On 30 August 1947 Anthony Eden, in a speech at Carnoustie, referred scathingly to the ‘internal differences as well as foolish complacency’ of the government.1 Such attacks always make for good politics, but Eden’s attack had an eerie truth: things had gone well for the Labour government in 1945 and 1946; arguably, with a huge majority in the House of Commons, they had gone too easily; it would not have been surprising if there was a certain self-satisfaction among Cabinet ministers.

The year was, in retrospect, a watershed for Attlee and his government. It brought a fuel shortage during a savage winter; it brought a financial crisis, an attempt to remove Attlee from the party leadership, and, by the end of the year, after a Cabinet reshuffle, it established austerity as the continuing theme of British life. As one writer put it neatly, in 1945 ‘Labour sensed that it had a rendezvous with destiny; in 1947 it became aware that history is one damned thing after another’.2

Throughout the latter half of 1946 Attlee had spoken to the same theme: things had improved but there was still a period of sacrifice before wartime rationing could be removed. This thread permeated his speeches during November. There were shortages, especially in relation to the building industry and all manufacturing. There was a need to boost exports; we could not hope for spectacular improvement, but needed to soldier on. There were worldwide shortages which particularly affected the UK because of abnormally high demand and curtailed supplies caused by production difficulties and a serious shortfall in imports. He gave as examples items like prams and fountain pens which, if industries were given all the necessary materials, there would be no need to import. Despite these problems, there was no serious industrial unrest – a very different situation from 1919–20. All basic foodstuffs – grains, fats and meat – were in short supply. Bread rationing had been prolonged by shipping strikes in the USA which delayed delivery, and by bad weather that had damaged the British harvest.3

There was an additional drain on the country’s resources – the need to feed the population of occupied Germany. The Manchester Guardian was scathing in its criticism of the distribution of food, chiding the government that ‘the prospects of maintaining our name as efficient and humane rulers are vanishing.’ At a time when Britons were suffering serious privation the issue of feeding a defeated nation was divisive; a group of churchmen and public figures sent a petition to Attlee, demanding that the Germans be fed as well as the British. ‘If thine enemy hunger, feed him’, the Reverend Prebendary P. T. R. Kirk of the Industrial Christian Fellowship reminded the government.4

Demobilisation, moreover, continued to be an issue after fifteen months of peace. In several speeches in the last months of 1946 Attlee undertook to maintain the promised rate of release. In November he spoke in the House and reiterated that the rate of release planned for the first six months of 1947 was the maximum that could be expected. The progress in concluding peace treaties was much slower than he had hoped.5

In early summer 1946 Jay had warned Attlee that coal reserves were dangerously low and that Shinwell’s confidence in being able to meet winter demand was misplaced.6 Coal stocks, moreover, would be at their lowest at the very point that the National Coal Board took control of the industry. Attlee promptly sent a message to George Isaacs, Minister of Labour, stressing the need to build up stocks. ‘Great difficulties will have to be overcome’, he warned, ‘if a serious shortage next winter is to be averted.’ To Dalton he stressed the importance of building up stocks, referring to this as ‘now the most urgent economic problem’.7

An accelerated rate of demobilisation created an increasing number of consumers and increased demand for power. Attlee continued to be concerned about stock levels; he recognised that it would be ‘touch and go’ unless Britain enjoyed a mild winter. Reassured by Shinwell that stocks were adequate and that production could be stepped up if necessary, Attlee remained doubtful but uninvolved. Shinwell was described by Gaitskell as ‘a good speaker of the platform type – at his best when he prepares nothing’.8 In a situation where Shinwell needed to be certain of his facts and to trust less to his ability to improvise, his reliance on the extempore was dangerous – doubly dangerous in an industry that had been so recently nationalised.

In the event, 1947 brought a winter of legendary bitterness. At the end of January a massive blizzard swept the country and the inadequacy of stocks was rapidly revealed. Power stations closed and rationing of power was introduced for private users. For a three-week period more than two million were put out of work. The government appeared ill informed and, after Shinwell’s comment of October 1946 that ‘everyone knows there is going to be a crisis in the coal industry – except the Minister of Fuel and Power’,9 simply negligent. Attlee’s appeal to the nation, broadcast on 11 February, alerted his listeners to ‘a situation of the utmost gravity’ and repeated the familiar hope that ‘you will all do your bit as you did in the war in other emergencies’.10 Despite grave discomfort for eight weeks, the crisis passed without undue damage to the government.

