European Diary, 1977-1981

by Roy Jenkins

  WEDNESDAY, 23 AUGUST. Sare.

  Drove into Biarritz earlier than usual, with Jennifer and Robert and Serena Armstrong (who had arrived to stay), swam in the usual bouncing breakers, went into the Hôtel du Palais to show the Armstrongs the plaque commemorating Asquith’s kissing hands there with King Edward VII on his appointment as Prime Minister in 1908, and noted again that although only about fifty words long it contains two mistakes.

  Chaban Delmas’18 to lunch. Chaban, although looking somewhat older than when I had seen him last two years ago, seemed more vigorous and, although talking desultorily during lunch, was striking afterwards. His perspective of French politics was at once traditional and personal. He was indifferent to Giscard, but in favour of maintaining the prerogatives of a President of the Fifth Republic, and bitterly critical of Chirac, whom he thought the embodiment of all evil, for opposing him, a curious reversal of positions since Chirac supported Giscard in 1974 and scuppered Chaban’s own candidature as a result. Chaban believed that Mitterrand remained in a powerful position, still full of ambition for the 1981 election, but that when he had gone, which he thought would not be until after that, the French Socialist Party might well split up as there would then be nobody to hold it together.

  THURSDAY, 24 AUGUST. Sare and East Hendred.

  We left just at 11.00, getting into Spain in an hour. We got slightly lost on the way to Bilbao airport, but this at least gave us a view of Bilbao, which reminded me of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, before they got rid of the smog. East Hendred at 5.00 on a fine but cool afternoon. The visit to Sare had been a great success. It was, as always, a great pleasure to be with the Beaumarchais’, and the Armstrongs made a bonne-bouche at the end. I think Jacques needed guests and I suspect if he remains immobile for much longer and Giscard blocks his having anything to do, he may go into a slight decline, which would be very sad indeed.

  FRIDAY, 25 AUGUST. East Hendred and North Wales.

  Left mid-morning to drive to Talsarnau and stay with the Harlechs. We went via Cirencester, Gloucester, Ledbury and Leominster, just beyond which we picnicked in a field with a good Herefordshire red soil view and the sun coming out on a beautiful but cool day. Then on to Ludlow, and to Craven Arms and Bishop’s Castle, through my old 1940 forestry camp area over the road up which David Ginsburg and I (Anthony Elliott joined us next day) had bicycled on a warm mid-July evening in 1940, stopping at a pub for supper and hearing one of Churchill’s most famous 9 o’clock Sunday evening broadcasts -1 think the ‘fight on the beaches’ one.19 Then on through the rolling open countryside of Montgomeryshire into the tiny town of Montgomery where I had never been before, and to Bala, which looked a little less bleak in the sunlight than I had ever seen it, but which was true to form in refusing us a drink because we were too early (normally it is because it is a Sunday). Glyn at 6.30.

  SATURDAY, 26 AUGUST. North Wales.

  A perfect day, strong sunlight, quite cool. Tennis morning and evening. Lunch in the garden. At the end of the afternoon I went for a short drive down to the sea to see the view of the mountains. After tennis it was such a perfect evening that I then drove alone once again to the sea at 8.15 and saw a memorable sunset over the Lleyn Peninsula.

  MONDAY, 28 AUGUST. North Wales.

  A difficult drive via Beddgelert and Caernarvon to lunch with the Cledwyn Hughes’20 on the edge of Anglesey at Trearddur Bay. Of all my close friends in the House of Commons I think he was the only one whom I hadn’t seen since leaving and I was anxious to fill the gap. He is not standing again and therefore has probably been in the House of Commons for the last time as a member. He said he was bored with the House, most of his friends had left and he thought he preferred to get out at sixty-one rather than sixty-five and get other things to do, of which I think he will find a considerable number. Indeed he had already been asked, most surprisingly, to be Ombudsman but, wisely I think, had turned it down. He had had Callaghan on the telephone on Saturday night who was obviously wavering considerably about an October election, although it was Cledwyn’s view that it was still more likely than not that Callaghan would come down for October and that this would be wise.

  We then drove back across the island to call on the Angleseys21 in their new flat at the top of Plas Newydd, they having evacuated and turned over the rest of the house to the National Trust.

  WEDNESDAY, 30 AUGUST. East Hendred.

  Shirley Williams for lunch from 1.30 to 4.45, all in the garden. I found her buoyant. The rumours that she was disenchanted with politics and was going to give up, although not specifically denied by her, did not seem to me to fit in with her mood, which was one of considerable commitment. She is very pro Bill Rodgers, but fairly critical of most other people, particularly David Owen, but Hattersley22 too. She thought Denis (Healey) would not become leader unless the whole thing was absolutely made for him by Callaghan. He would only succeed as heir in very propitious circumstances. He would not have enough people fighting on his side to get him through a difficult contest, and if Callaghan—as he might well if he won—stayed on two or three years, that would probably see Denis out.

