most likely with the intention of striking at Scotland or at least the Orkney Islands. But the British navy is vigilantly following the enemy’s every movement in every direction (particularly along the Norway–Scotland route), and it would be difficult for German forces to break through to the British coast. Of course, one cannot rule out the possibility that an isolated unit of Germans troops may make a landing somewhere along the thousand-mile coast, but such a force would be immediately annihilated.
Speaking of the navy’s defence measures against invasion, Alexander emphasized with some satisfaction that new warships have begun to come into service, including battleships.
‘However,’ Alexander noted, ‘we may even have too many battleships for this war. The Germans have very few large ships, and our battleships have little to do. To rebuff a German invasion we need not battleships but small vessels of every type – destroyers, submarines, trawlers, etc. We have a good number of these, many hundreds! If the Germans do try to come over, they will pay a cruel price.’
Alexander is terribly pleased to have received 50 destroyers from the United States. This increases the British destroyer fleet by 30%. Alexander hopes that the Anglo-American agreement on the Pacific currently under discussion in Washington will soon become a reality. Then the Americans will have Singapore at their disposal.
Alexander quizzed me in detail about the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. I could say nothing to reassure him. Alexander sighed, shook his head, and promised to speak to the Foreign Office. He also kept sounding me out as to whether grounds for compromise might be found on the Baltic question. I told him very firmly that I consider the proposal put to me by Halifax on 10 September quite unacceptable.
***


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Butler told Prytz today that the last week has been a ‘happy’ one for England: great progress has been made in the Washington negotiations.
In response to Prytz’s probing, Butler said that England wants to ‘shift’ some of its burden onto the United States. This concerns the Far East. Once the agreement is concluded, the United States will become the leading power in the Pacific and play the decisive role on issues such as China, Holland, India, Indochina, etc. England will merely second the United States. But this means that England will be able to focus its efforts on Europe, Africa and Asia west of Singapore.
This information is most interesting. One tendency is becoming increasingly manifest: British imperialism is in retreat in America and East Asia, with US imperialism occupying the positions vacated by Britain. Light rear-guard action undertaken by British imperialism (such as the sending of Lord Willingdon’s
Freeman Freeman-Thomas (1st marquess of Willingdon), viceroy and governor-general of India, 1931–36.
trade mission to South America) does nothing to alter the essence of the matter.
4 October
The British government reshuffle in May was of a fundamental nature: the most dim and reactionary elements of the Conservative Party (the City, the Court, the Church), which had gone bankrupt in the areas of foreign and domestic policy, were replaced by a coalition of more flexible and far-sighted Tories like Churchill and Eden, plus Liberals and Labourites. True, Chamberlain managed to retain a position of some strength inside the ‘new government’, but it was a ‘new government’ all the same.
The government reshuffle carried out yesterday as a consequence of Chamberlain’s resignation ‘on grounds of ill health’ has nothing fundamental about it. It’s just a game of musical chairs – with some very strange results. Anderson, for example, who manifestly failed as home secretary, has now been promoted to the War Cabinet. In general, one can conclude that the political combination found in May still looks durable in October.
What leaps to the eye is the swelling of the War Cabinet: eight members instead of five. This institution is clearly running to seed. In May the ambition was to achieve what Lloyd George had done in the last war: to put in charge a small elite whose members would be free from departmental duties and who could concentrate all their attention on the general problems of the war and the urgent tasks of the moment. Nothing good ever came of it. The May War Cabinet consisted mostly either of nonentities like Attlee and Greenwood or of entirely compromised figures like Chamberlain and Halifax. Churchill


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was the only exception. The more significant and vibrant individuals were appointed heads of various departments outside the War Cabinet (Eden, Sinclair, Alexander, Bevin, Morrison, Dalton and others). As a result, along with the de jure War Cabinet, which usually met three or four times a week for one and a half to two hours, there emerged a far more important de facto War Cabinet: Churchill and six or seven prominent ministers directly associated with the conduct of the war. The present reshuffle has finished off the War Cabinet. Now, from being the leading authority responsible for the conduct of the war, it has become merely a board responsible for maintaining the party-political balance in the British parliamentary system. Radical changes may of course occur in this area in the future, but I am speaking only of what is evident today.
Within the War Cabinet we now find the following distribution of forces: a group of Chamberlain men (Halifax, Anderson and Kingsley Wood) are opposed by three Labourites (Bevin, Attlee and Greenwood), with Churchill and Beaverbrook finding themselves in the role of arbitrators. Outside the War Cabinet are Duncan
Andrew Rae Duncan, MP (National), City of London, 1940–50; president of Board of Trade, 1940 and 1941; minister of supply, 1940–41 and 1942–45.
(Ministry of Supply) and Lyttelton
Oliver Lyttelton (1st Viscount Chandos), president of Board of Trade, 1940–41; minister of state and member of War Cabinet, 1941–42; minister of production and member of War Cabinet, 1942–45.
(minister of trade) – experienced men of the City. Together with the Chamberlain ‘troika’ they will watch out for the interests of the most reactionary elements in the capitalist elite. Far from weakening the position of these elements in the government, the reshuffle has reinforced it. True, Labour’s position has, formally speaking, also been strengthened (three members in the War Cabinet), but one must take into account the hare-hearted character of Attlee and Greenwood, and also the fact that Bevin is made of the same stuff as fascist dictators.
For now the war policy of the new government will remain the same: five of its members (Churchill, Beaverbrook and the three Labourites) belong to the ‘party of war’ and three (Halifax, Anderson and Kingsley Wood) belong to the party of ‘peace at the first opportunity’. However, Beaverbrook is changeable and it is difficult to say whether he will maintain his current course for long. Bevin is a strong-willed man and much will also depend on his behaviour, but it is too early to predict his role in the new Cabinet.
The new government’s policy towards the USSR will also remain unchanged: the Chamberlain troika plus Bevin (who has long been of a very anti-communist and anti-Soviet mind) will be against us, and Attlee and Greenwood will sit on the fence. Churchill and Beaverbrook will be the ones to decide. I don’t expect great things from this combination.


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Cripps has been to see C[omrade] Molotov.
Cripps began by informing C[omrade] Molotov about the British government’s decision to open the Burma–Yunnan road. This initiative, according to Cripps, should weaken the thrust of Japanese aggression. Cripps also informed C[omrade] Molotov of the British government’s attitude towards the recently concluded tripartite pact (Germany–Italy–Japan).
C[omrade] Molotov indicated that the Soviet Union does not take a negative view of the opening of the Burma–Yunnan road, but nor does it overestimate the importance of this fact, since the traffic of goods on that road has never been great.
Then Cripps said roughly the following: the tripartite pact, in the opinion of the British government, is more dangerous to the USSR than to the USA (it caused an upsurge of anti-Japanese feeling in the United States). The British government, counting on US support, will take a firm stance in respect to Japan. The United States has yet to define its position clearly on the Chinese question (owing to the forthcoming presidential election), but it has already granted a 52 million dollar loan to China. The Soviet position will play a massive role in defining that of the USA. For instance, should the Soviet Union conclude a non-aggression pact with Japan, the United States would probably refrain from active measures in the Pacific, even in respect to the Dutch East Indies or British possessions, to say nothing of the USSR. The British government believes that consultation about aid to China between the United States, the Soviet Union and Great Britain would have a strong impact on Japan and other countries. War with China will inevitably weaken Japan and stunt its aggressiveness.
C[omrade] Molotov’s reply amounted to the following: the Soviet position in respect to China is known to all and does not require further explanation. It is doubtful whether consultation between the three countries mentioned by Cripps would be expedient or politically advantageous. The USSR and England and the USSR and the USA have so far failed to reach agreement even on minor questions (not through any fault of the USSR) – so what can be expected from joint consultation on problems of major significance?
As far as the tripartite pact is concerned, the S[oviet] G[overnment] takes the view that the pact does not introduce anything new, but merely formalizes the relations which effectively existed anyway.
Finally, as for the danger of the pact to the Soviet Union, the S[oviet] G[overnment] believes that Germany is currently up to its eyes in Europe and cannot render any real assistance to Japan. Neither can Japan really help Germany.
Cripps argued that consultation on the Chinese question between the USA, the USSR and England might pave the way to a general improvement of relations between these countries.


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C[omrade] M[olotov] listened to Cripps’s arguments and said that should he have anything more to tell Cripps on the topic of their conversation, he would not fail to do so.
6 October
The air offensive of the last two weeks can be divided into two phases.
The first (21–28 September) was marked by the same intensity as before. The attacks on London were even stepped up. There were several air raids every day. Groups of 150–200 planes crossed the Channel on each occasion, but no more than 10–15 succeeded in breaking through to London. The ratio of fighter escorts to bombers rose, becoming 4:1 in favour of the fighters. The raiders were repelled mostly by Spitfires and Hurricanes, and to a lesser degree by anti-aircraft fire. The material losses from the air raids were not large. It is reported that, having lost many bombers, the Germans started using faster and more manoeuvrable fighters (Messerschmitt 109 and 110), but this information needs to be checked.
Much more serious were the night raids in that period – mostly on London, though some provincial centres were attacked, too. These were mass raids, with up to 400 bombers engaged every night. Bombs were dropped chaotically, without military targets being sought. The bombers simply pounded residential homes, shops, cinema houses, and so on. London is a gigantic city (50 km in diameter): wherever you drop a bomb, you’ll hit something. The bomb weight kept increasing: 250, 500 and 1,000 kg. There appeared the so-called [word missing in diary], huge mines weighing up to 1.5 tons dropped by parachute. These mines don’t go deep into the ground, but their destructive power is immense: they bring down entire blocks. There were many delayed-action bombs, too. I remember paying a return visit to the Siamese minister
Phra Manuwajwimonnat, Siamese minister in London, 1940–42.
during this period. He received me in a room with knocked-out windows: a 250 kg bomb had fallen not far from the Siamese mission the previous day. Twice during our conversation we heard the crash of an explosion nearby. These were [word missing].
The second phase (29 September–5 October) was characterized by a decrease in the intensity of attacks both by day and by night. The effectiveness and accuracy of the bombing did not increase. True, the Germans had some successes. They sank a cruiser in Glasgow, hit the aircraft engine factory in Bristol, etc., but the material losses were not significant on the whole. For instance, the aircraft factory in Rochester, about whose alleged destruction the Germans made a great fuss, is intact and continues to operate. All the London


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bridges are intact, the BBC is intact, and so are nearly all the ‘military objects’. One bomb fell on St Pancras Station, where there was at the time a great quantity of explosive material. The English got very lucky on this occasion: the bomb fell at a sufficient distance from the dangerous freight for catastrophic consequences to be avoided.
I do not know how to explain the slackening intensity of the air raids over the last week. Maybe the bad weather and the good defence of the English are responsible. Or maybe it’s just a German trick: to lull the enemy before delivering a crushing blow. Some are of the opinion that the German offensive has begun to exhaust itself. We shall see.
Although the two-week air raids have not caused great destruction, they have exerted, and still exert, a considerable influence on London’s general condition. The life of the city is undoubtedly thrown into partial disarray by the night raids. The matter of sleep is central to the emerging difficulties. The people do not get enough sleep and their work capacity naturally decreases as a result. The transportation services also suffer from the air raids: the ‘tube’ from being transformed into shelters, and omnibuses, automobiles, etc. from constant route alterations owing to the temporary closure of streets wrecked by bombs. Hence the confusion, crowds, queues. In the evening the city turns into a desert. The omnibuses, taxis and trams stop. Only the Underground functions, but even then with interruptions. As a result, labour efficiency in London has decreased by approximately a fifth. For instance, the output of the 40 London factories which manufacture aircraft parts has decreased by 18%.
The morale of the population and government remains high. People are growing accustomed to life in shelters, and these have noticeably improved. The appointment of Morrison as home secretary and Wilkinson as his deputy has certainly influenced the mood of the masses.
The capitalist firms that sustained damage from the air raids display an exceptional, even animal-like power of survival. Peter Robinson and John Lewis [department stores] were bombed to pieces about three weeks ago. They have already managed to recover and are continuing a lively trade in ladies’ articles.
The probability of the German air offensive succeeding diminishes by the day.
9 October
Boothby came for lunch. He is terribly pleased with his job and his post (deputy minister of food).
He told me that from 6 a.m. today he was feeding the ‘homeless’ in the East End. The Germans dropped an enormous bomb that made a crater about 20–30 feet deep and 100 feet wide. A whole block of workers’ houses on Commercial


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Road was demolished. Fortunately, all its residents were spending the night in shelters. When they returned, their houses already lay in ruins: 250 people were left homeless. The first thing to do was to provide them with some sort of food. This should be the business of the borough council, but it is absolutely bankrupt. The Ministry of Food had to help, and Boothby set off for the East End at dawn.
Boothby says he has become enthusiastic about arranging communal kitchens. There are 50 in London already, and a few have been arranged in Birmingham, Manchester, Bristol, Liverpool and other cities. They are needed primarily to feed workers whose families have been evacuated to safe locations. A law will soon be promulgated obliging all factories that employ more than 200 workers to arrange such kitchens. As an advocate of communal kitchens, Boothby is seizing the opportunity to implement his ideas. However, he has to overcome strong opposition on the part of… the workers themselves and especially their wives. The wives stubbornly refuse to admit that communal kitchens might serve food no worse than their own. Their men are also a little suspicious of ‘communal lunches’. They are so used to the sandwiches which their wives put in their pockets in the morning. But things are going ahead all the same.
As I listened to Boothby, my mind summoned a scene from the distant past. I happened to spend a fortnight in the so called ‘Socialist Camp’ near Great Yarmouth in the summer of 1913. The camp was at the seaside and any socialist or reformer could have a proletarian tent and a proletarian meal for a very modest proletarian fee. There were many people there from all over England, mostly skilled workers, clerks, and a few intellectuals from the lower classes. After tea time, debates and discussions were held on the most diverse subjects. I remember one of the topics: what will a socialist society look like? The discussion was long and heated. Two Yorkshire miners have stuck in my memory. Socialism had their full approval and they would welcome a socialist society with open arms – under one essential condition: bread must be baked not in big communal bakeries, but by their wives at home. Otherwise the miners would not accept socialism! Not for the world!… The whole debate ended up focusing on the question of baking bread. The passions and excitement aroused by this ‘problem’ abated only once a compromise had been found, as always tends to happen in England. The debaters agreed that there would be communal bakeries, but people could, if they wished, receive their bread ration in flour, so that wives could bake bread to their husbands’ taste in their individual ovens!
I told this amusing story to Boothby. We had a good long laugh at the conservatism of the British worker.
Then we turned to the war. I asked Boothby how he saw the war developing.
Boothby is in a very bellicose mood. In his view, the war will continue until Hitlerism is completely routed.