Eighteen months had passed since the end of the war. The British public had accepted shortages in wartime, had accepted stoically that these would continue for a period, but the climate of austerity was becoming oppressive. Soon after the 1945 election, as the Attlees were preparing to move into 10 Downing Street, the new Prime Minister wrote to Tom that ‘we are still in the honeymoon period of a government and many people have been very kind to me but no doubt storms will come soon’.11 He was over-pessimistic, it turned out, as Labour’s appeal to the electorate remained strong. The mood of the electorate was congruent with Labour’s aims: ‘the wartime ethos that had brought Beveridge, full employment, social planning, and the idea of “fair shares”.’12 Labour continued to do well at by-elections and borough elections, maintaining a solid lead over the Tories in opinion polls.

Ironically, Attlee was less busy as Prime Minister than he had been from 1942 to 1945 and he was able to spend a further ten days at Chequers over Christmas.13 Eden was, perhaps, playing politics when he accused the government of ‘complacency’, but there was certainly no hint of the succession of crises that was to beleaguer Attlee and his Cabinet in the New Year.

No one could have foreseen the scale of the storm that struck Britain at the end of January 1947, bringing the worst winter weather in memory. For eight weeks Britain suffered from a disastrous combination of weather and the results of shoddy planning. Bread rationing had damaged morale, giving Conservatives the taunt of ‘Starve with Strachey’. Now ‘Shiver with Shinwell’ was added. ‘It was not only Conservative politicians who were critical of the government. King George VI confided to his diary that he had asked Attlee three times if he was worried about the situation. He confessed that, even if Attlee was not, he was.’14

Within the Cabinet too there was serious concern for the first time. On 20 January Dalton wrote to Attlee that he, Morrison, Cripps and Isaacs had compiled the report on economic planning, which was treated by the Cabinet without the attention due to it. He had already stated, he said, that the money demanded by the Minister of Defence was not available. ‘We are, I am afraid, drifting in a state of semi-consciousness towards the rapids.’15 Looking back on this period later, Dalton recorded that the fuel crisis was ‘certainly the first really heavy blow to confidence in the government and in our post-war plans … Never glad, confident morning again.’16

Dalton, more than Attlee and more than any minister except Bevin, was the face of socialist confidence. He ‘seemed to epitomise a radical government, confident in its priorities, at peace with itself and a wider world.’17 A product of Eton and King’s College, Cambridge with connections to the royal family, the ebullient Dalton radiated the confidence of privilege and was more visible than the retiring Attlee. As July and the date for convertibility of sterling drew closer, Dalton raged against the expenditures forced on the government by its commitments. Alexander’s soldiers, Bevin’s Germans – all became objects of the Chancellor’s resentment. Faced by increasing criticism, principally of his economic policy, it was Dalton, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, whose star most waned.

Attlee continued to urge restraint and insist on ‘fair dos for all’. In a speech to Yorkshire miners he described his principles most clearly. The aims of the Labour Party, he said, were to improve the standard of living for everyone. But all must hold fast to the moral principles on which the movement has been founded. Rights entail obligations. No one can carry on without depending on other members of the community.18

It was a message that he repeated frequently – and a principle by which he lived. While Cripps was the public face of austerity, Attlee was the greatest puritan in the Cabinet. Chequers was always cold in winter as he kept the heating low and, according to Sheila McNeil, the Attlees’ sherry glasses were the smallest she had ever seen.19 The antithesis of the swashbuckling Churchill whose enormous Havana cigars added to his wartime persona, Attlee was studiously economical in both official and personal expenditure.

