by Roy Jenkins
TUESDAY, 26 JULY. Brussels.
Foreign Affairs Council all day. At the lunch JET was discussed, the vote not having come out very well: Culham had received four votes, Britain, Denmark, Ireland and Belgium; Garching had received two, Germany and Luxembourg. Three had abstained, including two big countries, France, who were abstaining because they had gone slightly cool on the whole project, and Italy and Holland, who were both more capable, if only the British would play their hand well, of being swung pro-Culham. I tried hard and successfully to get Genscher to accept a moral commitment to take a firm positive decision at the next Council.
David Owen, I thought, was being rather obtuse about this and making things more difficult for himself, but then everybody can be obtuse from time to time. Back for a rather desultory early afternoon in the Council. Both Brunner and I, I thought, dealt rather badly with Commission representation at INFCEP (International Nuclear Fuel Cycle Evaluation Programme), when we should have roughed up Guiringaud, who was talking absolute nonsense, much more than we did. Maybe it is not a good idea to have great rows at the end of the summer when everyone is tired. However, I went home slightly discontented and displeased with myself, as is so often the case after the Council of Ministers.
WEDNESDAY, 27 JULY. Brussels and London.
Awoke on a dark July morning typical of nearly the whole of this summer: at 8 o’clock I had to have the light on. The last Commission meeting before the holidays. Oreja,171 the Spanish Foreign Minister, to lunch, preparatory to the official presentation of their application the following day. A small, bright, highly intelligent youngish career diplomat. I very much enjoyed seeing him and, indeed, the whole of his party, who struck me as very good indeed.
At 4.45 I adjourned the Commission with a few brief words, wishing people good holidays, to which Ortoli responded with particular warmth (he is a very nice man) saying how well I had run the Commission. There was then, to my surprise, a round of applause around the table, so perhaps the six months haven’t been as bad as they have sometimes seemed. Rather encouraged by this, I had the cabinet for a glass of champagne at 5.30 and caught the 6.25 plane to London.
Ann Fleming gave a restaurant dinner party with Bonham Carters, Jo Grimond,172 David Carritt,173 Garrett Drogheda,174 Evangeline Bruce and Diana Phipps.175 And then on to the Beaumarchais’ for a remarkable farewell party of nearly three hundred. It was very carefully chosen, and there is I think no English couple who could have brought together such a collection of people from so many strands of English life. At about 12.30, Jennifer and I walked home. Rather the end of an epoch, having known that embassy so well for so long, to some extent under the Chauvels, then very well under the Courcels, and even better under the Beaumarchais’. I doubt if we will ever go there much in the future, and the sense of the end of an epoch was greatly accentuated by walking back to Ladbroke Square to spend almost our last night there.
THURSDAY, 28 JULY. London.
Threw away a lot of old clothes. I dislike both the decision of throwing things away and the sense of dismantling one’s past life. Lunch in Albany with the Walston group.176 About a dozen people turned up, including to my surprise David Owen. Having been told the night before by Bill Rodgers that David had circulated a Cabinet paper arguing in favour of an extremely loose, confederal, nondynamic, semi-free trade area EEC, I had decided rather deliberately to refute this, but was not expecting to do it in his presence. However, it was better that he was there, and we had a perfectly good-tempered argument. Bill strongly joined in on my side. Some of the others were rather mixed in their views. John Harris,177 coming in late, was struck by the extent to which, on arrival, David looked defensive, with his eyes on the ground. I was not aware of this. However, it was good of him to have come.
Back to Ladbroke Square and saw Edward off in his one smart suit and bands, carrying his gown, about to pick up his wig, to be called to the Bar. Edward going off in this way heightened the sense of the end of a long chapter, as the first time I remember being in Ladbroke Square, particularly alone in the afternoon, was when he was being born twenty-three years ago and we had just moved in and Jennifer was in hospital.
FRIDAY, 29 JULY. London and East Hendred.