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‘Even if takes 10 years of fighting to achieve! Or 40! Peace with Hitler is impossible! I rule out the possibility of England and Germany concluding a peace treaty signed by Hitler in the name of Germany. This cannot happen. If any British government tried to do anything of the kind, it would lead to revolution in the country, for such is the mood of nine out of ten English citizens.’
However, when I began to probe Boothby about how he thought victory against Hitler could be achieved, doubts and uncertainties began to emerge. As far as one could understand, Boothby sees the situation as follows: England will not be invaded. In winter the war will be waged in the Middle East, with its centre in Egypt. For the time being, England will be on the defensive there. The London–Berlin air war will continue, as will the unyielding blockade. When England achieves a decisive advantage in the air, it will go on to the offensive, but it will scarcely do so by land. Boothby does not consider a British march on Berlin possible – unless it is a victory march. The main offensive method will be from the air, along with the blockade.
Of course, a ten-year war might bring Germany to its knees, but who is capable of waging a ten-year war? This is not the sixteenth century, nor even the era of Napoleon. Boothby and his ilk neglect the ‘human factor’, i.e. the psychology of the working masses.
Boothby inquired about the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. I could say nothing in particular to reassure him. He responded by shaking his head, sighing and cursing.
10 October
A reception at the Chinese embassy.
According to Butler, the British government is fast reaching the conclusion that since the questions that C[omrade] Molotov described as ‘minor’ in his conversation with Cripps cannot be ‘put on ice’, it would be better to resolve them at once. Cripps is pressing strongly in this direction: he wants to clear the decks for Anglo-Soviet cooperation on more significant matters. We shall see what this means in practice.
Agniya had a go at Butler because of the delay in finding a house outside town for our women and children. He was embarrassed and promised to see to the matter personally.
Colonel Moore,
John Moore-Brabazon, lieutenant-colonel; responsible for the RFC Photographic Section during the war and the development of aerial photography; MP for Wallasey, 1931–42; minister of transport, 1940–41; minister of aircraft production, 1941–42.
dressed in uniform and ready for battle, described to me the military prospects for the next year: England will attain air supremacy by the end of winter. In April or May it will assume the offensive – not only in the


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air, but by land as well. By spring, England will have an army of 4 million at its disposal. Germany has an 800-mile coastline plus the coastline of discontented France, Holland, Belgium, etc. The British control the sea. A landing is possible. An invasion can be organized. In addition there is the effect of the blockade. England will be able to claim victory in the autumn of 1941 and conclude an honourable peace.
‘Perhaps I am an optimist,’ Moore concluded, ‘but that’s how I see it.’
I expressed my doubts about the accuracy of Moore’s calculations, if he is taking only military means of fighting into consideration. I said his notion had a chance of being realized only if England were to embark on a resolute political offensive within the next year, which would concretely mean (1) settling the India problem; (2) internal restructuring tantamount to turning England into a socialist state (I did not, however, use the word ‘socialism’); and (3) a radical change in British policy towards the Soviet Union. It is not for me to decide whether England is able to start such a political offensive, but it is clear to me that only such an offensive can bring England a genuine ‘victory’, one which would not contain the seeds of a new war.
My words greatly impressed Moore. He thought them over and said he agreed with me. But I doubt whether he clearly understood all the implications of my idea.
By the way, Moore recently bought a very old bookshop in the centre of London that is associated with Dickens and many other famous writers. He now wants to arrange tea parties there once a week and invite such men as Shaw and Wells to speak.
‘Despite the war?’ I asked rather sceptically.
‘Why should we yield to the war?’ Moore responded.
12 October
What a tour that was yesterday!
A bit of history first. During the lunch which the Halifaxes arranged for Agniya and me on 10 September,
At the luxurious Dorchester Hotel, which they had made their London residence.
we spoke at length about air raids and bomb shelters. Some three days earlier, the Germans had launched their air offensive against London. I made a tour of the East End and saw the fires and destruction in the port area. I was struck by the paucity of shelters in this part of London, fewer than in other districts with which I am more familiar. I related this impression during the course of the lunch. About two and a half weeks later, I received a long letter from Halifax where, referring to relevant statistical data, he declared that my impressions were mistaken.
Halifax’s figures proved that in the East End boroughs, where the estimated population was 520,930, there were 328,913 private shelters and 81,821 public ones, while in the West End boroughs, where the estimated population was 462,520, there were 128,744 private shelters and 70,109 public, the comparison being ‘definitely favourable towards East London’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1290 ll.6–7, 24 Sep. 1940.
In conclusion, he suggested I make a tour of the bomb shelters in the East End. Halifax promised


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to organize the tour. I decided to accept the invitation and visited the East End yesterday with Agniya.
Our ‘guide’ was Admiral Evans,
Edward Evans, admiral, naval commander and Antarctic explorer; commander-in-chief, The Nore, 1935–39, he took part in the Norwegian Campaign. Retiring from the navy in 1941, he was appointed London’s regional commissioner for civil defence.
who has just been appointed ‘dictator’ of the London bomb shelters. His chief of staff, Colonel [name missing in diary] accompanied us, as did Ellen Wilkinson, who was appointed deputy home secretary a few days ago and who is (in the words of the gallant Evans) ‘the queen of the bomb shelters’ in parliament. Ellen was with us only at the beginning of our tour though, for she was urgently needed at her ministry and had to dash off.
Our first visit was to the ‘Group 2 HQ’ (there are nine groups comprising the 95 boroughs of Greater London). The building of this ‘HQ’ had been seriously damaged a few days earlier and the staff had moved to poorly lit premises nearby. The head of ‘HQ’, a gloomy bespectacled gentleman with a hedgehog coiffure, was all but frightened by our arrival: he had not expected such ‘eminent guests’. We walked around the premises, inspected the alarm system signalling local bombings, examined a big map of London stuck with coloured pins showing where bombs had fallen (each type of bomb had its own colour), and met local administrators responsible for medical, fire-fighting, transportation, excavation and other services. All these services were concentrated right there, in the headquarters.
Then we drove to inspect the Group 2 district (St Pancras, Kentish Town, etc.). With the district authorities in tow – the gloomy head of ‘HQ’, the engineer and some others – we became a convoy of three large cars. It was somewhat unpleasant, but it couldn’t be helped. The admiral explained that the No. 2 district is one of the best in London. The local authorities have failed to rise to the occasion and have coped poorly, if at all, with the task in hand… Nonetheless, he, Admiral Evans, is not ashamed of showing me district No. 2! Let ‘Russia’ know that the British do not conceal their shortcomings! Democracy reigns in England!
We saw the bomb shelters: the Anderson type, the school type, the trench type, under a clothing store, under a textile factory, in the hotel at Euston Station, at the Carnero cigarette factory, on the streets – small and large, under a bank in the City, in the Borough of Stepney and, finally, in the big railway tunnel at Tilbury.
We were out and about for some four hours, walking, inspecting the shelters, asking questions, exchanging opinions. Summing up my impressions, I must say that all the shelters we saw except one are worthless when it comes to safety.


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At best they may protect from shrapnel. But they wouldn’t save anyone from a direct hit.
The Carnero factory was the only exception. Its owners seem to belong to the category of ‘intelligent capitalists’. Evans, who knew the old owner (now deceased), lavished praise on his ‘kind heart’ and ‘noble attitude towards his employees’. The current owners maintain the traditions established by their father. They built a superb bomb shelter for 3,000 people at a depth of 20 feet under the factory building, with a reinforced concrete ceiling, waves of electric light, an excellently equipped medical aid post, powerful air supply pumps, etc.
We chatted with the admiral as we drove from one shelter to another. He turned out to be a very cheerful and talkative man. He looks astonishingly young for his 60 years. Evans told us his story.
‘I’m an adventure-seeker by nature!’ he exclaimed with a charming laugh. ‘Much like our prime minister. Oh, Mr Churchill is a great adventurer! That’s why I believe he’ll win the war.’
Evans’s career bears out his self-portrait. His father was a lawyer. At the age of eight the boy ran away from home, headed for ‘the West Indies’. He was caught outside the London suburbs and returned to his parents. He did not calm down, however: he ran away for a second, and then a third time. In the


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end he was tried for ‘vagrancy’ and put in a workhouse. Then Evans felt drawn to the sea. He entered nautical school and joined the navy at 18. At the age of 21 he sailed with Scott
Robert Falcon Scott, British Royal Navy officer and explorer.
on board the Discovery to the Antarctic, where he spent two years. At 28, he set off with Scott again to the South Pole as his second-in-command. Spent three years on the ice. After Scott’s death, Evans led the surviving members of the expedition back to England. He captained a destroyer during the last war. In 1917, the destroyer HMS Broke, under the command of Evans, together with another destroyer, the Swift, sank six German destroyers. His life became quieter after the war as he rose up the navy. Evans became admiral of the Australian navy (he recalls this with a smile), commanded the British navy in China and in Africa, captained battleship Repulse, and finally, three years ago, became… rector of Aberdeen University. The admiral has an endless quantity of medals: his breast is covered with ribbons of different colours. He wields a pen. He is the author of several books – on sea power and on Scott’s expedition. Writing adventure books for children is his latest hobby. He is married to a Norwegian and has two sons who are also tied to the sea. In general, Admiral Evans cuts an extraordinarily colourful figure. What’s more, he is a first-class demagogue, of the classically English variety.
I saw this for myself when we arrived in Tilbury. It was already 6.30 p.m., and a sizeable crowd had gathered in and around the shelter. Anything up to 2,000 people, I would guess. First, Evans brought us to the railway office, where 15 or so officials from Stepney borough had assembled to greet us. They showed the admiral a map of the tunnel and the alterations required to convert it into a shelter. Evans had a look, had a feel, wheezed, and then launched into rapid conversation with the assembled authorities.
‘Hm…,’ the admiral bellowed, ‘will you send me the relevant letter of request tomorrow morning?’
The tall, beefy railway official to whom Evans’ question was addressed did not seem too taken with the idea of sending a letter of request, especially in such haste. But the canny admiral glanced at him meaningfully, looked at me, then shifted his eyes back to the railwayman – and the railwayman agreed: after all, it would have been a bit embarrassing to squabble in front of a foreign ambassador. Evans got his way. Then he adroitly turned to another official and added in a rapid patter: ‘You guarantee cement for tomorrow, do you not?’
The cement supplier was none too happy either, but what could he do: he also had to agree. The same happened with the suppliers of timber, iron and some other essential commodities. Everything was settled in a few minutes. Evans could justly say: ‘Veni, vidi, vici.’ My presence helped him greatly. I’m even convinced he brought me there specially to facilitate his victory. A crafty fellow!


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Then we went to see the tunnel. By this point the assembled public already knew who had come. They greeted us with loud cheers: ‘Hurrah! Long live the Soviet Union!’
Agniya and I were surrounded on all sides. People shook our hands, shouted enthusiastically, punched the air, and embraced us. But the admiral kept his head. He took us by the arm and the three of us, accompanied by a local warden and a single policeman, proceeded to the tunnel.
We walked around the shelter for 15–20 minutes. Had a look at the medical aid post, where they asked us to sign the visitors’ book. We observed the primitive – very primitive – sleeping arrangements which the East Enders had devised for themselves. The place was crowded and filthy, with wretched bedding on the stone floor, heaps of junk, and hundreds of children of all ages and appearances. The variety of individuals, and the variety of their conditions, was astonishing. I saw emaciated and hungry faces, and next to them red, well-fed physiognomies which belonged, I reckon, to the category of Whitechapel shopkeepers. Tall phlegmatic Englishmen jostled with rowdy Irishmen and nervously mobile Jews. Yes, the whole ethnographic spectrum of the East End was there.
Suddenly the admiral turned to the warden accompanying us and exclaimed: ‘Gather the people! I want to say a few words to them.’
The warden jumped on a platform of sorts and set about shouting at the top of his voice, waving his arms: ‘Over here! Over here! Admiral Evans will speak!’
The people quickly hurried over to the platform, onto which the admiral, with a lightness unusual for his age, had also managed to jump. A big, tightly packed, steaming crowd was soon assembled. Men, women and children. Hats, caps and bare heads. About two thousand people. Agniya and I stood at the foot of the platform, trying to keep in the shadows, and waited with curiosity to see what would happen next. Suddenly the admiral bent down towards us and, gesturing emphatically, addressed me: ‘And what about you? Over here please! Over here!’
The admiral started tugging me and Agniya onto the platform. Someone helped us from behind and a moment later we were standing side by side with the admiral, who was waving his arms about energetically and shouting to the crowd: ‘Come closer! Closer! Don’t be shy!’
The people moved closer, bunching up tight. Evans took off his cap, waved it, and exclaimed: ‘Our country is the country of fair play! Am I right?’
An uncertain rumble passed through the crowd. One could interpret it as a sign of approval or as a mark of disapproval. The admiral continued unabashed: ‘A few days ago the king and queen visited you here!’
The same uncertain rumble passed through the crowd, and someone in the back row cried out: ‘What about it?’
The admiral went on without batting an eyelid.
‘And today,’ he shouted with sudden emphasis, ‘I’ve brought you a different guest! I’ve brought you the Soviet ambassador!’