On 30 May, planning a rail trip to Durham, he discovered that the cost would be £55, of which staff and meals accounted for £22. Attlee told the Ministry of Transport that he required no special staff or special services to be provided when he travelled by train. No special meals, just a cup of tea brought to his carriage, which should be a normal carriage. If that was not possible, he said, he was quite capable of walking to the restaurant car. He would like a cup of tea in the morning, but not if it required a special attendant. This created difficulties with the railway company, who did not want the Prime Minister to be compelled to walk along the corridor of a moving train. The exchange became absurdly complex and much time was consumed in keeping things ‘simple’. After four days of memoranda to and fro, the matter was resolved on 4 June to Attlee’s satisfaction.20

On at least one occasion, however, he did make certain allowances for notables. In June Field Marshal Montgomery, the new CIGS, wrote, requesting his help in obtaining a licence to convert a Hampshire mill to a house at a cost of £6,000. He had already written to Bevan, who turned down the request. He pointed out that, although he was able to use a flat in London when he was there in his capacity as CIGS, he was, in fact, homeless, apart from his caravans. He commented that ‘having led the Armies of the Empire to victory in the war, it is not suitable that I should have to go on living a caravan life.’21

Bevan maintained that it was a matter for the local authority and that, if he intervened, it would do no one any good. He suggested that Montgomery wait ‘until the edge has been taken off the housing shortage a little further’. After Attlee’s intervention Bevan permitted Montgomery to proceed, provided that he spend no more than £1,500 as an initial outlay and that the balance of building be paid for in stages.22

The principal fear of the government’s critics was that the oft-repeated mantra of austerity and short-term sacrifice, while well-intentioned, was inadequate to overcome the balance of payments shortfall and the steady outflow of dollars. In April Churchill attacked the government for living on the American dole. Attlee defused the attack, demanding what Churchill would do in his place. Moreover, he argued, the Opposition leader’s attitude was ‘dead and damned’ and Churchill’s posture was damaging to his party.23

Churchill’s sources within the Treasury were reliable and his attack echoed the thoughts of Otto Clarke, a Treasury official and author of the ‘Economic Survey for 1947’. Clarke recorded in his diary that Dalton was not trying, and that Shinwell was ‘in a state of hopeless fog’. Attlee, he wrote, had ‘not an ounce of will to govern or ability to control the situation.’ Not one of them had ‘the shadowiest concept of what they meant by planning’.24

In May, Attlee created a Cabinet committee (GEN/179; Attlee, Morrison, Bevin, Dalton and Cripps) to handle the worsening economic situation. At its first meeting the ministers considered a Treasury memorandum pointing out that prices in the USA had risen by enough to justify an additional loan of £1,000 million, and recommending cutting imports by £200 million in 1947–48.25 A cut in imports would entail a cut in rations and the Minister for Food was concerned that ‘the present diet of our people is generally considered inadequate’.26 Not only physiologically but also psychologically inadequate, as it was monotonous and dull. ‘There is a growing dissatisfaction’, Strachey wrote, ‘with a food situation which, two years after the war, deteriorates rather than improves.’ At one point the banality of the Cabinet’s concerns was characterised by the statement that there was ‘no United States dried fruit at all … this would have the worst effects on all cake and bun making, as well as on the housewife.’27

Banality was compounded by shortages of beer in West Yorkshire, caused by inadequate stocks of coal.28 While Attlee was planning grand initiatives – independence for India, consolidating the Atlantic alliance – the working man was denied beer and his wife had no currants for her buns – the subject of a Cabinet memorandum.

Within the Labour Party, too, concern was building concerning Attlee’s leadership style. Morrison, always to be relied on to project himself as a leader, presented a paper to the Cabinet in which he emphasised the need to create new sources of supply.29 ‘We are in danger of making the worst of both planning and laissez faire worlds’, he wrote, ‘if we leave the expansion of overseas supplies too much to the self-interest of producers who have little incentive in present conditions and are up against heavy odds.’ The message was clear: the government was barren of ideas; Morrison alone could think outside the box and produce inspiring leadership. Attlee allowed the initiative to wither and die.

As the date of convertibility approached the Cabinet considered a range of measures to solve the balance of payments crisis. Dalton warned that American credit would be exhausted by the end of the year30 and every possible form of economy was considered. Even the banning of importation of American films was urged by Cripps31 and, amazingly, the Cabinet discounted any negative effect on public morale.32 At a time when the meat ration was to be cut to less than a shilling a week and cuts were increasingly resented, the public was to be denied even the pleasures of escapism. Two days later the Cabinet discussed how they might avoid making any public announcement at all.33