  She, I think, was rather in favour of a spring than an autumn election, but not very certain about this. She was thoroughly sound on all European questions and anxious to be briefed on monetary issues, having had some quite long talks with Blumenthal (whom she had found wobbly and wavering) at Aspen where she had spent the summer, and she thought the American attitude was crucial for a UK Government decision.

  THURSDAY, 31 AUGUST. East Hendred.

  An incredibly dismal, dark, cold morning. We turned the heating on in the house and I lit a fire before lunchtime. Jennifer went to London for the day. In the evening we drove to West Wick near Pewsey to dine with the Devlins,23 who produced a (mainly) Oxford and legal dinner party with, as always, very good food and wine. Enjoyable evening.

  FRIDAY, 1 SEPTEMBER. East Hendred.

  I had a long telephone talk with Bill Rodgers, with whom I had not been in touch for some time, and also a call from Debbie Owen saying that David was very anxious to see us, which slightly surprised me.

  SATURDAY, 2 SEPTEMBER. East Hendred.

  Edmund Dells and Michael Jenkins’s to lunch. It was the first time that Edmund Dell had ever been to any house of ours, and I had asked him—strange, shy, rather silent, good man that he is—mainly because I had been told by so many people that he was unsound on monetary union. I had therefore spoken to him at the Council of Ministers in July and said that I had heard that this was so, and why was it? To which he rather sweetly replied, ‘Well, perhaps it is because you haven’t talked to me enough.’ So I thought that maybe a talking session would be a good idea. Hence the lunch.

  He proved more talkative and agreeable than I had expected on general subjects—China, music—and they were both good guests. I had a go at him on the central subject afterwards but I am not sure that I made much impression, not at the time at any rate. He produced a remarkably complicated and oversophisticated, also highly pessimistic—perhaps the two are the same—reason for his opposition. It was that he thought we would get too much German subsidy, too much German money, which would act, rather like North Sea oil, as a false cushion for us and go on making it unnecessary for British industry to make the fundamental changes, without which it was assuredly doomed.

  SUNDAY, 3 SEPTEMBER. East Hendred and Dublin.

  The end of the long holiday and, alas, almost the brightest and best morning we had had. Crispin arrived to take me to the 12.50 plane to Dublin. He appeared vigorous after his Himalayan and Tibetan holiday in spite of having been bitten by a dog in some remote Asian country and consequently having to have a series of rabies injections.

  On arrival in Dublin we drove to the hurling ground where, at the pressing invitation of the Taoiseach, we were to watch the all-Ireland championship finals. When asked to this event I had imagined that it was a sort of rustic occasion, with some traditional game being played on a village green. (I am not su
re that I was absolutely clear of the distinction between hurling and curling.) Instead of this there was a ground the size of Twickenham or Cardiff Arms Park and a crowd of seventy thousand. It was obviously a great Irish state occasion, with not only the Taoiseach (Jack Lynch) but his predecessor Liam Cosgrave, Burke (my Commission colleague) and all sorts of Irish dignitaries present in the boxes. I found the game highly enjoyable, a curious mixture of hockey, lacrosse and rugger. I got a sufficiently clear view of the form by half-time to bet Colley, the Minister of Finance, that Cork would be the victors over Kilkenny, and this was not just a wild guess. I would gladly have invested more than £5, which was what I won. However, it was a well worthwhile bet for it became much publicized, as did my part in the whole occasion, which was, I suppose, good for the Commission profile in Ireland.

  MONDAY, 4 SEPTEMBER. Dublin and London.

  Left the hotel about 10.00 to go and see the Taoiseach in his normal rather dismal offices. He did not seem on his brightest form. I think that, an old Cork hurling player himself, he was exhausted from his celebrations both at the match and in the evening with the team. He is definitely in favour of coming into the European Monetary System, but not very precise about what he wants out of it, although attaching more importance, as did his ministers subsequently, to Irish growth not being cut back than to any immediate transfer of resources or increase in the Regional Fund.

  Then a meeting with three or four of the other main ministers: mainly Monetary System but some slightly more detailed issues as well. The Irish were much less inclined to grumble than the last time I saw them, and indeed went out of their way to say that their relations with the Commission and the Community were now excellent. After a lunch given by the Taoiseach in Iveagh House, we went for a drive and a walk round Phoenix Park on a most beautiful afternoon. Then a plane to London, and Kensington Park Gardens just before 6 o’clock.

  David and Debbie Owen came for a drink. They were both thoroughly agreeable. David, although he had been rather in favour of a spring election, obviously thought that one for early October was now definitely fixed. Equally obviously he thought that he would not be Foreign Secretary after the election whatever happened, because if Labour won Healey would take over. He was rather disappointed at the thought of the election cancelling the Labour Party Conference, at which he believed he might have got a very good vote for the National Executive Committee.