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And with a wide sweep of his arm, Evans gestured towards Agniya and me.
Unrestrained cheering among the crowd. Everyone started shouting: ‘Hurrah! Long live the Soviet Union! Long live the Soviet ambassador!’
Then Evans moved on to other topics. He said he sympathized with the people of the East End with all his heart. He couldn’t promise them miracles, but he was doing all he could to improve the situation. Half of the tunnel had been freed to turn it into a shelter. It had been cleansed of rubbish and stench. That was progress, but it was just the beginning.
‘I’ll give you 4,000 beds within the week!’ the admiral cried in a stentorian voice. ‘Would you like that?’
Needless to say, the crowd welcomed the admiral’s announcement with thunderous cheers.
‘I’ll not stop at that!’ roared the admiral. ‘Soon each of you will get a special seasonal ticket like this one (he pulled a small piece of green cardboard from his pocket and waved it about in the air)… On the ticket will be written the name of the owner, the name of the shelter, and the number of the bed assigned to him. What do you say, will that be good?’
‘Good! Good!’ the crowd yelled back.
The admiral continued: ‘If there is not enough room for some of you in this shelter, I’ll provide you with places in a good shelter in the City of London!’
The crowd roared with delight.
The admiral mopped his forehead, put on his cap, and we all moved to the edge of the platform in order to get down. I already considered myself ‘saved’: given my delicate diplomatic status, it would have been a bit embarrassing for me to speak at this improvised meeting in the East End. So I hastened to get down, when I was suddenly met with deafening cries: ‘Maisky! Speech! Speech! ’
Smiling broadly in all directions, I did my best to get out of it, but the shouts grew louder and louder and the people standing in the front rows rushed towards the platform to prevent my descent. The admiral spread out his arms, and giving me a friendly slap on the shoulder exclaimed: ‘And really, why not say a couple of words? Speak! You must speak!’
All escape routes had been cut off. Standing on the edge of the platform, I gestured for silence and said: ‘On behalf of my wife and myself I thank you kindly, friends, for the cordial welcome which you have given us here today.’
My voice was too weak for the gigantic space, but the crowd responded with frenzied shouts: ‘Hurrah! Hurrah!’
‘I’m especially touched by this welcome,’ I continued, ‘because I well understand that your greetings are addressed not so much to me and my wife as to the country I represent.’


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The shouts grew even wilder. A section of the crowd started singing the ‘Internationale’.
‘Let me thank you once more, with all my heart!’ I concluded and began getting down from the platform.
A few seconds later and we were all on the ground. The crowd was delirious. A path opened for the three of us – myself, Agniya and the admiral. Agniya and I were once again squeezed on all sides, embraced, and shaken by the hand. An elderly woman with light brown hair and a face webbed with deep wrinkles cried out in Russian: ‘Our Russia is still alive!’
Hundreds of people on both sides raised their clenched fists in salutation. The ‘Internationale’ sounded louder and louder.
‘What are they singing?’ asked the admiral naively. ‘“Red Flag”?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘They are singing the “Internationale”. It’s our Soviet national hymn.’
‘Is that right?’ The admiral was surprised. ‘I had never heard it before.’
We arrived, at last, at our cars and climbed in, to the accompaniment of loud shouts: ‘Long live the Soviet Union!’
Once again, the ‘Internationale’. Once again, raised fists.
The admiral was somewhat amazed. He had hardly expected the Soviet ambassador to be accorded such a warm welcome. But he lost neither his presence of mind nor his good cheer. We headed off to the embassy for a cup of tea. And on the way I thought: ‘This is how the East End greets the Soviet ambassador today. If the war lasts two more years, Piccadilly will greet him in a similar way.’
C[omrade] Vyshinsky
Andrei Yanuarevich Vyshinsky, a former Menshevik, he was prosecutor general of the USSR, 1935–39, in charge of the rigged political trials, most of which ended in death sentences being handed down; deputy chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars, 1939–44, and first deputy to people’s commissar for foreign affairs, 1940–46; minister for foreign affairs, 1949–53.
summoned Cripps on 9 October to hand him a note of protest against the actions of British authorities in respect of the Baltic ships moored in British ports. The note holds the British government responsible for the damage caused by these actions. It further demands the removal of the obstacles preventing the immediate return of the Baltic ships to the Soviet Union, and the release of the gold reserves of the Baltic republics kept in London, at least so as to cover the ongoing expenses of the said ships. The note also stresses the inadmissibility of the arrest of Baltic sailors in Canada (the Ubari steamer) and other reprisals committed against them.
Cripps responded with a statement saying that the ships are just one part of the Baltic question, and the British government will hardly agree to consider this matter separately. For his part, Cripps proposes on behalf of the British


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government to put the entire Baltic question on ice for six months and open trade negotiations in the meantime.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky answered that the Soviet government has no reason to change the point of view which he expounded to Cripps during their previous meeting. The Soviet government is not against trading with England, but it also does not wish to publicize it widely.
Cripps then said that trade deals between the two countries for separate commodities would not produce satisfactory results. They will merely arouse suspicion in England that the USSR is re-exporting to Germany the products it has imported from England. That is no way to improve relations. So Cripps thinks it advisable to open negotiations concerning general commodity exchange between the two countries, if only on a ‘narrow base’ (he referred to his conversation with C[omrade] Mikoyan on 14 July).
Before parting, Cripps told C[omrade] Vyshinsky that he felt that the conversation had broken the stalemate on the matter of trade negotiations.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky said he thought so, too.
The trade union congress held in Southport from 7 to 10 October has ended. Five million members were represented (a 300,000 increase over the year). A further increase of 500,000 is expected in 1941. In part, this is down to the line taken by Bevin, with his demand that the firms fulfilling government contracts recognize the trade unions.
The mood at the congress was extraordinarily bellicose. Everything proceeded under the banner ‘War until Hitlerism is crushed’, without further specifications. The following episode serves as a curious illustration of these sentiments. Even before the congress opened, Elvin,
Herbert Henry Elvin was the general secretary of the TUC in 1938.
on behalf of his union of clerks, tabled a resolution demanding that peace be concluded by way of negotiations and agreement. Sensing the atmosphere at the congress, he withdrew the resolution once the sessions were under way. However, he failed to be re-elected to the General Council and was replaced by a certain O’Brien,
Tom O’Brien, member of the TUC General Council from 1940.
a man of no distinction and a loyal advocate of the ‘general line’ of the majority.
Another symptom of the same mood was the decision to ban the Daily Worker correspondent from the congress. Despite strong opposition to this decision on the part of Horner
Arthur Lewis Horner, president, South Wales miners, 1936–46.
(communist, chairman of the South Wales miners), Wall (secretary of the printers’ union) and Hunter (representative of the union of journalists), the congress participants refused to allow the representative of a communist newspaper to attend their meetings.


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The trade employees’ delegate Berger
H. Berger.
put forward a proposal to refer back the chapter of a report dealing with the Finnish war and brimming with anti-Soviet insinuations. Berger made a fine speech arguing that the Soviet Union, the only socialist state in the world, was obliged to take measures to safeguard its security at any price. Interestingly, every mention of Soviet successes in Berger’s speech was met with loud cheers. Citrine’s response, full of anti-Soviet venom, was met with icy silence. But, when it came to the vote, the ‘machine’ did its job: a 70% majority saw off Berger’s proposal.
The dominant figure at the Congress was undoubtedly Bevin. Citrine was pushed to the background and obviously didn’t like it. A short while before the congress a minor scandal had occurred between Bevin and Citrine. Bevin had agreed with Churchill that workers who lost their tools as a result of air raids would receive compensation of up to 100 pounds. Unaware of this, Citrine wrote a letter to the Treasury on the same matter and suggested setting a compensation of up to 25 pounds. This led to a real tiff between Bevin and Citrine. It was expected that the issue would be discussed at the congress. But the conflict was quashed behind the scenes.
Bevin engaged in various forms of demagogy at the congress, declaring, for instance, that the Ministry of Labour would get its hands on the Foreign Office and take measures to infuse ‘fresh blood’ into its ranks. I’d like to see how he does that.
Balkan matters are on the agenda.
Subbotić told me today that the G[erman] G[overnment] has assured Belgrade that its activities in Rumania in no way reflect aggressive intentions towards other Balkan countries, Yugoslavia in particular. The Yugoslav government knows the value of German assurances, of course, but all the same it is, for the moment, feeling a little relieved.
Simopoulos, in his turn, tried to show that the Italian press campaign against Greece is nothing but a bluff aimed at undermining the authority of Metaxas
Ioannis Metaxas, prime minister of Greece, 1936–41.
in Greece. Simopoulos does not think it will all end in a real war. I’m not so sure.
Simopoulos outlined the situation in Bulgaria in the following way: the people are for ‘Russia’, the top brass for Germany. King Boris
King Boris III of Bulgaria, 1918–43.
manoeuvres between the two poles.
Simopoulos has also gleaned from German sources that the German calculation in September was that a two-week air offensive against London would suffice to bring England to its knees. An invasion would not even be needed. They miscalculated badly.


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***
Randolph Churchill dropped in. He assured me that invasion is off. He outlined the prospects for the winter in the following way: an Anglo-German air war and defensive operations in Egypt. The British government is certain it can repulse the Italians there. By spring 1941, England will achieve air superiority over Germany. It will be followed by British offensives against Germany in the air and against Italy in the air, by land and at sea – in Africa and in Europe. England will not yet be ready for an offensive against Germany by land in 1941. The blockade of Germany, of course, will continue unceasingly and implacably.
I wonder how events will develop in reality.
[In his diary, Bilainkin describes a tour he was given of the £1,500 (approximately £65,000 in today’s money) air-raid shelter constructed ‘many feet below garden level’ at the Soviet embassy (still in situ today!):
The tube, of reinforced concrete, is the size of that in London’s underground railways; it is covered by a foot of reinforced concrete, earth, more reinforced concrete, more earth, yet more reinforced concrete and yet much more earth. The whole is well ventilated and has several compartments. One is for the Ambassador and Mme Maisky; here I saw a portable wireless set (house manager promptly obtained Moscow on the short-wave), a house telephone, a central exchange telephone, two forms of lighting, good bedding (tasteful blue satin). Embassy has special plant for cleaning air in shelter; pick-axes are in position, shovels, impressive boxes full of meat in tins, sardines, peaches; also soda water, knives, forks and spoons.
Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, pp. 100–1.
The families and children of the Soviet personnel at the embassy were evacuated in early October to ‘a fairly large and comfortable house’ in a village near Cheltenham. Agniya categorically refused to leave London. ‘Her presence by my side,’ recalled Maisky, ‘was a serious support for me. And for political reasons it was more to our advantage that the British should see the wife of the Soviet Ambassador “in the front line”, not in the rear.’ To catch up on their sleep, they tended to spend the weekends out of London at the house of their close friend, Juan Negrín, the former prime minister of the Spanish Republican government.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 116–18.
Maisky hinted a couple of times to Molotov that the Germans could perhaps be asked to spare the embassy. He was convinced, as he cabled Molotov, that it was no coincidence that the Soviet embassy was particularly targeted by the Germans. He attributed it to Ribbentrop’s ‘extreme hostility’ towards him personally, dating back to the German foreign minister’s time as ambassador to London. Being ‘a vengeful person’, Maisky guessed, he was trying to ‘take his revenge’ on him from the air. ‘It may seem a fantasy,’ he concluded, ‘but we now live in fantastic times.’
DVP, 1940, XXIII/1, doc. 401, 25 Sep. 1940.
]
13 October


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There have been no noticeable changes in the character of the air offensive. This past week (6th–12th) was like the previous one. The intensity merely increased a little, roughly reaching the level of the last week of September.
The general picture remained the same. Accuracy was no better. The centre of attention, as before, was London. Liverpool, Birmingham and Manchester were bombed, too, but the strikes were relatively infrequent and weak. The ports in Liverpool and Glasgow are intact. Industry in London and the provinces has suffered little. The Germans have had no luck with ‘military targets’. And yet, many households were destroyed, picture theatres, shops, hospitals, etc. The London port has become considerably emptier: because of the air offensive against the capital city, maritime traffic is concentrated to an ever greater extent on the western coast, mostly in Liverpool and Glasgow.
It’s now absolutely clear that the Germans have decided to cease using bombers by day: the losses are too great. They are now sending fighters (Messerschmitt 109 and 110) instead of bombers during daylight hours. Even though a fighter can carry only 10% of a bomber’s load, it is faster and swifter, and it is easier for a fighter to break through to London and escape British interceptors. In consequence, German losses have decreased considerably, but their strike power has been seriously weakened.
20 October
The Germans have finally abandoned the mass bombing of London by day in view of their heavy losses. No more bombers by day. Instead, the capital is bombed by fighters (they break through in small groups), accompanied by fighter escorts (which do not carry bombs) at a proportion of eight escorts per fighter. The fighter-bombers fly at an altitude of 8–9,000 metres. It is difficult to detect them, and still harder to give them chase. The moral and material effect of the day raids is generally negligible.
The night raids (from approximately seven in the evening until six in the morning) are worse. They are executed by bombers without escorts: they are safe at night. The bombers arrive in groups of 200–300 machines. They cause heavy damage but… they barely touch military facilities. These are difficult to hit.
Total daily casualties of up to 600 people, including 200 killed.
To sum up: the Germans are helpless by day, and the British are helpless by night. London generally lives a normal life by day, but turns into a fortress besieged from the air at night.


