SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
An odd thing about the recent row over the Tate Gallery's expansion was the almost universal assumption that whatever happened, portico or no portico, the money would have to be found by the Treasury. Odd, because earlier in its history the Tate relied exclusively upon private benefactions for all its building costs. Somehow the idea has been firmly lodged in the conventional wisdom that the day of the private patron is over. Like much else in the conven- tional wisdom, the idea is nonsense. In spite of the efforts of successive governments, the country has more wealth than ever, and more people than ever seem to be interested in the arts. Lord Eccles was on to a very good point indeed the other day when he stressed the need to find ways of encouraging private patronage and diminishing the state's role. His recipe, basically, was tax concessions for those who give to the arts. The charm of this approach is that it both decreases the demands upon the Treasury and increases the flow of money. The question will be whether Lord Eccles's political colleagues, assuming they form the next govern- ment, will be bold enough to adopt his method.
Patronage from the top worked handsomely in mediaeval times, and in its present form it was a logical development from the conditions of rising expectations and actual poverty of half a century or more ago. But today the masses spend hugely on the arts in certain ways (a million pounds a week goes on gramophone records, for example) but elsewhere it is assumed that everything has to come out of taxation. It seems a nonsensical arrangement.
An indignant writer complained to me the other day that the Arts Council's latest list of `bursaries' includes one of MO\ to an American, living in Rome, for his Italian translation. The money is, of course, from British taxpayers (including British writers). I agreed that such a gift did seem ridiculous. But, of course, the more we trust other people to spend our money, the more likely we are to disagree with the results.
Picking winners
For a party which likes to think it is inherently better qualified to govern than any other, the Conservatives make curiously heavy weather of choosing parliamentary candidates. Local party , workers cannot resist wringing the last drop of self-importance out of the one moment when they can feel they wield genuine power. Hence the recurrent stories of candidates' wives being grilled about their social attainments, of retired military men sniffing out dangerously pro- gressive views, of ex-cabinet ministers being passed over in favour of local nobodies who are sound on hanging. The latest incident at Rom- ford is comical. The Tory chairman there has been questioning would-be candidates about their marital or extra-marital affairs, about whether they were worth at least £30,000, about any criminal or disreputable episodes in their past, and so on. Some of those interrogated appear to have resented it. I should have expected anyone seeking a Tory nomination to be prepared for anything by now.
This kind of questioning is chiefly remark- able for its pointlessness. Anyone with a shady past is hardly likely to admit to it if he is brazen enough to offer himself as a candidate in the first place. Equally, a man need not feel himself obliged to disclose his mistress's name and address just because a local politician asked him to. And as to being worth £30,000 or more, I can quite understand that no party would want a candidate with a shabby financial history —but having £30,000 is hardly a sure sign of honesty or stability. However, I notice that all three Tories who won last week's by-elections are Old Etonians. This suggests to me that the course most likely to satisfy local Tory selectors would be simply• to short-list all the Etonian applicants, and then give the nomin- ation to the one with the most money and the fewest wives. That should keep the cads out, by gad.
Shock tactic
One of the jolliest scientific experiments I've ever read of was performed by the Abbe Nollet before Louis XV and his court. He arranged a party of Carthusian friars in a line a mile long and connected each friar with his neighbour by wires; then he sent an electric current along the wires and to the amusement of the royal on- lookers all the holy men leapt into the air simultaneously. We have progressed far beyond such innocent scientific frolics nowadays. I thought of the jumping friars, however, when I read of the recent Cambridge experiments with chaffinches. Researchers there have been deliberately making some of these birds deaf in order to observe the effect, if any, upon their ability to sing. To these researchers the experi- ment no doubt appears ordinary and sensible; references to 'cruelty' have no relevance in the scientific context. I sometimes wonder if such scientists ever speculate about the possibility of a popular backlash (fashionable word)r against them and their works. If that day ever comes, the scientists may find themselves, two centuries or more later, in a reversal of historic roles: they will_be the Abbe Nollet's friars, leaping about for others' amusement, quite possibly with something more discommoding than a mild touch of electricity to worry about.
Dog days
'Winston Churchill,' according to Dr Anthony Storr's psycho-analytical study in a new hook, 'suffered from prolonged and recurrent fits of depression; and no understanding of nis character is possible unless this central fact is taken into account' This may well be true. But what is distinctly shaky is the piece of evidence quoted : 'His own name for depression was "Black Dog:" and the fact that he had a nickname for it argues that it was all too familiar a companion.' All that this fact really argues is that Churchill was better acquainted with the English language than his biographer. 'Black dog' was once a common term for depression of spirits or ill-humour, although it's now mostly forgotten; the Oxford dictionary traces it back to 1826. I would like to know how the phrase came into being. To say 'a black dog has walked over him' apparently means that a person has a sullen nature; and the devil himself has been fiequently symbolised by a black dog. I can't think why. Some of the best-tempered dogs have known have been black Labradors.
Previous page