When the magic date of 15 July arrived, within a week the flight of currency from Britain was a cause for alarm. Durbin, PPS to Dalton,34 wrote to Attlee to warn him of a severe balance of payments crisis. Of the American loan $1,000 million had been spent in eighteen months and at the present rate, he warned, Britain would rapidly run out of dollars. It would be folly to rely on more American aid. The government needed to reduce its dollar expenditure on the diplomatic and military accounts, implement cuts in the import programme, and re-allocate coal, steel and manpower to assist the export industries.35

In the same week nineteen left-leaning backbenchers36 wrote to Attlee to express their concerns about cuts in imports, cuts in foreign commitments, positive measures for expanding production and trade, possible cuts to the housing programme, the need to expand overseas trade if Marshall Aid37 did not materialise, the need for a heavy tax on capital gains and the need for a profits tax that encouraged distribution of profits.38 Ten days later Attlee received a document signed by 116 Labour MPs, asking him to scotch rumours that the government was weakening in its resolve to carry through the nationalisation of the steel industry.39

Attlee had foreseen difficulties within the party as conflicting claims built up and appropriated slender resources. During July, therefore, he canvassed opinions from MPs conversant with swings of opinion, who would report these honestly. In early August he received two responses from two very different Members.

Sir Hartley Shawcross felt that there was resentment of austerity, principally because the burdens of the current situation were not being evenly shared. There was no restriction on luxury foods, such as pineapples. Sporting events for the lower classes were being limited, whereas events such as Goodwood were going on as normal. Morale would be greatly restored if those who could afford restaurant meals were to sacrifice some of their points. Another source of resentment, he said, was felt by those living alone or without children. There was no immediate solution to this problem, but, if there were to be cuts in food, could such people be treated preferentially?40

Tom Driberg, Member for Maldon, sent similar advice that ranged over a number of issues. Certainly ‘fair dos’ and what he called ‘symbolic socialist gestures’ were important. For example, the royal wedding should be picturesque but not too lavish, and Princess Elizabeth’s husband should live on his pay, not on the Civil List. There should also be attacks on luxury restaurants and ‘Riviera idlers’. Above all, Attlee should be bold in his proposals. He should scorn any proposal for a coalition – an idea that was being discussed within the party – and should outline a bold and coherent socialist plan.41

Matters came to a head at a Cabinet meeting in late July.42 Attlee stated the two objectives involved in resolving this crisis: to preserve the standard of life in Britain and to maintain Britain’s position in the world. Morrison, again staking his claim for innovative leadership, accused the government of drift and argued for ‘a coherent and realistic plan for dealing with the situation’. He stated that he would be disposed to ‘inform the United States government that from a given date we should be compelled to stop all further dollar expenditure on Germany’. Bevan urged drastic action, such as withdrawal from Palestine or a complete ban of American films. He also insisted that any hardships imposed on civilians would be matched by ‘severe measures to restrict our expenditure overseas and must be shared equally by the whole population’. From both left and right Attlee was under attack.

Attlee’s concern, his desire to know all shades of opinion within the party, was prompted by the imminent debate on an Emergency Powers Bill, scheduled for 6 August. From the left of the party – Foot, Crossman, Mikardo, Wigg, Castle, Wyatt, Mallalieu and others – came urging that that in the forthcoming debate he should stress that the government would meet the crisis with more and not less socialism. Specifically, he should repudiate the Opposition’s demands for cuts in the housing programme. There should be more rapid demobilisation to reduce the strength of the Armed Forces to 750,000 by March 1948, and a clear statement both of goals and of how they would be achieved. The public needed reassurance that there would not be a ‘buyers’ strike’ and that the government would vigorously pursue alternative buying options in ‘soft currency’ areas.43

In preparation for the Emergency Powers debate Leslie Rowan sent Attlee a memorandum on 2 August. Its premise was that there should be as much co-operation with the Opposition as possible in a national crisis, but no coalition. ‘I feel so strongly that it is essential to do everything which is possible and practicable to ensure the maximum support for a programme that is vital to the country’s welfare’, wrote Rowan. Plans for the nationalisation of iron and steel had been leaked and so Attlee should reveal the revised plan ‘in the public interest but combining this with a practical approach designed to secure the full co-operation of the industry.’