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22 October
On behalf of the British government, Cripps has asked C[omrade] Molotov for an audience on a matter of ‘paramount political importance’. C[omrade] Molotov could not receive Cripps, so instead Cripps met C[omrade] Vyshinsky, to whom he submitted a special memorandum. Its concluding part contained three points:
(1) The British government announces its readiness to recognize ‘de facto’ the changes in the Baltics so as to settle ‘de jure’ the whole issue later, probably after the war.
(2) The British government declares itself prepared to ensure the participation of the USSR, on an equal basis, in the settlement of European affairs after the war.
(3) The British government promises not to participate in any military actions against the USSR.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky told Cripps that he would report the matter to the Soviet government.
29 October Cripps submitted a note of protest to NKID against the Soviet government’s decision to take part in the Danube commission, accusing the USSR of violating neutrality.
2 November C[omrade] Vyshinsky handed Cripps the response of the Soviet government concerning the Danube question, which boiled down to a request to the British government not to meddle in matters which don’t concern it.
Then C[omrade] Vyshinsky touched upon several other questions.
(1) Talking with C[omrade] Lozovsky
Solomon Abramovich Lozovsky (Dridzo), a former Menshevik, he was the secretary of the Red International of Labour Unions (Profintern), 1920–37, and deputy Soviet commissar for foreign affairs, 1939–46; a member of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee during the war, he was arrested in 1952 during Stalin’s anti-Jewish campaign, and executed.
on 23 July, Cripps said that the British government wished the nickel concession in Petsamo to pass into the hands of the Soviet Union or to a joint Soviet–Finnish company and that the British government was even prepared to offer technical assistance in this matter. Meanwhile Paasikivi informed the Soviet government that the British envoy in Helsinki, Vereker, had objected to Cripps’s suggestion, calling it ‘personal opinion’. How should this be understood?
Cripps replied that this story was the product of a misunderstanding. Three days ago the British government confirmed Cripps’s suggestion to C[omrade] Lozovsky by telegram, but with one reservation: the concession should pass over to the USSR or to a Soviet–Finnish company until the end of the war, after which the issue might be reconsidered.


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(2) The Soviet government has not received a reply to its note of 9 October concerning the Baltic ships. Neither has Cripps fulfilled his promise to release the Baltic reserves in London to cover the ships’ expenses. All this creates a bad impression: there is much talk and desire to improve relations, but no deeds. On the contrary, there are facts testifying to open hostility. One fresh example. A Finnish firm, carrying out Soviet orders, wanted to buy tin in the United States, but the British mission in Helsinki informed this firm that British sea control would not allow the tin, needed to fulfil Soviet contracts, to pass through.
Cripps replied that the incident with the tin was a tragic error which he could easily rectify. The significance of such incidents should not be exaggerated.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky further said that the suggestion made by Cripps on 18 October concerning the signing of a charter deal for requisitioned ships between the Soviet and British governments is unacceptable to us, because the Soviet government cannot, as a general principle, accept the British government’s right to requisition Soviet property. C[omrade] Vyshinsky repeated the demand for the removal of obstacles preventing ships from returning to the Soviet Union.
(3) On 26 October, Cripps asked C[omrade] Mikoyan to sell a certain quantity of oil to Greece. In this connection C[omrade] Vyshinsky posed Cripps a question: will the British government agree to allow the passage of 5,000 tons of oil for France through the Mediterranean? Cripps replied that the British government could not agree to this. So C[omrade] Vyshinsky said that the Soviet government could not accept such discrimination. But this was a question for the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Trade.
(4) Cripps asked C[omrade] Vyshinsky two questions: (a) What is the USSR’s attitude to the war between Italy and Greece? and (b) What does C[omrade] Stalin think of a possible improvement in relations between the USSR and Turkey?
C[omrade] Vyshinsky answered that the Soviet attitude to the war between Italy and Greece follows from the general principles of Soviet foreign policy. As for C[omrade] Stalin’s views on the matter which interests Cripps, C[omrade] Vyshinsky cannot say anything on behalf of C[omrade] Stalin without special authorization.
Cripps then inquired about the opinion of the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs on this question.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky answered that in its relations with Turkey the USSR abides by the 1925 treaty of non-aggression.


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[The British initiative came five days after the invitation for Molotov to meet Hitler in Berlin on 11 November had reached the Kremlin. ‘It looks,’ Lloyd George wrote to Maisky, ‘as if once more we have been too late.’
Lloyd George papers, LG/G/14/19, 28 Oct. 1940.
]
2 November
Nearly three months of fierce combat in the air. What are the conclusions and the results?
Let’s begin with the protagonists. We have two well-armed, if numerically unequal, parties. This is the first experience so far of large-scale, serious air war.
The Germans’ advantages: great numerical superiority (3:1 at the beginning) and the proximity of bases to targets (150–200 km from the airfields in northern France and Belgium to London).
The advantages of the British: better quality of aircraft materials, better petrol quality, a longer period of pilot training, the war is ‘at home’, which means that the British planes shot down fall on their own territory and nearly half of the pilots save themselves with parachutes.
The large scale of the war is reflected in the fact that many hundreds of planes are engaged in the raids every day. The maximum number of German planes, 1,000, was recorded on 15 August. The raids come in waves, with intervals of several hours. The attacks are not concentrated on one specific city or even a specific part of London. They are of a somewhat superficial, scattered nature. London has been the focus of attack since 7 September. The Germans have been increasingly switching from daytime to night-time sorties. Two to three hundred bombers attack systematically every night from dusk till dawn, but that quantity of machines cannot do serious damage to such a giant metropolis as London.
The efficacy of the German air offensive in respect of military targets is strangely negligible. The damage inflicted on industrial facilities, ports, railways, airfields, etc. does not exceed 5–10% of their capacity countrywide. Human losses are not great: no more than 20,000 killed and 40–50,000 gravely wounded over three months.
The reason for this low efficacy lies in the strength of British resistance. Fighters should be mentioned first. As this three-month experience shows, fighters are the main means of repelling air attacks: 85–90% of crashed German planes were brought down by fighters. Fighters, furthermore, do not allow German bombers to stay long in the air, forcing them to drop bombs in a rush from high altitude. Fighters also prevent bombers from diving and disrupt the formations of the attack squadrons. British fighters render the Germans powerless in daylight. They tried to change their tactics (at first the bombers


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were accompanied by an equal number of fighters, then the number of escorting fighters was increased to 8:1, and then fighters accompanied by fighter escorts replaced bombers), but nothing came of it. Following the decision to stop using bombers in daylight, German losses have decreased in the last two weeks (no more than 15–20 planes daily), but the strike power of the attacks has been considerably weakened, since a fighter can carry merely 10% of a bomber’s load. On the other hand, the British are powerless at night, when fighters are practically useless. The British have yet to find another means of dealing with night raids (although they are working on this problem intensively). That is why the Germans are increasingly focusing on night raids on London.
The role of anti-aircraft artillery in repelling air attacks proves rather limited. Anti-aircraft guns hit merely 10–15% of all the German planes brought down. However, anti-aircraft defensive fire has two positive effects. First, it forces the Germans to remain at an altitude of 5–7 km, which seriously affects bombing accuracy. Second, it bolsters the morale of the London population.
Barrage balloons play a useful, but auxiliary role. They play on the pilot’s mind and make dive bombing still more difficult. The higher the balloons are raised the better. So it is better to fill the balloons with helium rather than with hydrogen.
The defence lines between the coast and London (fighters, anti-aircraft artillery, barrage balloons) are very important. The distance between Dover and London is about 100 km as the crow flies, but thanks to the effective lines of defence no more than 10–15% of German raiders manage to break through to London in daylight hours. These defence lines prove effective (albeit to a far lesser degree) at night as well.
The statistics of British and German losses in air combat published by the British are in general quite realistic. I have had occasion to verify this more than once.
By all appearances, in the second half of September, when the low efficacy of the air offensive from the point of view of an invasion became apparent, the Germans gambled on undermining the population’s and government’s morale. Curiously, in London, they bombed mainly the city centre (to scare the bourgeoisie) and workers’ districts (to spur the masses to protest against the war).
Nonetheless, the experience of these three months shows beyond doubt that, given a firm government, a relatively solid home front, effective resistance to the enemy, and those shelters that have been put up, albeit imperfectly, in London and other cities, it is not enough to launch an air offensive alone, in the forms and dimensions we have observed hitherto (gas has not yet been used), to undermine the morale of the population.
One more conclusion suggests itself: aviation combined with land (especially mechanized) forces is massively powerful. As the experience of Poland and


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France has shown, this combination can decide a war. Aircraft alone, when unaccompanied by armies on the ground and when met with more or less serious resistance in the air, has relatively limited potential. Aviation alone is not decisive. That is why ‘stalemate in the air’ has been reached after the three-month air war between England and Germany. Neither party has succeeded in achieving mastery of the skies.
4 November
Conversing with Churchill on 3 July, I asked: what does the major strategy of the British government consist of?’
Churchill grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and said: ‘Major strategy? First of all, to survive the next three months, and then we shall see.’
Four months have passed since then. England has not only survived: she is stronger than she was at the time of my talk with the prime minister. German plans for an invasion have fallen through. The famous Channel has saved Great Britain once more, as it has on more than one occasion down the ages. Hitler’s weakness at sea, together with the failure to secure air supremacy over the Channel, wrecked Germany’s only chance of overcoming the resistance supplied by a strip of water 40 kilometres wide. Hitler experienced the same fate as Napoleon 135 years ago: he lost the Battle of Britain. It is still too early to review all the consequences of this fact, but they must be serious.
As far as one can judge on the basis of all the information available in London (which tallies well with the facts), Hitler’s major strategy offered the following picture: a triumphant conclusion of the war before the onset of winter. Hitler was mainly relying on the effect on morale of the French defeat. He was confident that England would cease to resist after the ‘French lesson’ and would immediately seek a ‘compromise’. That’s why Mussolini hastened to enter the war in early June: he was firmly convinced that the war would end a few weeks after the capitulation of France. Of course, Hitler had a plan for invasion up his sleeve just in case. However, he counted on the war being over this year whatever the circumstances, and on it ending with Germany’s brilliant victory.
All Hitler’s plans and hopes came unstuck. England’s resistance, which Hitler did not expect, and the increasingly active role of the USA in the war, upset all his calculations. Hitler chose not to risk an open assault on England; it would have been too dangerous. Of course, the decision not to attempt to invade represents, in essence, a failure – Hitler’s first serious failure of the war. But only specialists – strategists and politicians – understand this. For the time being, Hitler may be able to hide his failure from the broad masses, particularly in Germany. But one thing is certain: Hitler’s plans for a short, victorious war


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have been frustrated. Now he has to accept a prolonged war of attrition with all the military and revolutionary dangers that such a war may conceal.
Well, and England? Where does England stand today?
The British government has won the Battle of Britain. But that is not enough. Winning one battle does not always mean winning the war. The blow aimed at the heart of the British Empire has been warded off, but… what next? Having lost his Battle of Britain, Napoleon marched eastward and soon found consolation in Austerlitz, Jena and Wagram. Won’t Hitler do something similar? There are many signs to suggest that Hitler may be turning towards the south and south-east. If he cannot strike at the heart of the British Empire, why not try striking at its most important nerve centres in other parts of the globe? We shall see what successes Hitler will have in this direction, if any.
But for England an extremely difficult situation is now emerging. Its official goal is ‘to crush Hitlerism’, which amounts to crushing Germany. All, on both right and left, swear to do this. Very well… But how? It is one thing to avoid defeat – England may assume it has achieved this. But winning the war is a very different matter. And it is not clear how this may be achieved in the foreseeable future.
Indeed, how do members of the government and other leaders envisage events unfolding? Summing up what I have heard in recent months from Halifax, Butler, Eden, Dalton, Sinclair, Morrison, Alexander and others, I can sketch the following picture.
The winter period: blockade, London–Berlin air war, combat operations in the Near East (Egypt), and possibly operations in Gibraltar or Western Africa. Simultaneously, a concentrated effort to build up the army, air force and navy. This build-up should reach such dimensions by the summer of 1941 that a ‘small offensive’ against Italy in Africa and in Europe should be feasible. There is a growing sense in British government circles that Italy is the weak link in the ‘Axis’ and that England should exploit that link first and foremost. Operations against the Italian navy are possible at any moment, even before the launching of a ‘small offensive’.
All this, however, concerns Italy. The strategy against Germany is conceived quite differently in government circles. In 1941, these circles intend to go no further than a major air offensive against Germany, placing great hopes on new machines (the Sterling [sic – Stirling] bomber, the modified Spitfire, etc.). They are not planning a land offensive against Germany next year. And this is hardly surprising. In 1941, England can count on 4 million soldiers at most, who are not particularly well trained and armed and, moreover, are led by a second-rate general staff. How, then, can one even dream of attacking an 8 million-strong German army of well-trained and well-armed soldiers, commanded by an excellent general staff? Even if the United States were to enter the war


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within the next few months, it would take no less than two years for serious reinforcements to arrive in Europe to help the British. No wonder, then, that when British leaders are posed the question ‘How do you intend to beat Germany?’ they usually appeal to the superior material and human resources of the British Empire and promise ‘victory’ in 1942, 1943 or later.
Their views derive either from misunderstanding or from hypocrisy. A prolonged war of attrition over many years bears huge revolutionary potential – not only for Germany, but also for England and the British Empire. There can be no doubt that the English elite will set about seeking a ‘compromise’ with ‘Hitlerism’ long before these possibilities become realities.
That is why it seems to me that the ruling classes here are faced with an acute dilemma: either to find new allies who could help England ‘settle’ this war by purely military means with their authority and might, or, should this prove impossible, to seek a compromise peace…
The hunt for allies is now on, with the United States to the fore. But in the long run the ruling circles also dream of an alliance with the Soviet Union, in spite of all our refutation, explanation, etc. Should hopes of active support from the United States be frustrated, and should the United States wish to stay above the fray or cut its aid significantly, the issue of a ‘deal’ with Germany would soon enter the agenda, especially if serious cracks in the social structure of the country started emerging. There are quite a few advocates in England of such a ‘deal’ with Germany. Now they are lying low, but they are ready to raise their heads and break their silence.
This is what I can see now from my ‘London window’.
Much will depend on various other factors that are difficult to take into account at present: on Germany – its military and diplomatic actions and its internal condition; on the sentiments of the broad European masses; and on the activity and consciousness of the proletariat…
Who can foresee all this?
Maisky’s evaluation (based on the diary entry) which he sent to Moscow evidently left a mark on Stalin’s directive to Molotov for the negotiations with Hitler in Berlin; DVP, 1940, XXIII/2, doc. 479.
5 November
I saw Lloyd George two days ago. The old man gave the following assessment of the situation.
The ‘invasion’ failed. However, he does not see how this or that side might ‘win’. England and Germany operate in different elements: England does not have an army and Germany does not have a navy. It is like a fight between a shark and a tiger. How can one pin the other to the ground?
The situation would not change radically even if the United States were to enter the war. They would need at least three years to build an army of 3–4 million, to train it, arm it and send it to Europe. But even then, the joint