Finally left Ladbroke Square at 10.00, and drove to East Hendred. To Crowmarsh Gifford to a seventy-third birthday party of dear old Selwyn Lloyd’s.178 He told me on the way out that he was going to write about Suez, to which I said that my Secretary-General, Emile Noël, probably knew as much about it as anyone else, having been Mollet’s Chef de Cabinet, to which Selwyn agreed that Noël probably knew more than he did as there were certain things about collusion which were known, he thought, to Mollet and Eden but were kept from him.
SUNDAY, 31 JULY. East Hendred.
Wrigglesworths to lunch. Ian Wrigglesworth179 is a remarkable young man, with great sense and energy and buoyancy. I was extremely lucky to have him as my PPS.
TUESDAY, 2 AUGUST. East Hendred.
The cabinet plus one or two others arrived at about 11.00 for a day’s strategy meeting. We were in the garden, and after three-quarters of an hour Renato Ruggiero began to complain about the heat. He was sitting in full sunlight which Italians quite rightly cannot stand. So we had to have a short adjournment to move up into the shade. Otherwise I feared that Renato’s Neapolitan blood would soon liquefy. Apart from or perhaps in addition to this, Renato put up a very impressive performance, indeed nearly everybody did rather well and we had a very useful morning’s discussion on relations with the different member governments and how this affected our attitude to monetary union and enlargement in particular. In the afternoon we talked mainly about agricultural policy, the Mediterranean, and monetary union again. Graham Avery was extremely good on agriculture. Michael Emerson opened crucially on monetary union.
I did a general summing-up, of which the main import was that as the harsh reality was that none of the three main governments, France, Germany or Britain, was prepared to support a major Commission initiative, we, combined with trying to get certain urgent, practical things through, had to be prepared to go against them and to blaze a trail to a greater extent than we had done previously, however much this offended people, and that the obvious direction for this was towards monetary union.
THURSDAY, 4 AUGUST. East Hendred.
Another perfect day; up early and had an eight-mile walk from 7.30. Too long. Exhaustion set in during the morning. Beaumarchais’ to stay for the final visit of their London life. They were in a good and easy mood despite their extreme irritation of the early summer at the abruptness of their removal.180 Their final period had been such a success that this had put them back in a fairly sunny condition.
SUNDAY, 7 AUGUST. East Hendred and Ripe.
Took the Beaumarchais’ to near Basingstoke to lunch with Christopher Soames,181 who had two of his children there, Nicholas, a nice, intelligent boy in spite of his size, and Emma; but not Mary. A very good lunch, as one would expect at the Soames’, a fine gigot, good wine. There was a mild political row between Jacques and Christopher after lunch, and then Christopher and I went off and talked for a bit in his new library, during which he was remarkably friendly and uncritical about my Brussels régime, considering how tempting it would be for him to take a different attitude. I am not sure that he had much positive advice, except that I ought to go and visit the Berlaymont telephone exchange. Then motored on through Surrey and Sussex to Ripe (Bonham Carters’) for the last time, as that house too is being abandoned.
WEDNESDAY, 10 AUGUST. Ripe.
In the afternoon we drove via Cuckmere Haven and Birling Gap to Beachy Head, where we walked to the edge and lay looking out over the cliffs. There was a perfectly calm sea and the towering chalk cliffs made it, although there were too many people about, a rather memorable day. It was the first time that I had spent a summer afternoon looking out from those cliffs towards France since July 1943 when I lay there all day on an army exercise and the French shore seemed more forbidding.
THURSDAY, 11 AUGUST. Ripe, London and East Hendred.
Left just before 3 o’clock, feeling sentimental about leaving Ripe for the last time. However the best corrective for feeling sentimental about Ripe is to drive from it to London, as it is the most appalling route with the most appalling traffic. Went to the new flat for the first time. It is rather splendid and removes part of my regrets about Ladbroke Square. The Rodgers’ came to dinner. They were particularly nice; an immense pleasure seeing them. East Hendred at 11.30.
FRIDAY, 19 AUGUST. East Hendred.