Most importantly, there should be ‘a month of brotherhood’ (a variant on the Dunkirk spirit theme) and Rowan gave Attlee a document prepared by two naval officers, arguing that: ‘the present state of the country … is ignorance, apathy, bewilderment, hopelessness, despair and disillusionment – in varying degrees amongst individuals, classes and groups.’ Politicians were not trusted, but this was a chance for Attlee ‘to show his greatness. His choice is simply: the agony of collapse or the crusade of unity.’44

This was most laudable, but beyond the abstracts there were problems that defied simple moral rearmament solutions. The Conservative Party was not slow to point these out when the debate opened on 6 August. This evolved into a three-day affair, of which the first day and a half were devoted to the economic situation and the closing day and a half to the Supplies and Services (Transitional Powers) – or more simply, Emergency Powers – Bill.

Oliver Stanley, the Conservative Member for Bristol West, launched the attack. He first trained his fire at Dalton, broadening this to include ‘whoever got us into this crisis’. His challenge to Attlee came at the end of his speech in a rousing, non-partisan coda. ‘We on this side of the House are prepared to do nothing at all to save socialism, but we are prepared to do anything to save this country.’45

Responding, Attlee was bluntly logical, repeating points that he had made consistently during the previous two years: Britain had incurred gigantic liabilities during the war. It was vital to rebuild the economy which was, it emerged, more damaged than had been thought. Prices in the western hemisphere had risen by 40 per cent and the fuel and weather crises had been severe setbacks. Hard, long, sustained effort was now called for from everyone. This was a time for communal effort and the government welcomed the co-operation of the Opposition. When Labour joined the coalition government in 1940, he reminded the House, it didn’t insist on nationalisation. Attlee trusted that the Opposition would now behave in similar fashion.46

The speech was a workmanlike and accurate description of events leading to the crisis; it was also uninspiring, a flat recital of events ending with a call for continued austerity. From both the Opposition benches and from Labour back-benches – in the shape of Ian Mikardo47 – came criticism of the Prime Minister for lack of leadership, lack of fire and passion. The Cabinet was accused of poor co-ordination,48 adding another charge to the many levelled at Attlee. Both Cabinet and Prime Minister emerged badly damaged.

Two days later, on a Sunday evening, Attlee broadcast to the country on the BBC. Trade has always been central to our economy, he said. But with our houses and factories bombed to ruins we had a heavy handicap. We needed time to recover and so we borrowed from the United States and Canada, hoping to repay the loans by 1949. But the shortage of labour and materials, as well as the world shortage of food, caused problems, exacerbated by the lack of coal and power. Then came a very severe winter. Meanwhile American food prices rose by 40 per cent. Pending post-war settlements, forces were kept overseas. There was a shortage of dollars and a drain on resources. As a result, the American and Canadian loans would be exhausted by the end of the year. The crisis was as grave as any in the nation’s history. Everyone must make sacrifices and be ready to serve wherever needed. He was certain of ultimate victory. The reward would be the survival of the British way of life.49

On the following morning the Parliamentary Party met amid mutual recrimination, as Gaitskell recorded in his diary:

Several angry and excited backbenchers made speeches critical of the government and the PM. I was depressed because much of what was said was unrealistic. The usual sort of stuff. ‘People are ready to follow a lead for austerity if only you’ll give it.’ ‘People are ready for a more left-wing policy.’ … The PM replied rather ineffectively … His speech last week certainly was, as Evan [Durbin] said, catastrophic.50

Never had the party required more decisive leadership, more charismatic than Attlee’s bloodless style. Unprecedented criticism was levelled at the Prime Minister for hesitating over the nationalisation of iron and steel, for failure to reduce the size of the armed forces, and for lack of drive in promoting economic growth. A. J. Cummings reported in the News Chronicle that Attlee, ‘exhausted and feeling deeply the humiliation of recent days’, had offered to resign;51 Frank Owen, editor of the Daily Mail, wrote that he was ready to go to the King and hand in the seals of office.52

The Opposition leaders stepped up their offensive, backed by the right-wing press. On 16 August a Churchill broadcast reignited the ‘Gestapo’ rhetoric of the election:

The totalitarian theme was echoed by Macmillan, writing in the Sunday Chronicle (‘We must either be slaves or starve. The trouble is that we look like doing both.’54), and by a Daily Mail editorial, ‘When Britain becomes a concentration camp on October 1 the winter will be well on the way’.55

Throughout August the Cabinet discussed draconian cuts. Foreign travel allowances were reduced to £35 during any fourteen-month period; the individual petrol ration was abolished from 1 October; travel on foreign craft was forbidden; work on new houses was to cease.56 There was growing concern that the measures would be so unpopular with the public that they would ultimately exacerbate the problems they were designed to solve. By September there was growing concern among the Labour ‘Big Five’ that Attlee was unequal to the task of providing the dynamic leadership required.