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Anglo-American army will number merely 8 million; what’s more, the German general staff will be a cut above its British counterpart. England can only crush Germany properly with the aid of the Soviet Union, but the preconditions for this are currently lacking.
Lloyd George believes it highly unlikely that the war will last another three years. He is inclined to think that a situation conducive to a compromise peace will evolve during the winter of 1941/42.
11 November
A huge bomb fell near the trade mission building on the night of the 10th to 11th, causing massive damage. The building still stands, but all the windows are smashed, the inner walls and partitions have collapsed, the furniture is broken, etc. The building has become uninhabitable, and much money and time will be needed to repair it. Our economic planners will have to move. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Everyone was sleeping in the mission’s shelter and escaped with nothing worse than a fright.
***
I visited Morrison at the Home Office. How dark, dirty and bleak the corridors are in that building! I couldn’t help recalling the Police Department of tsarist times.
We spoke first about London anti-aircraft defence and, in particular, shelters. Morrison was guarded and elusive on the topic of ‘deep shelters’ (in favour of which he himself recently spoke with great enthusiasm from the opposition bench), with words to the effect that he was ready to ‘study all practical proposals’ in this sphere.
Then he switched to political matters. The threat of an invasion, according to him, has passed. The focus of war shifts to the Near East. To save the world, a united front of England, USA, the USSR and China should be created.
I objected, arguing that it is hardly possible to expect such grandiose combinations at a time when England and the USSR cannot successfully resolve (and through no fault of our own) even the relatively small issue of the Baltic States.
Morrison began explaining to me why there has been no movement on the Baltic issue: ‘We would very much like to do something pleasant for you, but we do not want to do something unpleasant for America. And that is understandable. If we do something pleasant for you – we still don’t know what we’ll get in return. And if we do something pleasant for America – we know very well what we’ll get in return. We will get what we most need at this time. So pleasing the USSR conflicts with pleasing the USA, and it is absolutely clear where our choice must lie. Otherwise we would be bad merchants and


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politicians. I can assure you that the British government is very keen to reach agreement with the Soviet Union, but not at the expense of the United States.’
Straightforward and cynical, as always with Morrison. Still, I prefer his lack of ceremony to the sugary syrup of Attlee and Greenwood.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky received Cripps at the latter’s request on 11 November. Cripps was in a very agitated and irritated state of mind.
Cripps began with a statement to the effect that he regards C[omrade] Molotov’s refusal to see him on 22 October and receive the British proposals an unfriendly act. The news of C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to Berlin (without any response being given to the British proposals) only confirms this. Cripps asks C[omrade] Vyshinsky to answer two questions: (1) Should he understand this as a rejection of the British proposals by the Soviet government? (2) Can he report to the British government that C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to Berlin in the current situation indicates the Soviet government’s unwillingness to improve relations with England? Cripps finds it useless to make further efforts to improve relations between the two countries and will convey his views concerning Molotov’s visit to Berlin to the British government.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky replied that it would be wrong to link C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to the Soviet government’s attitude to the British proposals of 22 October. These are two different things. The purpose of C[omrade] Molotov’s visit is clearly stated in the communiqué published on this matter.
As far as the proposals of 22 October are concerned, C[omrade] Vyshinsky can only express his personal opinion regarding the sentiments they elicit in Soviet government circles. This opinion can be summarized as follows: C[omrade] Vyshinsky fails to understand what England wants from us. The proposals of 22 October give us less than we already have. C[omrade] Vyshinsky wonders how the British government, itself under siege, could have made such proposals at all?
Cripps, speaking more calmly, said that the general basis should be agreed upon first, while individual questions could be discussed later. Cripps was very anxious during the conversation, expressed his indignation, etc., but C[omrade] Vyshinsky put him firmly in his place.
Then Cripps asked whether the rumours were true that the USSR had decided to withdraw from Balkan affairs and was prepared to acknowledge German hegemony in this part of the world.
In reply C[omrade] Vyshinsky referred him to the clarification given in Krasnaya Zvezda in connection with Arapetyan’s article.
Cripps stated that the quarrel over the Baltic ships could hardly be settled before a general agreement between England and the USSR had been concluded.


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C[omrade] Vyshinsky, however, insisted on the satisfaction of the demands set out in the Soviet note of 9 October.
Cripps also declared that the Baltic sailors were not lacking for anything (this is absolutely untrue).
12 November
Subbotić came to see me. He is terribly alarmed and concerned about C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to Berlin.
‘The Italo-Greek war,’ said Subbotić, ‘Graziani’s plans in Egypt, and British operations in the Mediterranean – all that completely pales in comparison. The outcome of the war, maybe the fate of the world, will be decided at that meeting in Berlin!’
Naturally enough, Subbotić worries most of all about the possible connections between the Berlin meeting and the events in the Balkans, primarily in Yugoslavia and Turkey. He hopes that ‘Russia will not forget Yugoslavia’, and that the interests of his country will not suffer as a result of the meeting in Berlin. Clearly, C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to Berlin has caused great unease in Belgrade.
I told Subbotić that I was not privy to the agenda of the Berlin meeting but, judging by the persons accompanying C[omrade] Molotov, economic issues will be the focus of attention. I could also assure him in advance that the Berlin meeting would not bring about any changes whatsoever to our policy of neutrality.
Then we spoke about events in Greece. In Subbotić’s words, the Greeks themselves are greatly amazed at their own heroism. At any rate, this is the impression of Simopoulos and his staff. Despite all the Greek success, however, Subbotić does not believe that the Greeks can hold out for long, unless the British transfer large military resources onto continental Greece. But the British government does not intend to do so. Its policy is confined to occupation of the Greek islands and bases, and to helping Greece with its air force and navy
Subbotić has heard that Eden is back from the Near East in a very optimistic mood. Eden is sure the British will be able to hold on to Egypt.
[Since the fall of France, Hitler had been facing the dilemma of whether to attempt to bring the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact up to date through arrangements in South-East Europe or, alternatively, to proceed with vigorous preparations for war. The idea of a meeting between Molotov and Hitler originated with von Schulenburg, the German ambassador to Moscow, during a brief visit to Berlin. The realization that Russia had no intention of retreating from the Balkans prompted Schulenburg to seek


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a four-power pact between Germany, Russia, Italy and Japan, in order to delineate spheres of influence. Hitler’s expectations of the meeting did not tally with those of his ambassador: he assumed that, after his general idea for the ‘new Europe’ was outlined, the negotiations would gradually crystallize into a rigid proposal for delimitation that would exclude Russia from Europe and the Balkans and reflect German military supremacy. He had no intention of accommodating the Russians, beyond forcing Turkey to yield to some guarantees in the Straits and security arrangements in the Baku region. There is little to support the prevailing view that, during his visit to Berlin, Molotov conspired with Hitler to divide up the entire world – and more specifically to carve up the British Empire.
The directive for the talks, dictated to Molotov in Stalin’s dacha and taken in longhand, was confined to intrinsic Soviet interests in the Balkans and the Turkish Straits, and was dominated by considerations of security. Foremost were repeated demands for the establishment of Soviet control of the mouth of the Danube and involvement in the decision on the ‘fate of Turkey’. Bulgaria, as in the war of 1877–78, was to be ‘the main topic of the negotiations’ and was expected to fall into the Soviet sphere of influence. In order to mitigate German influence, Stalin sought to include even a battered Britain in a peace conference, which he expected to be promptly convened. Maisky’s assertion that Britain could not be written off and might even emerge victorious at the end of a slow and arduous process was of cardinal importance for the objectives sought at the Berlin meeting.
AVP RF f.06 op.2 p.15 d.157 ll.67–8, 3 Nov. 1940.
A telegram from Stalin caught up with Molotov on the train as he was en route to Berlin. This reaffirmed the instructions not to broach with Germany any issues concerning the British Empire. Indeed, in Berlin Molotov endorsed Maisky’s view that it was ‘too early to bury England’.
Presidential Archives, Moscow, copy of handwritten notes by Molotov, 9 Nov.; AVP RF f.059 op.1 p.338 d.2314 l.2, Stalin to Molotov, 11 Nov. 1940. To prevent any misunderstanding, Maisky received a succinct but accurate report from Molotov on what transpired in Berlin, see AVP RF f.059 op.1 p.326 d.2239 ll.112–14, 17 Nov. 1940.
Maisky’s firm position following Molotov’s talks in Berlin is recorded in Beatrice Webb’s diary:
He is of the same opinion still, that though we shall succeed in the defensive and may control the Mediterranean, we shall not beat Germany. The war in the air will drag on, and we may, unless the USA is unlimited in its help, have to accept a patched up peace with Hitler, leaving him still dominant in Europe. Or if Germany gets hopelessly paralyzed by our air attack, there will be an internal revolution (Communist) in both Germany and France, which we shall not be able to put down or control.
Webb, diary, 28 Nov. 1940, p. 6998.
No wonder Butler, somewhat misled by Maisky’s failure to grasp the premises of Stalin’s foreign policy, gained the impression that Soviet policy was ‘to await a change in English politics and English political thought, which would result in a Government and a social structure in this country more understandable to the Soviet way of life’. As he assumed that the Soviet leaders were ‘bent upon world revolution, and consider England a suitable breeding ground for their ideas’, he was in favour of keeping them at arm’s length.
TNA FO 371 24848 N7354/40/38, 27 Nov. 1940.
Cripps was accordingly instructed by Halifax to sit tight, as the Russians seemed to be intent on appeasing Germany, which ‘they feel cannot be trifled with’, while Britain ‘they can ignore and rebuff with impunity’.
TNA FO 800/322, pp. 365–9, Halifax to Cripps, 27 Nov. 1940.
]


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19 November
C[omrade] Vyshinsky received Cripps at the latter’s request.
Cripps raised three questions:
(1) Having failed to receive a reply from the Soviet government to its proposal about the chartering of the Baltic ships, the British government will act independently and will, at its own discretion, set the sum of charter money to be deposited in a special account. The fate of this money will be decided later.
(2) The British government would like to know what measures the Soviet government intends to take to repatriate in the USSR the 300 sailors from the Baltic ships who wish to return home. Cripps mentioned the possibility of interning these sailors.
(3) The Finnish government has asked the British government about the latter’s opinion concerning the transfer of the Petsamo nickel concessions to the Soviet government. The British government replied that it would not object if two conditions were observed: nickel shall not end up in Germany, and the concession shall be transferred only for the duration of the war.
C[omrade] Vyshinsky’s reply boiled down to the following:
(1) The first question. The attitude of the Soviet government to the issue of the ships is well known. The Soviet government does not, as a matter of principle, recognize the British government’s right to requisition Soviet property. Consequently, there can be no negotiations on chartering, the cost of chartering, etc.
(2) As for the second question, the Soviet government is certainly concerned about the repatriation of sailors, but does not consider it possible to send a special ship for them from the Soviet Union, as there are enough Soviet ships in British ports. If the British government should try to intern the Baltic sailors, who are Soviet citizens, the S[oviet] G[overnment] would respond in the sharpest manner. Cripps said at this point that he would contact the British government with a view to singling out one of the Baltic ships for the repatriation of its sailors.
(3) The third question. Cripps’s present statement regarding the Petsamo concession differs from his previous statement that ‘the concession should not fall into German hands’. C[omrade] Vyshinsky promised to report the matter to the Soviet government, but expressed doubt as to whether the conditions set by the British government would be acceptable to us.
In conclusion, C[omrade] Vyshinsky categorically refuted the statement made in the British note of 16 November that the Soviet embassy in London had leaked the proposals of 22 October. Rather, according to information obtained


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from me, the proposals were made public by the officials of the Foreign Office in London.
Cripps tried to defend himself by referring to the embassy’s close connections with the American journalist who published the contents of the British proposals.
But C[omrade] Vyshinsky completely ruled out the possibility that the information had been leaked by the embassy.
Cripps promised to inform the British government about it.
Palewski,
Gaston Palewski, appointed shortly after the meeting with Maisky as director of political affairs of the Free French government.
former head of Reynaud’s Cabinet, came to see me. He told me at length about the degenerate atmosphere in which Reynaud has been living of late and exclaimed in a typically French manner: ‘What could be expected of Reynaud when he had a fifth column in his own bed?’
Palewski meant the famous MADBme de Portes.
I asked Palewski: What, in his view, lies at the root of the French collapse?
He pondered for a moment and said: ‘Hedonism is to be blamed for all that… This generation of Frenchmen was far too fond of pleasure and the good life. They forgot suffering and hated discomfort. That is where it all began.’
I tried, as subtly as I could, to touch upon the social causes of the French catastrophe. Palewski listened attentively, and interrogated me eagerly, but I felt nonetheless that my words failed to reach him.
Palewski praised de Gaulle as an honest and upright soldier. He himself has not joined de Gaulle, however. He renders service to de Gaulle, but does not want to be too closely associated with him.
Palewski recently arrived from Africa and is returning there soon. He promised to call on me should fate bring him back to London.
***
Strange but true: the P[olish] G[overnment] is attempting to establish unofficial contact with us through our consulate. Needless to say, I rebuff all such attempts. What is curious is the direction which Polish thinking seems to be taking: they are prepared to ‘recognize’ Western Ukraine and Western Belorussia as belonging to the USSR, but they want a ‘plebiscite’ to be carried out in Carpathian Russia after the war.
At the same time, the Polish government has drawn up a map of post-war Poland: it must incorporate not only East Prussia, but also the whole German territory along the Stettin–Bohemia line! What an appetite!
More and more bombs are falling near the embassy, and even on it.


