SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
So Mr Wilson decided to give the poet's laurel to the sound and worthy Establishment man after all. Cecil Day Lewis may be the first ex- communist to hold the office; even so, today he floats securely on the sluggish main stream of laureate verse. The nicest thing about his appointment is that he's so obviously delighted by it; in this at least he recalls Alfred Austin, upon whom Lord Salisbury bestowed the laurel in 1896 'because he wanted it so much.' In re- cent, years Day Lewis has even been gently broken in to the title. He was hailed at the Women's Institute's jubilee conference in 1965 as 'the wt's own poet laureate': this in return for various poetic services to the movement, in- cluding a composition containing the lines 'Acting, handicrafts, lectures, yes, But best of all the togetherness' —a thoroughly laureate-like sentiment. It's odd now to think of the steeliness of his 'thirties poems, or even that in the 'fifties he was the 'modernist' candidate for the Oxford poetry chair against C. S. Lewis (whom he defeated). He will no doubt rise loyally to meet all the mild demands now made of a poet laureate. And just as company chairmen politely acknow- ledge, on receiving their knighthoods, that the honour is really due to the team they represent, so, I take it, the honour to Mr Day Lewis is also a salute to the blameless army of thriller- writers, writers of children's books (The Otter- bury Incident is a particular favourite in my family), publishers, the Arts Council, Lord Goodman, and the Royal Society of Literature. I wish they'd been able to persuade John Bet- jeman to take it on, though.
Cuts right and left
Perhaps it came as some sort of comfort to Mr Roy Jenkins to learn this week that the Tory party is experiencing its own financial moment of truth. With annual expenditure out- stripping income by some £400,000, it's hardly surprising that staff is being pruned, both at Central Office and in the country. The difficulty in controlling this sort of expenditure, of course, lies in the near-impossibility of measur- ing the return on the money. Sometimes shoe- string efforts in politics seem to work wonders, at other times success can reasonably be attri- buted to extensive and expensive efforts. Mrs Ewing's recent victory for the Scottish Nation- alists, for example, was not solely due to mount- ing separatist sentiment: a lot of money was spent on party organisation. On a different scale, the Tories themselves spent a million pounds on advertising in the months preceding the 1964 election; but it is hard to believe the dividends were commensurate.
Traditionally the Tories have always kept their money matters very much to themselves. The current frankness about their problems is part of an enforced process of change which is welcome; within a few weeks they will also publish their party accounts for the first time in history. These should make interesting read- ing. One disclosure will be the proportion of Tory income drawn from individual subscribers and that from companies and other corporate supporters. It may be this will help to raise more money from individual members—which would
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be an unexpected service for the Government to have done the Opposition. You can never be sure where your friends are in politics.
Channel crossing
Hardly a week goes by without new evidence that the French and the English are under some mysterious compulsion to exchange their accustomed roles in the world. The latest, the prospect of Britain being evicted from the Simonstown base in favour of the French navy, is only one specific example. The odd fact is that along a broad front the French are act- ing in a way that used to be thought peculiarly British—and vice versa. We have taken over the lead in women's- fashions; we -pride our- selves on being arbiters of modish taste; we are also renowned for sexual permissiveness, an uneasy currency, and disillusion with our political system. France, in turn, practises a John Bullish truculence in world affairs, her sailors display Nelsonian insouciance when challenged by British ships, her radio and tele- vision are ruled by Reith-like restraints; while French society is thought strait-laced and puri- tanical by the standards of swinging London.
I even noted the other day that my old friend Sam White, whose column in the Evening Standard keeps Anglo-Saxons unfailingly in- formed about the world that lies around the Craton, had written a poignant obituary for the once unrivalled night life of Paris. This formerly gay scene, he lamented, has become 'leaden and provincial.' Much as London used to be a few years ago, in fact, when he could knowledgeably delight his English friends with the resourcefulness and verve of Paris's diver- sions after nightfall. Those of us who profited from his guidance then owe him a sympathetic thought in his present predicament—whatever doubts we may feel about the overall desir- ability of this bizarre swopping of national attitudes.
Frost-bitten
David Frost very probably did himself a dis- service by his noisy duel with Denis Healey-- entertaining though it was for the viewer. He won't find it so easy in future to persuade Cabinet ministers to appear on his show, not at least while the memory of the Healey fracas is fresh. On thp other hand, he may well have done the politicians a good turn by jolting them into recognising a few basic facts about tele- vision. The difficulty is that politicians are so infatuated with the medium that they overlook the difference between communicating with the public and going into show-biz. Context is im- portant: on a show like Frost's, the inter- vThwer has infinitely more freedom than a responsible public man can enjoy. If a Cabinet minista finds himself being needled by a string of questions which he is simply not per- mitted to answer, he can only do what Healey did, namely, resort to stuffy-sounding evasions; and in these matey dayg that is an embarrassing position. Of course it made 'good television.' ani of these days, perhaps, someone will bring to. an end an unwelcome television inquisition by simply getting up and walking out, but I've yet to hear of its happening. Why not, I wonder? That would be 'good television' too.
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