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.

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.

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 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.

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.’

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.

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.

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?

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?’

‘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 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.

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 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.

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. 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.

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 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.

]

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.

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!

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.

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.

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 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.’

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.

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 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!

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 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.

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 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 to summon the fire brigade after a fire and allow the police inside the embassy building. The same could happen to the trade mission.

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.

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!’

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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, 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 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.

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.

‘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.

(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-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 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 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.

‘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, 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.’

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. 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 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.

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.

]

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

Page 963

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.

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.

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!’

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.

Considering that the audience consisted almost entirely of business men – industrialists, engineers, bankers, etc. – such a reaction is most significant.

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 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.

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. 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.

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 (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.

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 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’.

‘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 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.

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 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.

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.

]

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.’

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.

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 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.

]

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, 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 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.

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 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 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 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.]

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.

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, 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).

]

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 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.

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?

I replied to Hoare in much the same spirit as I did to Halifax yesterday.

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…

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.

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 never flown before. Let’s try. It’s high time I got used to the most modern means of transport.

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.

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.

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.

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.]

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 through me, of its sincere wish to work together with us on the establishment of a peace front.

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.

(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.

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. 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, 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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.

‘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.

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 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 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).

Page 967

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.]

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 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.

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.

]

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.

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.

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 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: 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.

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.’

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.’

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.

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.

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.]

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 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.

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 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.

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.’

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.’

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.

]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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 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?

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. 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.

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 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.’

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.

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 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 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.

Page 970

TNA FO 371 23066 C7591/3356/18, 22 May 1939; Self, Chamberlain Diary Letters, IV, pp. 418–19.

]

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 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.

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.

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 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 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.’

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

]

Halifax made three comments concerning the Soviet proposals of 2 June:

(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.

]

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 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.

…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?

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.

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.

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 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?

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.

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.

‘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!’

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.’

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.’

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.

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 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. 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.

]

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

]

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.

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.

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…

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 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.

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 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, 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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

On my way home, I couldn’t help smiling at history’s mischievous sense of humour.

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.

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.

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 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).

]

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.

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-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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

]

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 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.

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.

Page 974

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.

]

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 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 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.

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.

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.

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, 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?…

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.’

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.

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.

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.

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.

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’?

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. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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?…

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 Croats, and emphasized that Yugoslavia wished to remain neutral whatever the circumstances.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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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.

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?’

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?…

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.

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. 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.

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.

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, 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?…

(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.

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 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.

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 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.

(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.

‘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’ 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.

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.

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. 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!

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 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.

]

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 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.

‘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.

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.’

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, 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 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 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?

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.

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 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.

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.

‘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.

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.

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.

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 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 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 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.

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, 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.’

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’.

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.

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 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 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.

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.

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.’

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 ‘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.

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.

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 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 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.

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.

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.’

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 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!…

‘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, 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.

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.

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?’

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.

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.

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.

‘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 (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.

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.

An interesting comparison. I had the impression that Lelong was speaking quite sincerely.

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.

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 have had to celebrate this immense, incomparable anniversary far from my homeland. I hope this is my last October abroad.

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 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.

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…

Cripps was greatly discouraged when he left.

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.’

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.’

‘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.’

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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].

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 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.

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 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.

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.

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 civil war the West should support counter-revolutionaries and the East support the revolution, Czechoslovakia will certainly be on the side of the East.’

(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.’

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.

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?’

‘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 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, 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.

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.

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. 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 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.

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 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, 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.

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?

The British have reacted with fury. The press, the radio, the cinema, parliament – everything has been mobilized. Chamberlain, Attlee, Dalton, 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.

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 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.

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:

Second, on the previous day, 4 December, the paper’s columnist devoted half a column to me and the current situation.

All these people have not the slightest notion of dialectics!

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 (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.

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!

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 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’.

The whole meeting was devoted to matters concerning supplies to the armed forces. No other subjects (including the USSR) were discussed. The 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.

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, 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!

(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 side, or both), we shall face a period of further deterioration in Anglo-Soviet relations, in which even a rupture is possible.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

]

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 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 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, 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 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 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.

‘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.’

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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 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.

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, “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.

]

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 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.

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).

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 is a careerist and he won’t want to ruin his future for good. They’ll come to an arrangement somehow.

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 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’.

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 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.

]

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 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 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.

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 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.

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!

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 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.

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?!

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).

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.

(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 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.

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 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.

And our response:

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.

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 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 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

]

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!

***

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

This is just the beginning.

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?’

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 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–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.

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. 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.

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?

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 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 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.

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 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?…

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, 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.

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. 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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

The first reports about our peace negotiations with the Finns have already begun to have a ‘demoralizing influence’ on Labour. To accelerate the process, 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, 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.

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 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.

(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.

(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 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.

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 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’.

Page 980

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

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.

]

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’.

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.

‘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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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’.

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.

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 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.

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 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:

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.

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 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.)

Shaw paused and then continued:

Shaw paused again before adding:

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:

Shaw roared with laughter. ‘Hyndman had an interesting life,’ he continued.

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 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.

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. 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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.’

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.

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 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.

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 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!

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 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.

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.).

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!

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.

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 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 ambassador in China, whom he found to be a progressive fellow with a friendly attitude towards the USSR.

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.

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.

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 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.

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 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.

How did it happen?

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

The House presented a very curious spectacle yesterday and today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Very possibly,’ I agreed.

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 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 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 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.

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.

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 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, 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.’

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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!

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.

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.

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…

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!

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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?…

(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 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.’

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-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.

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 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 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 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 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.

]

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.

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 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 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.’

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 Soviet 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’.

Page 982

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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?

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.

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.