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Many explosive and incendiary bombs were dropped in the vicinity of the embassy on the nights of the 14th–15th and 15th–16th. At one point Kensington Gardens looked as if it was brightly illuminated because of the huge number of fire bombs dropped on it. There was a big fire at Queen Victoria’s Kensington Palace, a five-minute walk from the embassy. Two fire bombs fell on the consulate, but they were quickly extinguished. On the night of the 19th–20th, incendiary and explosive bombs rained down once more in the embassy’s neighbourhood. An incendiary bomb fell on our shelter, but it burned out immediately without causing any damage: it left only a small patch of scorched grass. Another incendiary bomb fell near the embassy garage without igniting. In the morning our military people removed the bomb and defused it. Many bombs also fell in the vicinity of the school: glass was smashed and doors torn off their hinges.
Bomb weight is increasing. The bombs dropped on London hitherto have generally weighed 50 or 250 kg. There are none of intermediary size. A small quantity of 500 kg bombs was also dropped. But recently there have appeared many so-called [missing word] that are basically ordinary sea mines weighing up to 1.5 tons. They are dropped by parachute and explode on hitting the surface without entering deep into the ground. Their destructive power is immense. The biggest bombs made craters 15 metres deep. Such bombs even penetrated the Underground, in places where the tunnels lie quite close to the surface. In fact, experts say that only shelters built at a depth of 25 metres are safe.
Kennedy came by to pay a farewell visit. True, formally he is leaving for ‘consultations’ with Roosevelt, but he did not conceal the fact that he will not be returning.
Needless to say, we spoke about the war and about the prospects for England. Kennedy is still a ‘pessimist’: of course, the threat of an invasion has passed, but what will happen in Egypt? Judging by the US ambassador’s reliable and very accurate information, defeat looms for the English there.
I replied that although I have no grounds to be an Anglophile, in my duties as ambassador I try to be ‘objective’ and weigh every ‘for’ and ‘against’ dispassionately, in order to provide my government with correct information. Taking this approach to the question of war in Egypt, I must repeat what I said about the invasion in June: the British have enough cards in their hands to preserve their position in Egypt and in the Near East in general – everything depends on whether they manage to play their cards well. I can’t say whether they will or not, but the conduct of the English when faced with possible invasion inclines me to think they will probably be able to play their cards well in Egypt, too. But time will tell.
I asked Kennedy what he thought about the possibility of the United States entering the war.


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Kennedy ducked the question, saying he had not been to his homeland for a long time and was not aware of the sentiments prevailing there. He personally thinks that the United States should not enter the war and that direct US participation in military operations would be less advantageous to the British than US non-interference. Then Kennedy said, as though in self-justification: ‘I’ve never advocated appeasement as a matter of principle. Everything I said could be summed up in the following way: if the British government has succeeded through its policies in dispersing all its friends, both former and potential, then it’s senseless for it to risk a war.’
Taking his leave, Kennedy exclaimed with his loud, braying laugh: ‘It’s easy to be an American ambassador here in England, but devilishly difficult to be a Soviet one! But by God, you cope with your job superbly.’
I thanked Kennedy for his compliment (he likes to shower compliments left, right and centre) but I could not return it even out of courtesy. For although it is indeed easy to be an American ambassador in England, Kennedy has not been up to the job at all. Roosevelt, Churchill and the English political world – all are dissatisfied with him.


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Halifax entered in his diary: ‘In the afternoon I saw Joe Kennedy, who told me he had decided to chuck up his job the week after next, and seemed in very bad temper with his own Administration. I don’t think he is a very good fellow’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.6, 10 Oct. 1940.
That is the cause of his dismissal, not his desire to return to his ‘business affairs’, as he told me today. At the bottom of it all lies the fact that Kennedy is a wealthy, orthodox Irish Catholic who has a mortal terror of revolution and would like to live in harmony with ‘fascist dictators’. That explains his dislike of the Soviet Union, his liking of Chamberlain, whom he has always supported, and his fear of a war which may, under certain circumstances, unleash revolutionary potentialities.
C[omrade] Molotov’s visit to Berlin has made a big splash in England.
At first, everyone got terribly frightened. The Germans were inflating the importance of the visit and predicting a decision of ‘world-historical’ significance. They let it be known that an exceptionally significant document was in preparation, and hinted at a ‘division of the world’ between the ‘Axis’ and the USSR: Europe would go to Germany, Africa to Italy, China and Eastern Asia to Japan, and India and Iran to the USSR. People in London only half-believed all this, but they got themselves into a state about it all the same. The initial response in political circles was: ‘Look where Halifax has led us! Instead of tearing Russia away from Germany, he made Molotov’s visit to Berlin possible.’
Rumours of Halifax’s imminent dismissal have been doing the rounds again. The News Chronicle and the Daily Herald published sensational reports to this effect: Halifax would leave the FO within a fortnight. This was officially denied, but rumours and speculations continued. Then Halifax decided to go on the attack.
True, the press was advised to go slow on C[omrade] Molotov’s visit and not to provoke the Russians, but the FO press department started a rather vigorous whispering campaign on the morning of 12 November. The sort of campaign


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this was can best be judged from what Rigsdale, chief of the press department, told a journalist of my acquaintance: ‘Three weeks ago Cripps forwarded to the Soviet government British proposals of “paramount importance” alongside which all the Danube and Baltic issues are mere trifles. However, Molotov would not receive Cripps to accept the proposals and went to Berlin without finding time to give Cripps his reply. Obviously, Molotov was too busy with the German ambassador. Molotov’s game-plan is clear: to bring the British proposals to Berlin and show them to Hitler to extract better terms. This whole story definitively clarifies the situation: it is absolutely clear that the Soviet government simply does not want to improve relations, but merely seeks pretexts to maintain relations in their present unsatisfactory condition.’
Naturally enough, the inquisitive journalists wanted to know more about the proposals of ‘paramount importance’. Rigsdale and his staff did not need to be asked twice to share a ‘state secret’. They willingly spilled it first to the British diplomatic correspondents like McDonald (The Times), Werth
Alexander Werth, an American correspondent.
(Manchester Guardian), Ewer (Daily Herald), Lennox (Daily Telegraph) and others. From the 13th onwards, press department officials started to reveal, little by little, the essence of the proposals to foreign correspondents. C. learned about the proposals from them and from other Foreign Office functionaries (most likely Collier or Maclean in the northern department). C. sent two telegrams on the subject to the United States on the evening of the 13th and the morning of the 14th. The censor, namely Rigsdale, allowed the telegrams through. The Domei agency took up the news in New York and spread it round Japan. On the afternoon of the 15th, the proposals were officially announced at a press conference in the press department and were broadcast by the BBC that same evening.
The purpose of this action was clear: Halifax wanted to shift responsibility for the unsatisfactory state of relations to the Soviet government: ‘We are doing all we can to improve relations, but the Soviet government does not reciprocate!’
And by doing so, to divert the danger to himself. Exactly what one could have expected from such a self-seeking foreign secretary.
But since the Soviet government might have taken offence at a unilateral announcement of proposals which had been made to it in confidence, Halifax decided to turn me into the scapegoat.
On the morning of the 16th, Cripps handed the following note to NKID:
You will undoubtedly learn that this morning the BBC broadcast some information concerning the proposals I handed over to be submitted to the Soviet government on 22 October of this year. The reason for this


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broadcast is that a US journalist had already obtained full information concerning the proposals. The source of his information was the Soviet embassy in London. The Domei agency went on to publish this information, having received it from the same source. I greatly regret that your embassy in London made the disclosure, one that is undesirable for His Majesty’s Government. As you could have judged by the form in which I conveyed the proposals to you, His Majesty’s Government was fully aware of the need to preserve confidentiality and avoid the proposals falling into the hands of an unfriendly State.
Cripps was terribly worried about this whole incident. Having fulfilled the British government’s assignment, he sent a sharp telegram to the FO protesting against the disclosure of the proposals through the BBC and accusing the FO of sabotaging his efforts in improving Anglo-Soviet relations.
I also received a letter of inquiry from Moscow and explained what had happened in detail. I insisted on sending a note of reply containing the following:
On 16 November the British ambassador in Moscow handed a note to the NKID informing the Soviet government that the BBC had broadcast some information that morning concerning proposals made to the Soviet government on 22 October. The British ambassador explained the circumstances leading to the disclosure, alleging that a US journalist and the Japanese Domei agency had earlier received full information about the said proposals from the Soviet embassy in London. On behalf of my government I have the honour to state the following: the Soviet government is entirely confident that the Soviet embassy in London did not disclose the British proposals of 22 October. On the contrary, the Soviet government has very serious grounds for believing that the disclosure was made by Foreign Office functionaries in London. In this connection the Soviet government cannot but regret that the British government thought it possible to address the Soviet government with an official note which is founded on unverified information.
Moscow thought this over and decided not to send a note, confining itself to C[omrade] Vyshinsky’s oral protest in his conversation with Cripps on 19 November.
But how very nimble is Halifax! Oh, I do dislike these sanctimonious prigs!
***
The FO press department uses some interesting methods.


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Every day, at 12.30, it holds a press conference. Forty to fifty British and foreign journalists, sometimes more, gather to ask questions (ticklish and delicate questions as often as not) and hear various communications from Rigsdale and his assistants.
Tête-à-tête talks with ‘trusted’ journalists (MacDonald, Ewer, Bartlett, Gordon-Lennox and others) are held in the afternoon. Here information is disclosed ‘off the record’. The ‘trusted’ journalists also have an opportunity to converse with their ‘friends’ in the political divisions of the FO, sometimes even with Butler. These journalists are well briefed; sometimes they are even shown foreign ambassadors’ coded messages. There have been instances when I learned about Moscow démarches first from British journalists and then from NKID.
Under these conditions, leaks are inevitable even if FO officials have no special interest in a particular ‘secret’ being divulged. They are all the more probable when there is such an interest.
Leaks also trickle out of various ministerial offices, where members of government receive copies of all the most important talks, documents, etc. which concern the Foreign Office.
30 November
Agniya and I went to the countryside to visit the young Churchill couple.
Randolph and Pamela Churchill were divorced in 1945, and she later married Averell Harriman, Roosevelt’s personal envoy to Europe and US ambassador to Moscow.
They live in the village of Ickleford, Herts, by the church, in the rectory which has been empty for over half a century. The big house – 15 rooms – is too expensive for the local rector. So the clergymen live in a little cottage nearby, paying a small rent for it. The rectory is rented out to interested parties for 100 pounds a year (the sum has not changed for 50 years – that’s British conservatism for you!) and the rector uses the money to cover his current expenses.
Randolph and his wife are awfully proud of their seven-week-old heir, whom they have called Winston.
A Conservative MP from 1970 to 1983.
They showed us their treasure: a wonderful boy and, for his age, a very sentient being. He somewhat resembles his grandfather. I liked another of the prime minister’s grandsons even more – Julian Sandys,
Edwin Duncan Sandys (Baron Duncan-Sandys), Conservative MP from 1935, was married to Churchill’s daughter Diana. Wounded in action in Norway in 1941, he became a junior minister in his father-in-law’s Cabinet and in various Conservative Cabinets after the war.
a red-haired boy of three, vigorous, agile and cheerful. Sandys married the prime minister’s daughter and his family shares the house with Randolph and his family. The PM’s other daughter, who is unmarried and a film actress, also lives there. On the whole, Ickleford is a ‘Churchill commune’. Randolph will soon


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depart for the Mediterranean. He and his 20-year-old wife were a bit on edge today, maybe because of his forthcoming departure.
Randolph was very talkative. We argued at length about the war prospects. He, of course, could not accept anything other than complete ‘victory’. When I asked him ‘How?’, he started mumbling something incoherent. Randolph’s calculations are based on the following: if England delivers a knock-out blow to Italy next summer, and the United States enters the war after that, German ‘morale’ will crack.
‘What if it doesn’t crack? What then?’ I queried. Then, Randolph thinks, the war will continue for one, two, three, even ten years, until the superior British resources and manpower (including the Empire) eventually produce the desired effect. Childish reasoning!
I expounded my thoughts about a ‘political offensive’ being the sole condition that would permit England ‘to win the war’. Randolph brushed aside my arguments, saying: ‘There will be no such offensive under the present prime minister! My father is not a socialist.’
I asked why the prime minister had agreed to lead the Conservative Party. His position may constrain him in the domestic and external manoeuvring that is inevitable during a war.
Randolph said his father is not afraid of that eventuality. He is confident that he will be the boss, not a hostage, of the Conservative Party. I have serious doubts on this score as well. Well, we shall see.
We also discussed the gravity of the situation at sea. Randolph did not deny its gravity, but he believes the British government will be able to deal with German submarines within the space of a few months. His arguments are as follows. (1) The shipyards have only just started to supply the small vessels (destroyers and others) which his father commissioned at the beginning of the war, when he was first lord of the Admiralty. Winston’s programme was on a major scale and more and more small vessels will be put into service in 1941. (2) There is every reason to expect 50–100 destroyers from the United States. (3) British and US shipyards will be capable of covering the commercial tonnage losses with new construction. (4) The year 1941 will see a great augmentation of the naval air force, which is very important in combating submarines.
There is a good deal of truth in Randolph’s arguments, but much will also depend on the intensity of German warfare in the skies and beneath the seas. We shall see.
1 December
In July Attlee, at Halifax’s request, made a ‘polite’ attempt to persuade Negrín into leaving England: this was Hoare trying to please Franco.
On this episode, see D. Smyth, ‘The politics of asylum, Juan Negrín in 1940’, in R. Langhorne (ed.), Diplomacy and Intelligence during the Second World War (Cambridge, 1985).
Negrín took