Eric and Frieda Roll brought Robert Marjolin182 to lunch. Marjolin sympathetic and interesting as always, depressing about the future of Europe, thought the essential task was to hold what we had achieved. When I pointed out that this was hardly inspiring, he agreed and said, ‘Yes, maybe we have to move forward,’ but he was sceptical about my ideas on monetary union. Said that he could not vote for Mitterrand, which was rather surprising for a Socialist candidate of the 1960s. He would vote for Mitterrand on his own but not for Mitterrand plus Marchais.183 Therefore he would vote for the ‘majority’ whether the candidate was Giscard or even Chirac. He might vote for a Lecanuet-like figure. We had quite a good talk after lunch, which was rather mind-clearing from my point of view, about the general European position and Schmidt/Giscard relations. When I said that Schmidt insisted that he had to work closely with Giscard because ‘Valéry is my only friend’, Marjolin said, ‘Well, he must be a very lonely man indeed if Valéry is his only friend, because Valéry is nobody’s friend but his own.’ It was a day of indescribable awfulness: almost continuous rain, low cloud, very dark, very cold.
MONDAY, 22 AUGUST. East Hendred and Lucca.
Flew to Pisa at 8.00, arriving, as quite often, in extremely disagreeable weather. Drove to the Gilmours’ house, La Pianella, up its dreadful drive from Torcigliano, eight miles north-west of Lucca. The weather had apparently been pretty filthy for at least five days past though having, as is so often the case, been good during the first part of August. The Italian weather always breaks at Feragosto: sometimes it comes back quickly and sometimes it doesn’t, but this is such a reliable rule that one is lunatic not to take notice of it.
TUESDAY, 30 AUGUST. Lucca and Portofino.
To the Berlins’ near Portofino. Despite the rain, the Gilmour visit was enjoyable, and we had at least had three (out of eight) good days of weather, which was a higher proportion than most people in England or Italy had had during the previous fortnight. I had written the introduction to the English edition of Monnet’s memoirs, read in proof Ian’s new book, as well as the new volume of Virginia Woolf’s diaries, a life of E. M. Forster, and finished a Simenon.
Arrived at Parragi, a mile or so short of Portofino, where we met the Berlins and the Donaldsons at the bottom of their great hill. During lunch, to our amazement, there came a real clearance, blue sky and full sunshine. A beautiful evening and this bit of coast, with the Berlins’ villa perched 500 steps above the little bay, still more attractive than I had remembered it six years before. There is one great advantage to the old Riviera, whether French or Italian, but particularly Italian: if one has to be in a fairly built-up area, as is now almost inevitable in the western Mediterranean, it is much better that it should have been built up sixty, seventy or a hundred years ago, because it was then done with much less violence to the landscape, much more spaciously, much better set in the trees, much better building indeed, than where the development has just been done.
MONDAY, 5 SEPTEMBER. East Hendred and Brussels.
To Brussels via Antwerp, as the interminable semi-strike seemed to have disorganized the direct service. It was by no means wholly disagreeable being back, particularly as the weather in Belgium, in contrast with that on most of our holiday, seemed rather good. The holiday has been too long; forty days in a row, although in itself agreeable, is not the right balance. It is so long away that after the half-way mark there is a greater feeling of apprehension about the return than of enjoyment of the actuality. It would be better to have only four weeks without Commission meetings, as indeed I told them at the first meeting, with two other weeks of break.
TUESDAY, 6 SEPTEMBER. Brussels.
During the morning I saw Signora Allende, widow of the assassinated Chilean leader, of whom I did not think much. She had actually played no part in politics while her husband was alive and is a rather stupid and slightly hysterical woman, who has become very much a professional political widow. There was a faint touch of Jennie Lee,184 but I don’t think she has ever done anything nearly as effective as Jennie Lee did for the arts.
THURSDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER. Brussels.
Simonet to lunch. He, as usual, was on good and buoyant form though, less usually, was neither eating nor drinking much. He was gloomy about being able to settle JET because of the obsession of the German Government with its kidnapping problems and his consequent inability to see Schmidt, as well as the failure of the bilateral visit of Callaghan to Schmidt to take place. Full of some good plans for the autumn including, which is of interest and value to us, a seriously focused discussion about the longer-term economic position, which would give me a chance to try and deploy my monetary union ideas at the European Council on 5/6 December.