Cripps had for some time questioned Attlee’s leadership style, particularly what he considered wastage of time in Cabinet committees.57 His frustration with management by committee rather than by executive action grew as the government appeared direction-less during 1947, ‘drifting in a state of semi-consciousness towards the rapids’, as Dalton had described it. The only credible leader, he became convinced, was Bevin. As it happened, Dalton and Bevin had journeyed by road from Durham to London in late July and Dalton had hinted at such a move. Dalton and Cripps now decided to call on Bevin and sound him out. A suitable leak was arranged to the Daily Mail, who laid the groundwork with a headline, ‘ATTLEE RESIGNING SOON. BEVIN TO BE PM.’58 Bevin’s refusal to consider the offer was splendidly expressed. ‘Who do you think I am? Lloyd George?’ he thundered.59

During August Cripps and Dalton continued to plot to supplant Attlee with Bevin.60 Overtures to Morrison stalled for the simple reason that Morrison was busy promoting himself, rather than the Foreign Secretary, as the most suitable candidate. Bevin himself was unenthusiastic, asking rhetorically, ‘Why should I do him out of a job? What’s Clem ever done to me?’61 Gaitskell recorded that there was a pervasive atmosphere of intrigue: ‘You could not go in [to the Commons dining room] without several people looking at you hard and wondering whether you were involved in some intrigue or other, and also wondering what your position would be in the near future.’62

Determined to force his agenda, Cripps called on Attlee after dinner on 9 September. He urged him to resign in favour of Bevin and to take the Treasury himself. Unflustered, Attlee picked up the telephone, reached Bevin and said, ‘Stafford’s here; he says you want to change your job.’ The attempted putsch collapsed when Bevin denied any such intention.

Bevin was central to any proposed toppling of Attlee. No other member of the ‘Big Five’ had the broad-based support or authority to be Prime Minister, either of a Labour government or of a coalition. Despite stalwart denials from both sides of the House that a coalition was being considered, Pierson Dixon of the Foreign Office confided to his diary rumours of a planned coalition under Bevin that would include both Attlee and Churchill. Bevin would, he wrongly believed, ‘find it hard to resist the lure of the premiership’.63

Without Bevin Cripps found himself facing his leader with no support for the putsch he had proposed. In an inspired move, whether rehearsed or ex tempore, Attlee confided in Cripps that he planned changes in the Cabinet and its structure. There had been pressure from the left to appoint a Minister of Economic Affairs; would Cripps take on the new position? With this move Cripps would move up in the hierarchy, overtaking both Morrison and Dalton; at a stroke Attlee secured the loyalty of another lieutenant. As Dalton described the attempted coup, ‘The movement begun by Cripps … to put Bevin in Attlee’s place has turned into a movement to put Cripps in Morrison’s place, or at least in the most important part of it.’64 With a deft Cabinet reshuffle, Attlee could now consolidate his position.

In descriptions of the first Attlee Cabinet one hears the creak of age. The members were ‘tired’, ‘exhausted by their work in the war’, essentially old. The events of the summer of 1947 underscore that quality. There were men of stature – Bevin, Cripps, Dalton – whom Attlee needed on the bridge; there were others – Shinwell, Wilmot – who brought no stature to his Cabinet. This was the time to shed them, to bring into the government men who would lead the party in the 1960s. With attention to balance, he reconstructed his Cabinet.

Morrison left for a holiday in Guernsey and Attlee notified him of his attenuated powers on 15 September, commenting that the removal of economic responsibility would allow him more time for his work as Leader of the House and other non-economic work of the Lord President’s Committee. Morrison replied four days later with comments on proposed changes and overall acceptance of the principles behind the Prime Minister’s actions.65 For Attlee the reorganisation was invaluable; it restored his authority, gave Cripps the ascendancy he sought, removed Greenwood from the Cabinet, and dealt deferred payment to Shinwell for the fuel crisis. Three future leaders of the party were promoted: Gaitskell (aged forty-one) to succeed Shinwell at Fuel and Power, Wilson (aged thirty-one) to succeed Cripps at the Board of Trade and Callaghan (aged thirty-five) to be Parliamentary Secretary to Alfred Barnes, Minister of Transport. Other younger men, later to achieve Cabinet rank, – George Brown, Patrick Gordon Walker, Michael Stewart – also moved up.