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the line: I’m in your hands. If you insist, I have no choice but to leave, but provide me with a visa and passage to the United States. And bear in mind that upon arrival in America I will need to explain to my friends the reasons that forced me out of England. The latter warning scared Attlee and he assured Negrín that the right to sanctuary was unshakable in Great Britain and that he could stay as long as he wished. The FO was less timid and did request an American visa for Negrín. But then came an unexpected hitch: Washington refused Negrín a visa. Matters went no further over the summer. I even thought the British government had finally given up its plan; but I was wrong.
On 8 November, Negrín was invited to see Alexander, first lord of the Admiralty. Halifax was at Alexander’s office as well. Alexander spoke first. With tears in his voice he reminisced about the Spanish war. He spoke of his warm feelings towards the Republicans, and recalled the quantity of money and food which the English cooperative movement dispatched to Barcelona. The old man was deeply moved and ready to cover Negrín in kisses.
With the ground thus prepared, Halifax took the floor and got down to business. He explained that the Germans are now waging a furious anti-British campaign in Spain, that they are eager to draw Franco into the war, and that Negrín’s presence in England is one of their trump cards. The Germans whisper into Franco’s ear that the British are conspiring with Negrín and preparing for the overthrow of Franco and his regime. The conclusion which followed was that, of course, the British government considers the right of sanctuary positively sacred! Naturally, it would never encroach upon Negrín’s will! And yet… Couldn’t Negrín render the British government a great service? Couldn’t he leave England ‘of his own free will’ – oh, of course, ‘entirely of his own his free will’? The British government would be infinitely obliged to him for that.
Negrín replied that, as Halifax must know, he was ready to leave for the States in July, but the US authorities refused him a visa.
Halifax then asked: and what about Negrín leaving for Latin America?
Negrín replied that Latin America did not suit him at the present for various reasons, among which is the following: living in England as an émigré, he can keep silent and refrain from openly discussing current political matters. But if he moves to Latin America, it will be impossible for him to keep silent. He will have to speak and give his assessment of many contemporary events, which might not be favourable to the British government, even though his general position is not to interfere in the war.
This statement confused Halifax and Alexander, and they stopped insisting on Latin America. Halifax suggested instead: ‘And why not go, for example, to New Zealand? You could give a series of interesting lectures there.’


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Negrín said New Zealand was out of the question: how would he be able to justify to the Spanish people his decision, at this crucial historical juncture, to go ten thousand miles away from his homeland?
Halifax and Alexander did not give up, however, and asked Negrín to reconsider their offers. With that, the audience ended.
On 11 November, Negrín sent a long letter in French to Halifax, in which he explained once again the impossibility of his moving to Latin America or New Zealand, but added that if the British government was still insisting on his departure, he would ask them to arrange for him to stay in the United States or, as a last resort, Canada.
On 18 November, Halifax sent Negrín a short reply stating that he would bring the content of Negrín’s letter to the notice of his colleagues, after which he would meet him again. Such a meeting has not yet taken place.
On the 22nd, Dobbie
William Dobbie, trade unionist, first Labour lord mayor of York; Labour MP, 1933–50.
raised the Negrín issue in the House of Commons, and Strabolgi did the same in the House of Lords. Butler and Halifax were the ones to answer. Both, of course, had to tie themselves in knots arguing that they had nothing to do with it. Halifax even went so far as to assert that no conversation about Negrín’s departure had taken place, just a joint discussion about how to counteract German propaganda in Spain.
On 27 November, Dobbie raised the same matter at a meeting of the Labour Parliamentary Group. Attlee, who responded, wriggled like a snake and muddied the issue. Other Labourites spoke, too. Some issued cutting remarks from their seats. It was clear that even this Labour elite was profoundly outraged by the servility of their ministers in this malodorous matter. Attlee and Co. can hardly have failed to understand this. But will they manage to draw the adequate conclusions? May one consider Negrín’s continued residence in England secure?
I don’t know. That’s a question for the future.
2 December
I’ve received some interesting information about British aircraft production.
  Bombers Fighters In total
August 459 549 1767
September 343 480 1440
About 1,700 aircraft in all categories were produced in October. The reduction caused by the air offensive in September was practically eliminated.


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The situation in the third week of October was as follows.
New aircraft output 375
Of which  
Bombers (Blenheim, Wellington, Whitley) 49
Fighters (Spitfire, Hurricane) 80
Other bombers and fighters 70
Training aircraft 114
Naval aircraft 36
Others 11
Released after repair 92
Placed under repair 146
Repaired 238
New engines 541
Repaired engines 295
New anti-aircraft balloons 289
There were 787 aircraft, including 258 bombers and 262 fighters, at aircraft depots as of 18 October.
11 December
The Germans have changed their tactics once again in the air war.
During the first month of the air offensive (8 August–7 September), the Germans mainly attacked the London–Dover–Portland triangle, paving the way for an invasion. Their plan failed.
During the next two months (after 7 September) they attacked London, striving to undermine the morale of the major centre of the British Empire. That failed, too.
Since 14 November, the Germans have been employing new tactics: they have been executing focused air raids against important industrial centres and ports in the provinces (Coventry, Birmingham, Bristol and Southampton). London is also being bombed, but it is not the main target.
Air raids in this recent phase look more or less the same everywhere.
The Germans attack at night, sending several hundred bombers every time (500 to Coventry; 250 to Southampton two nights running, i.e. once again 500; 300 to Birmingham; and 300 to Bristol). First they drop incendiary bombs. When, as a result, fires illuminate the city, explosive bombs of various calibre are dropped and the so-called land mines are parachuted down. Accuracy is rather poor, just as before, because the British anti-aircraft batteries force


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the German machines to fly very high and retreat quickly. However, the mass dropping of bombs onto relatively small areas creates great damage. The centre of the city is usually bombed, and if industrial and other military targets are located there, they are also damaged, but this occurs by chance rather than design. Plants and factories located on the outskirts usually remain intact.
As for the destructive power of the new type of raids, this proves to be directly proportional to the number of bombers per square metre of the area attacked. Here is an example. Coventry, with a population of 175,000, was attacked by 500 bombers and great destruction was caused. To have an equivalent effect while bombing Birmingham (with a population of more than 1 million), the Germans would have had to send 2,500 bombers, but they engaged 300 machines and the damage was relatively small. In order to turn London into Coventry, then, at least 20,000 bombers would have been needed – an obviously fantastical figure, at least for the current phase of the war. That is why I am relatively calm about London.
The question arises: why don’t the Germans throw larger forces into the attack? Why don’t they bomb one and the same city systematically night after night with hundreds of planes? Because they don’t want to or because they can’t?
I have no clear answer to this question as yet.
Neither, it seems, does the British government.
One thing is clear, though: the new type of German air offensive is as incapable of decisively altering the course of the war as the previous one. It does, of course, cause difficulties and complications, but it cannot bring England to its knees. The morale of the population and government remains firm.
It seems to me that the Germans are not setting themselves such a goal at present. They have abandoned the idea of taking the British fortress by storm. They are trying to lay siege to it from the air and from the sea (the sinking of ships has increased sharply of late). Should the Germans manage to weaken England in this way and undermine its morale, they would of course come back to the idea of invading. Will they succeed? I don’t think so. Not in the near future at any rate. We shall see.
12 December
I visited Vansittart today. I hadn’t seen him for several months and I was struck by his appearance: he looks emaciated, much older, and has become very highly strung. The wrinkles on his face are deeper. His hands tremble. Although he is only 59, he is almost an old man. He has a cold. His wife is losing weight and is confined to her bed. In general, his life has not been a bed of roses recently.
Maisky’s unflattering description might have been triggered by a harsh private letter he had received from Vansittart, warning him that ‘an increasing number of complaints are being made against your Embassy for offences against the black-out. I am sure that you personally must be unaware of what is going on, but it is evident that a firm hand on your part is required. I hope you will see to this at once.’ RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1267 l.12, 27 Nov. 1940.


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Nonetheless, Vansittart was in high spirits today: the British are gaining victories in Egypt. He said that since the beginning of the war he had never been as optimistic about the future as he was today. It was patently obvious from what he said that the British government had definitively decided on its course for 1941: to try to crush Italy.
Vansittart spoke eloquently and at length about the misunderstanding and underestimation of the English character abroad. It has been so since time immemorial. Napoleon, Bismarck, the kaiser, and now Hitler, Ribbentrop and Mussolini – they all were and are grossly mistaken in fancying the English to be a ‘nation of shopkeepers’, ‘degenerate gentlemen’, ‘depraved plutocrats’, etc., who cannot and will not fight whatever the circumstances. A profound mistake. True, in peace time the English like comfort, convenience, sport, travelling. They dislike drills, gaudy uniforms, goose-step and spurs. They give the impression of being a deeply ‘civilian’, pampered nation. And a little too much fat has grown on their bones in recent decades.
However, if their backs are against the wall and their lives are endangered, if they are irritated or enraged, they change beyond recognition. They become malicious, stubborn, ready to fight like animals and sink their fangs into the enemy. That is why the English, despite entering every war unprepared, with scarce forces and often with poor leaders, never lose wars. This leads Vansittart to the conclusion that England will defeat Germany in 1942 or 1943.
Such is now the typical philosophy of the ruling class, and not of the ruling class alone.
16 December
I visited Lloyd George at his new office (8, Victoria Road) today. It is in fact his old house, where he now works after moving out of his large and stylish office at Thames House, Embankment. It would seem that the economic repercussions of the war have started affecting even the top echelons of the British ruling classes.
I found the old man in a far from brilliant condition, both in body and morale. He coughed and looked pale and sluggish. His outlook for the future lacked confidence and hope.
Despite the victories in Africa, Lloyd George’s prognosis for the war remains the same: he cannot see how England could defeat Germany. Stalemate, playing out a draw – yes, that’s possible and even probable. But victory? No, the old man still cannot discern the necessary preconditions for victory.
‘Well, if the Soviet Union entered the war on our side,’ exclaimed Lloyd George, ‘that would be a different matter! Then we really could beat Germany.


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But that is out of the question. What’s more, our government, even this government, has done everything in its power to alienate Russia. Sheer madness!’
The old man raised his hands in despair.
There was a call from the prime minister’s office while I was there: Churchill asked him to be at 10, Downing Street by 1 p.m. The old man was clearly agitated by the call.
Why did Churchill need to see Lloyd George? Does he want to appoint him ambassador to Washington?…
Lloyd George spoke with some contempt about Italy. In his opinion, Mussolini’s regime is beginning to crack. Mussolini will not be able to recover from his defeats on his own. Will Hitler help him? Lloyd George doubts it. First of all, how? By sending troops to Greece through Yugoslavia and Bulgaria? Or through Turkey to Egypt? That would be dangerous. It could trigger a quarrel between Hitler and the USSR. One also has to take into account Turkish resistance. Second, what for? Lloyd George has an idea: Hitler has been recently thinking about replacing Italy with France in his ‘Axis’. This is not impossible. Suppose Hitler says to Pétain: I shan’t claim French territories in Europe (except Alsace-Lorraine) and in Africa (except Togo and Cameroon), I shall repatriate 2 million French prisoners, I shall vacate the greater part of occupied France except for the Channel and Atlantic ports, which I need to fight against England, while in exchange you give me a base in Toulon and allow me to use what’s left of the French fleet. Could such a scheme not attract Pétain? Of course it could. Lloyd George interprets the fall of Laval and the appointment of Flandin precisely from this point of view: Laval was ‘pro-Italian’, while Flandin has always been ‘pro-German’. Italian stock is falling, while German shares are on the rise. Hence the change ‘on the throne’.
We’ll see if the old man is right.
I walked home through Kensington Gardens. It was damp and slightly foggy. The park was empty. On the shore of the little lake I observed an almost Biblical scene: a young bespectacled soldier in crumpled, filthy uniform was feeding the swans and gulls. He had a big bag under his arm from which he was taking the crumbs and throwing them to the birds. Three big swans climbed out of the water and, gracefully bending their necks, took the crumbs straight from the soldier’s palm. Hundreds of gulls surrounded the soldier, crying wildly and violently flapping their wings. They rushed about him as if possessed, plucked pieces of bread out of the air, and landed on his shoulders and arms, even on his head. And he, a puny, clumsy and pensive little soldier, peered through his spectacles with a certain surprise at this kingdom of birds, as if wishing to say: ‘Yes, man and nature are one.’