I asked Simonet why the so-called ‘Rubens Summit’, which had been proposed by Giscard in London and set up for Wednesday, 21 September, in Antwerp, had been unexpectedly cancelled. He said because Giscard had gone completely cold on it and when he had gone to see him in Paris had claimed not to be able to remember having heard of it, still less having suggested it. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘an interesting idea, but what purpose would it serve?’ Giscard had obviously been very much on this lofty form throughout Simonet’s visit. On Giscard’s general attitude to him and Belgium, he said: ‘He treated me like a farmer, a quite substantial farmer, who had come to pay the rent and should be allowed to have a sort of annual visit with some conversation, and even refreshment, but not lunch, in the course of doing so.’
FRIDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER. Brussels.
A serious meeting at 11.45 with Gundelach with whom for more than an hour I went through all our commitments and his agricultural plans for the autumn and winter. He looked greatly revived by the holiday, and the meeting was both useful and agreeable. He I think was a little oppressed at the fact that I had learnt a good deal about the CAP and the details of his portfolio during the summer. Stevy Davignon to lunch, and I expounded to him my plans for the autumn.
George Thomson came to dine and stay the night. He is sensible and wise about nearly all the issues and had obviously found, mutatis mutandis, much the same difficulties in Brussels that I have. In particular he said that, having always previously had very good and easy press relations, he found the Brussels press corps an absolute nightmare. Our only disagreement was that he was cautious and sceptical about the wisdom of my determination to relaunch monetary union.
TUESDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER. Brussels and Luxembourg.
Left for Luxembourg by car about 7.40. The first perfect autumn morning; mist in the valley of the Meuse at Namur, but brilliant sunshine most of the way. Budget debate all day in the Parliament. After the speech of Eyskens, the Belgian Budget Minister, which was competent and wisely low key, Tugendhat spoke extremely effectively, staking out our strong line of conflict with the Council, and was very well received by the Parliament.
I took Ted Heath, who was paying a visit to prepare for his great Europe lecture at the Conservative Conference, to lunch at a restaurant about four miles out and found him on quite good form, very willing to listen and inform himself, and favourably disposed towards monetary union. Then back for the continuation of the debate. I spoke for about twenty-five minutes, and this again, like Tugendhat’s speech, was regarded as effective. Eyskens wound up in a slightly battered but skilful way at the end. I gave a dinner for the Liberal Group.
WEDNESDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER. Luxembourg and Brussels.
Breakfast with Simonet a
nd Colombo at the curiously Washington-style house of the Belgian Ambassador to Luxembourg. This was exclusively concerned with the boring old issue of the Parliament’s new offices in Brussels, a subject in which I am determined to avoid the Commission getting deeply involved. Back to Brussels by TEE over lunch.
Dined with General Haig and a largish party at Mons. The party was principally for the new US Ambassador to NATO, Tapley Bennett, whose wife I sat next to and found intelligent and agreeable. I was not quite so sure about him. He made a markedly bad speech in reply to the General’s almost equally bad one after dinner. It is curious that Americans should be so addicted to these little after-dinner speeches mentioning and welcoming all the guests when they are so bad at it. However, my impression of Haig as being an effective man with a modest manner even if vaulting ambitions, remained unimpaired by the evening.
THURSDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER. Brussels.
Lunched with COREPER. A slightly awkward issue surfaced: whether the Council presidency (i.e. for the moment the Belgians, next the Danes) should be represented as well as us at the official follow-up talks to the London Summit which Crispin attends for us. There also sadly emerged the certainty that we cannot take JET at the September Council owing to the post-kidnapping paralysis of the German Government. I spoke to Dohnanyi on the telephone in Bonn and got him to promise that the matter would be dealt with at the Belgian ‘Schloss Gymnich’-type meeting in early October, or, at the very latest, at the October Council itself.
Speech in the evening to the British Labour Group in Brussels. It was the sort of semi-informal speech to a Fabian group or a Labour Party dinner or a university Labour Club, which I had done constantly over thirty years, but at which I have got rather out of practice in the last year. I found it highly enjoyable and rather stimulating. It was a pleasure to speak leaning against a table and without a text, rather than to make the much more formal statements with translation, to which I have recently become used.