For George Brown the promotion was the opposite of what he expected when he learned that Attlee wished to see him. Brown had been deputed to speak to Bevin when the Cripps coup was attempted. To his surprise, Bevin’s response was violent: ‘… now you are acting as office boy for that bastard Dalton! I don’t want to see you again.’ After a tongue-lashing from Bevin and a ‘real clobbering’ from the Chief Whip, Brown was summoned to see Attlee two days later. He reckoned that his future in the party was far from bright and was surprised when Attlee offered him the job of Under-Secretary of State at the Ministry of Agriculture! ‘So there I was’, he recalled, ‘a full-blown junior minister, with barely two years in the House of Commons and one abortive revolt behind me.’66

One further event was to shape Attlee’s Cabinet during 1947. In November, on his way to present the autumn budget, Dalton casually let slip to a reporter an element of his proposed tax changes. When this was printed in an early evening edition, Dalton was still speaking in the House; clearly he had been indiscreet. Dalton offered his resignation. Attlee responded, saying, ‘I have given the matter my earnest consideration and have come to the conclusion with great regret that it is my duty to accept it.’67 Dalton’s fall was greeted by widespread rejoicing.68 It also enabled Attlee to put Cripps in the more constitutional position of Chancellor and face the end of what Dalton called Labour’s annus horrendus from a position of greater strength.

The year eventually came to an end; Attlee broadcast to the nation that this had been ‘a year of great strain’. He concluded with the familiar message that, although times were hard, if everyone carried the same spirit into 1948, all would eventually be well.69

For Attlee himself the year that had begun after a leisurely Christmas holiday at Chequers had thrust him into unprecedented crises. Leo Amery sent an ironic New Year’s greeting. He had, he wrote, just been reading Trollope’s The Prime Minister, in which Trollope ‘depicts the poor Prime Minister of seventy years ago, bored to death with having nothing to do between August and February, no department of his own, no Cabinet meetings, nothing except the occasional appointment of a bishop or Lord Lieutenant, and trying to identify individuals among the crowd of guests that his wife insists on inviting.’70 The very opposite of Attlee’s life. The Prime Minister of 1947 must have read Amery’s letter with a wry grin.

ENDNOTES

1 The Times, 1 September 1947.

2 Peter Clarke, A Question of Leadership, p. 197.

3 Bodleian: MS. Attlee. Dep. 45, passim.

4 Manchester Guardian, 11 November 1946. Bodleian: MS. Attlee. Dep. 45.

5 Hansard, HC Deb, 26 November 1946, cols. 1417–20. Bodleian: MS. Attlee. Dep. 47 and dep. 48, passim.

6 TNA: PREM 8/440. Jay to CRA, 19 June 1946.

7 TNA: PREM 8/440. CRA to Dalton, 24 July 1946.

8 The Diary of Hugh Gaitskell, 1945–1956, entry for 12 August 1947, p. 29.

9 Daily Herald, 25 October 1946; referred to by Anthony Eden in House of Commons debate of 7 February 1947, Hansard, vol. 432; col. 2160.

10 Bodleian: MS. Attlee. Dep. 49.

11 Letter to Tom Attlee, 30 August 1945.

12 Kenneth Morgan, Labour in Power 1945–1951, p. 285.

13 Letter to Tom Attlee, 29 December 1946.

14 Diary entry of 30 January 1947, J. W. Wheeler-Bennett, King George VI, His Life and Reign, p. 662.

15 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 49, 20 January 1947.

16 Dalton, High Tide and After: Memoirs, 1945–1960, pp. 187–192. The ‘glad, confident morning’ quotation is from ‘The Lost Leader’, a poem by Robert Browning.

17 Kenneth Morgan, Labour in Power, 1945–1951, pp. 330–331.

18 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 55, 21 June 1947.

19 Hennessy, Never Again, Britain 1945–1951, p. 275.

20 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 53. Memoranda, 31 May 1947 to 4 June 1947.