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19 December
The situation at sea becomes more and more serious. Here are the most important relevant facts. The pre-war commercial tonnage of the British Empire amounted to 21 million tons, including 18 million in the mother country. England has added some 9 million tons to this since the beginning of the war (the fleets of the Allies – Norway, Holland, Belgium, Greece, etc., captured enemy vessels, purchased and newly built vessels, etc.). In total: 30 million tons or 44% of world tonnage as it stood in the summer of 1939!
The British losses (including Allies) in the naval war were, on average, 63,000 tons a week, i.e. about 4 million tons for the entire period. The losses have increased considerably in the recent three or four months – up to 100,000 tons weekly. Thus, the yearly estimate is about 5 million tons. That is serious! All the more so as the average distance covered by a vessel has increased compared with peace time, while the average speed has decreased. The first is accountable to the fact that, having lost its near European markets as a result of the war, England has to trade with distant countries. Besides, developments in the Mediterranean have rendered the use of the Suez Canal for commercial traffic more problematic, while the route around Africa is 11 days longer than via the Suez Canal. The second follows from the fact that merchant ships now sail in convoy with escorts (40–50 steamships) and have to move at the speed of the slowest vessel in the convoy.
Where should the reasons for the heavy losses sustained by the British commercial fleet be sought? There are actually three main reasons. First and foremost, England has no more than 300 destroyers and other small vessels to protect its commercial sea traffic, compared with the 900 engaged by the Entente (England, France, Russia, Japan and Italy) in the last war. Admittedly, the theatre of this war at present is somewhat smaller than in 1914–18, but still… Second, the war against the commercial fleet nowadays is carried out not only by submarines (as in the last war), but also by aircraft. Third, the Germans use French Atlantic bases (which they did not have in the 1914–18 war), while the British cannot use Irish bases (as they did 25 years ago).
What measures are the English undertaking and planning to combat all this? There are many. I’ll list the most important ones:
(1) Frenzied construction of small warships. At the beginning of the war, when still lord of the Admiralty, Churchill laid down a major programme of construction. Up to 100 destroyers are nearing completion, and in 1941 small war vessels will come into service almost in ‘conveyor-belt’ fashion. Moreover, 40 cruisers are being built, and five King George V class battleships (35,000 tons, 35 knots, 11 guns of 14-inch calibre) will be completed soon. More battleships will enter service in 1941 (one already has). Further down the


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line, it is expected that the United States will deliver another batch of ‘dated’ destroyers in 1941 (50–100 are the numbers being bandied about). Other forms of US naval aid are being discussed, such as US convoys to ‘neutral’ Ireland, the guarding of the western part of the Atlantic by US forces, etc. The quantity of naval aircraft, which are very important in combating German submarines, is also growing rapidly.
(2) The question of using Irish bases is being seriously considered – through an agreement, if possible (such plans rely on the US exerting pressure) or by military occupation if it proves unavoidable.
(3) Large-scale development of commercial shipbuilding in England. One can count on 1.5 million tons a year (the peak in 1929 was about that sum). Shipbuilding in the United States is being promoted in every possible way. Sixty steamers have been commissioned in the USA (10,000 tons each, 10–12 knots) to be delivered in the spring of 1942. But the British government has even more far-reaching plans. It proposes to restore the Hog Island shipyard, where one standard vessel of 5–6 tons was produced daily during the last war. The British government counts on receiving an annual tonnage of up to 3 million from the USA.
(4) Measures have been taken to decrease imports by developing local agricultural production (though their effects will not really be felt in 1941), as well as by rationing more and more foodstuffs and other products.
(5) Great hopes are placed on the defeat of Italy in the near future – then, at any rate, at least half of the fleet engaged in the Mediterranean today could be moved to the Atlantic to combat German submarines.
So what are the prospects?
The situation now is undoubtedly serious. It resembles the situation at the beginning of 1917. However, the British government has enough cards to play. Will it play them well? We shall see. I don’t have any great confidence in the abilities of the British to fight successfully on land, but they are past masters of naval warfare.
27 December
During the September air offensive Dutch Queen Wilhelmina
Helena Pauline Maria Wilhelmina, queen of the Netherlands, 1890–1948, she sought refuge in the United Kingdom following the German occupation of the Netherlands in 1940.
was taking refuge quite democratically in the common ‘shelter’ at Claridge’s Hotel, where she lived at that time. She slept together with other people in the shelter (having only one lady-in-waiting), and snored loudly. A lady who had just arrived at Claridge’s and did not know the queen by sight came to the shelter for the night.


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Wilhelmina’s snoring disturbed her terribly. When she could not bear it any longer, she snapped at the maid of honour (whom she did not know either): ‘Stop her, for goodness sake! It’s a sheer disgrace to snore like that!’
The lady-in-waiting told her the name of the snoring old woman. The infuriated lady took fright and ran out.
28 December
The significance of the Irish question is becoming ever more acute.
The Germans operate at sea against British commercial ships from French Atlantic bases. The British government is deprived in this war of the possibility of using Irish bases (Kingstown, Cork and others) to combat German submarines. Chamberlain ceded the bases to the government of Eire in 1938. This creates advantages for Germany and problems for England such as neither had in the last war. The more serious the situation at sea becomes, the more the British dream of using the Irish bases. De Valera is categorically against it: Eire adheres to a policy of neutrality, and there are still German and Italian missions working in Dublin.
Recently, another accusation has been levelled against Eire. The British claim to have proof that German submarines take on fuel in western Irish harbours. This may be a British fib to set the ‘mood’ prior to a possible occupation of Eire. But there may also be a grain of truth in it: there are elements in Ireland prepared to do anything to spite England. One cannot exclude the possibility that de Valera or his associates may turn a blind eye to suspicious machinations on the part of the German mission in Dublin.
Be that as it may, ‘Irish complications’ are in the air. There can be little doubt that the British government would occupy Eire, or at least its bases, were it not apprehensive of an adverse response in the United States. But who can tell? Maybe the British government will be able to create circumstances in which the USA would manage to swallow this pill.
29 December
To Churt to see Lloyd George. I found the old man lucid, vigorous and in good spirits. An astonishing individual: after all, he will be 78 in three weeks!
Lloyd George related to me the particulars of Churchill’s proposal to appoint him ambassador in Washington. On 16 December, the PM invited him to lunch and made his proposal (I recall how, while I was talking to Lloyd George in his office, Sylvester hurried into the room and whispered to the old man that there had been a call from 10, Downing Street asking him to be there by 1 p.m.).
But Lloyd George refused the offer. Why?


Page 958

‘To start with,’ the old man explained, ‘an ambassador has no control over the policy he must represent. I don’t want to find myself in such a position. That’s the main thing. Secondly, the post in Washington would be beyond me, physically speaking. Poor Lothian, during his last visit to London, complained bitterly that he had turned into a talking machine…’
‘Even though he liked to speak,’ I interjected.
‘Yes, despite the fact that he liked to talk,’ Lloyd George agreed with a laugh. ‘He would begin talking at eight in the morning and stopped only after midnight. Americans are quite unique. They are exceptionally talkative. Before taking any step, they will drown you in a sea of words. And every one of them wants to talk to the ambassador himself. Senator such and such… Banker such and such… Mayor such and such… I know what they’re like! Just try not seeing one and you’ll have yourself an enemy: “Hm… The ambassador is too busy? Well! Well!…” Then you can expect all sorts of unpleasantness. But it’s beyond anyone’s strength to see them all.’
Lloyd George burst into laughter and added: ‘Well, the political result is positive: Eden is in the Foreign Office and Halifax goes to America. Strangely, he did not want to go and Lady Halifax was simply furious. The Court did not like it either: Lady Halifax, as I’m sure you know, is one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. But Churchill dug in and got his way.’
Lloyd George lunched with the prime minister again on 20 December. They discussed matters of war and politics.
I asked Lloyd George about Churchill’s present attitude to the Soviet Union. Lloyd George replied that in general the PM is in favour of improving Anglo-Soviet relations and will support Eden in that respect, but he is hardly prepared to go as far as Eden. For Churchill would like to ‘win the war’ without Soviet aid, so as not to have any obligations towards the Soviet Union. Besides, he counts on receiving active support from the United States.
Then we spoke about the government’s situation. Lloyd George says that Churchill’s position is very secure, but quite a few of his ministers are ‘a disappointment’. Bevin is one of them.
‘On the whole,’ Lloyd George resumed, ‘we have a good old Tory government, even though there are several Labourites in it, who are sometimes more conservative than the Conservatives themselves.’
The old man burst into infectious laughter and added: ‘They genuinely believe that they can win the war by military means alone. True capitalist idiocy!’
I asked what Lloyd George himself thought of the war. His reply boiled down to the following: Lloyd George does not believe it possible for England to ‘win the war’ solely by force of arms. It will take at least two years to arm and


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train an army of 4 million (the most England can expect). It is a colossal task. To illustrate its grandiosity, Lloyd George gave just one example: in the last war, the English army expended 75 million shells in the Battle of Passchendaele alone!… The United States will hardly enter the war, certainly not in the near future, and if it does, the USA will also have to arm and train its army for a few years. In contrast, Germany has a well-armed and well-trained army of 8 million and, in addition, a general staff which far surpasses that of the British and the Americans. How can one hope of victory through military action alone?
England can achieve a true ‘victory’ only if the military offensive is backed up by a political offensive and even overshadowed by it at a certain point; that is, if England can, like a snake, cast off its capitalist skin in the course of the war and become an essentially socialist state.
I tried to clarify what Lloyd George meant by the little word essentially, but it was impossible to get a lucid explanation from him. I don’t think I would be the only person to be perplexed by his notion of ‘socialism’. Immediately after he made that statement, Lloyd George poured ridicule on the government for its dreams of Mussolini’s regime being replaced by that of Grandi. When I asked him what he himself was expecting in the event of Mussolini falling, Lloyd George replied somewhat vaguely: ‘A left-wing government of course… Socialists, radicals, communists, left “popolari”…’
Be that as it may, the old man is very sceptical, and not without reason, about the British government’s readiness ‘to cast off the capitalist skin’. So what can be expected?
Lloyd George thinks Hitler must try, at all costs, to ‘resolve’ the war in 1941. He will hardly succeed, however, as England has become much stronger in the air and at sea over the last six months and invasion has become a far less realistic proposition. One may expect, therefore, that next year’s ‘trial of strength’ will not prove decisive. In consequence, a situation conducive to the opening of peace negotiations may take shape next autumn or winter. That is when the Soviet Union and the United States could play a major role as mediators and builders of the future world.
‘So you really think,’ I asked, ‘that the war will most probably end in a draw?’
‘Looks like it,’ was Lloyd George’s reply. ‘But I think it is premature to start talking about peace today. I refuse categorically to associate my name with the efforts of some “appeasers” who want immediate peace talks. No, it’s too early. Germany would charge a price which England would never pay. Germany first needs to be tired out, exhausted, and taken down a peg, then we can talk about peace… But a repeat of Versailles must be avoided at all costs!’
The old man thought for a moment and added: ‘If peace is not achieved next winter, then I foresee an endless war of attrition… Yes, an endless war of attrition that will leave nothing of our civilization’.


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[Though Maisky did ‘not expect miracles’, Eden’s return to the Foreign Office on Christmas Eve raised new expectations. There was, as he wrote to Eden, ‘a lot of debris to be cleared away, and the sooner it is started so much the better’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 l.18, Maisky to Eden, 23 Dec. 1940.
Shortly after the holidays, Maisky paid a visit to the Foreign Office, to find Eden beaming with excitement. The gloom which had pervaded Halifax’s office had been replaced by a bright and orderly atmosphere. Eden projected the image of a triumphant return. He wished to convince Maisky that no major conflict of interest in foreign policy existed between the two countries. The ambassador did not beat about the bush, explaining to Eden that only British recognition of the Soviet absorption of the Baltic States could lead to an improvement in relations. Soon enough it became obvious that the change in scenery did not entail a change in policy. Like those of his predecessor, Eden’s interests remained tactical, aimed at detaching Russia from Germany. However, Maisky, who was eager to exploit the change, deviated from the canon, admitting to Eden that Russia certainly did not wish to see Germany emerge as the victorious power in Europe. Soviet foreign policy, he explained succinctly, rested on three principles: ‘First, they were concerned with promoting their own national interests. Secondly, his Government wished to remain out of the war. Thirdly, they wished to avoid the extension of the war to any countries neighbouring Russia. In general Soviet policy was not expansionist: the Soviets had already enough territories.’
Maisky certainly did his utmost to convince his superiors at home that the change was significant.


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TNA FO 371 N7548/40/38 and AVP RF f.069 op.24 p.70 d.43 ll.132–7.
]
30 December
Focused air raids have arrived, at last, in London, or more precisely its centre – the City.
On the night of the 29th, between 7 and 10 p.m., about 150 German bombers showered the City with fire bombs. The German planes are said to have dropped tens of thousands of bombs. As the City is empty at night (its daytime population is 500,000, but only 20,000 at night), there were no people there to deal with the bombs. The flames spread to a great many buildings and streets before the fire-fighters arrived. It was a terrible and beautiful spectacle. In the east, half the sky was aglow as we watched from the embassy. The City burned all night and throughout the day today. Even now, the fires have not been completely extinguished.
Usually, a shower of fire bombs is followed by a shower of explosive bombs. This time, however, there were only fire bombs. The English are sure that this was a result of a change in the weather which did not allow the second wave of bombers, carrying the explosive bombs, to take off from their airfields. I don’t know if this is true, but it’s a fact that there were no explosive bombs yesterday.
But even without them, the destruction in the City is immense. True, the Bank of England and the Stock Exchange have remained intact (how symbolic!), but the famous Guildhall has been reduced to ashes, and nearly a dozen ancient churches (the works of Wren) of great historical and architectural value have been destroyed. Many offices, stores, small shops, etc. are wrecked. All Moorgate Street, where our trade mission was located before 1927, lies in ruins and has been closed. As for ‘military targets’, only the Central Telegraph, located in the City, has suffered badly, while the Waterloo Bridge has been lightly damaged. Few human casualties.
This time, not only anti-aircraft guns operated on the English side, but also night fighters.
***
I was told the other day that the Germans have special radio stations in Frankfurt on Main and in Brest, which during night raids direct their beam at the centre of the city under attack. The beams cross directly over the central part of the city. The German bombers equipped with special receivers take their bearings by those beams. When they reach the crossing point, they drop their bombs.
This sounds right. All the recent air raids seem to confirm this explanation. It also explains why it is usually the centre of the city that is hit.
***
Sheffield and Manchester were also attacked at night. The results are grave. The central parts of both cities are in ruins. The famous Free Trade Hall in Manchester has burned to the ground. Chartists used to gather there in their day and the People’s Convention organized by the Communist Party was to be held there on 12 January.
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Document TitleThe Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2
AuthorGorodetsky, Gabriel
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AOC VolumeThe Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2
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