21 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 54, 16 June 1947.

22 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 55. 20 June 1947. Montgomery wrote to thank Attlee on the same day.

23 News Chronicle, 29 April 1947. Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 52.

24 Clarke Diary, 20 April 1947. Cited at Hennessy, Never Again Britain, pp. 290–291.

25 TNA: PREM 8/489, GEN. 179/1st Meeting, 5 May 1947.

26 TNA: PREM 8/489, CP (47) 170, 31 May 1947.

27 Ibid.

28 Hansard, HC Deb, 28 April 1947, col. 174W.

29 TNA: PREM 8/489, ‘Planning for Expansion’, CP (47) 169, 2 June 1947.

30 TNA: PREM 8/489, CM (47) 52nd Conclusions, 5 June 1947.

31 TNA: PREM 8/479, CM (47) 54th Conclusions, 17 June 1947.

32 TNA: PREM 8/489, CM (47) 56th Conclusions, 24 June 1947.

33 TNA: PREM 8/489, CM (47) 57th Conclusions, 26 June 1947.

34 Durbin was close to Attlee, having worked as his personal assistant during the war.

35 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 57. Durbin to Attlee, 23 July 1947.

36 The signatories included Michael Foot, Dick Crossman, Ian Mikardo, Barbara Castle, Jim Callaghan, Fred Lee, Bill Mallalieu, Woodrow Wyatt and George Wigg.

37 See Chapter 15.

38 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 57. 23 July 1947.

39 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 57, 4 August 1947.

40 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 58, 1 August 1947, Shawcross to CRA.

41 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 58, 1 August 1947, Driberg to CRA. Tom Driberg retained an ambivalent view of the Attlee government, generally feeling that the PM’s brand of ‘Toynbee Hall socialism’ was ‘benign’ and that its reforms were all inevitable anyway. (Driberg, Swaff: The Life and Times of Hannen Swaffer, p. 222.

42 TNA: CM (47) 65th Conclusions, 29 July 1947.

43 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 58, 1 August 1947.

44 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 59, Rowan to CRA, 2 August 1947.

45 Hansard, HC Deb, 6 August 1947, vol. 441, cc. 1473–86.

46 Hansard, HC Deb, 6 August 1947, vol. 441, cols. 1486–1511.

47 Hansard, HC Deb, 8 August 1947, vol. 441, cols.1856–62.

48 From Archer Baldwin, the Tory spokesman on Agriculture, who charged, ‘What a team! Each of them is playing his own hand.’ Hansard, HC Deb, 6 August 1947, cols 1511–12.

49 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 58, 10 August 1947.

50 The Diary of Hugh Gaitskell, 1945–1956 (ed. Philip Williams), entry for Tuesday 12 August 1947, pp. 26–27.

51 News Chronicle, 12 August 1947.

52 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 61.

53 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 61, 16 August 1947.

54 Sunday Chronicle, 10 August 1947.

55 Daily Mail, 11 September 1947.

56 TNA: PREM 8/479, CM (47) 74th Conclusions, 25 August 1947.

57 TNA: CAB 21/1701, ‘Organisation of Cabinet Committees, 1946–1947’, Bridges to Brook, 5 July 1946.

58 Daily Mail, 20 August 1947; cited by Pimlott, Dalton, p. 514.

59 Bullock, Ernest Bevin: Foreign Secretary, p. 456.

60 Bullock, Ernest Bevin, Foreign Secretary, pp. 454–455.

61 Mayhew, Diary entry for 29 July 1947, Time to Explain, p. 104; Donoughue and Jones, Herbert Morrison, Portrait of a Politician, p. 414.

62 The Diary of Hugh Gaitskell, 1945–1956, Entry for 14 October 1947.

63 Dixon, Double Diploma, p. 246. Cited by Morgan, Labour in Power 1945–1951, p. 352.

64 For Dalton’s account see Dalton, High Tide and After, pp. 240–246.

65 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 60.

66 George Brown, In My Way, pp. 50–51.

67 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 63, Dalton to CRA and CRA to Dalton, 13 November 1947.

68 Morgan, Labour People, p. 120.

69 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 66, 3 January 1948.

70 Bodleian: MS. Attlee, dep. 66, Amery to CRA 18 January 1948.