  Jennifer and I then went to the Capitol Hotel for dinner with the Soames’s, at which were present, amongst others, Carringtons, Gordon Richardsons and John Harris’s. Soames very tough and firm on Europe and on the Monetary System, Gordon reticent, a bit wobbly, but not in my view too bad, Carrington rather hopeless about his ability to deal with Mrs Thatcher and indeed very depressed about the prospects, saying quite firmly that he thought she would be against and that there would not be enough pro-European strength in a Tory Cabinet to carry her along.

  TUESDAY, 5 SEPTEMBER. London and Brussels.

  To the National Westminster Bank in the City where I addressed their main board and their various regional boards (a total of about fifty people) on the EMS. 3.30 plane to Brussels and the new term.

  THURSDAY, 7 SEPTEMBER. Brussels, Rome and Bussento.

  8.40 plane to Rome. Drove to the Eden Hotel where the Italian Government had reserved a suite for us, and worked there from 11.00 until 12.30. Then to the Palazzo Chigi for a meeting with Andreotti and Forlani and three or four other people. Andreotti was on typical form, looking tired, pasty, unhealthy, but agreeable and on the ball; he hadn’t had much holiday, but I don’t think he likes holidays; and he was talking in a more clearly focused way than at our last meeting. He is eager on economic grounds, and determined on political grounds, to come into the European Monetary System, but he not unnaturally wants to get as much out of it as possible. The Italians are more specifically demanding than the Irish. The thrust of his demand, to an extent which surprised me, was on changes in the Common Agricultural Policy rather than on the transfer of resources as conventionally defined. The discussion continued over lunch with about four ministers, including Pandolfi,24 the Minister of the Treasury, whom I had met once or twice before and of whom I think very highly, until about 3 o’clock. There was an informal ‘on the hoof’ press and TV conference as we left the Palazzo Chigi.

  Hayden, Laura and I left by self-drive hired car, but with police escort, and made good progress south in deteriorating weather. As usual there were heavy downpours around the Bay of Naples. We then drove on down a very crowded and wet motorway until we turned off and began a difficult twenty-six-mile drive over the hills to arrive at Bussento (and the Bonham Carters) at 9.15.

  SUNDAY, 10 SEPTEMBER. Bussento and Rome.

  The third very good day of weather. Left after lunch for Naples (a two-and-a-half-hour drive), deposited our car at the Excelsior Hotel and were then rushed through the streets with a quite unnecessary screaming police escort to the Mergellina Station where we caught the rapido to Rome. To the Hassler Hotel and to dinner in the roof restaurant, where we were joined, at his urgent request, by Emilio Colombo. Laura feared that he was coming to complain about something—apparently we hadn’t replied to some point which he had raised in a letter. But this (as I suspected) could hardly have been less accurate. What he wanted us to do was to provide him with some facts and preferably even a draft speech for the Jean Monnet Lecture at Florence, the successor to mine of the previous year, which he was going to give and which he wanted to be as helpful as possible.

  MONDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER. Rome and Brussels.

  Breakfasted on my balcony at 7.45, looking over a slightly misty and autumnal but very warm and sunny Rome: a spectacular view. 9.45 plane. Flew in beautiful weather to about Coblenz and then bumped for twenty minutes into Brussels on as nasty a day as one could easily imagine.

  Peter Carrington to lunch. Rather a good talk with him, perhaps because he is a particularly good listener. However, he obviously thinks that if they win in the spring there is a 60–70 per cent chance of his becoming Foreign Secretary. He doesn’t totally exclude the Heath possibility but thinks it unlikely; doesn’t wholly by any means exclude the John Davies possibility either, but hopes that won’t happen. Does clearly exclude the Soames possibility, and is also unenthusiastic about the view which I canvassed to him, which I had previously canvassed to Soames the week before (where it was greeted with more enthusiasm), that Soames might become Minister of Agriculture for eighteen months or so. Carrington says this is because he thinks there couldn’t be two ministers -particularly two ministers concerned with Europe—in the Lords. (He may feel a bit that he couldn’t control Soames.) However, he was very anxious to discuss what he could most usefully do, as Foreign Secretary in a future government, in the Council of Ministers, etc., and anxious to know how he could make a favourable European impact. At the same time he was not at all confident how effectively he could direct a Conservative Cabinet in such a direction. As always he was gloomy and critical about Mrs Thatcher, and surprisingly pro David Owen.

  WEDNESDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER. Luxembourg and Brussels.

  An easy Commission meeting between 9.00 and 10.00, then into the Parliament for Genscher’s long-delayed statement on Bremen and Bonn (no previous opportunity); quite well done, not too long. I followed with twelve minutes on the same subject. I then listened to the debate both morning and afternoon, which was almost entirely devoted to the EMS. Sixteen speakers out of nineteen were in favour, and to some considerable extent seized the real issues. It was a great contrast with our December attempt to get the Parliament to debate it, when they weren’t taking it seriously.

  I took Christopher Tugendhat to lunch and found him half attracted by the idea of an outside inquiry into the Commission25 but half worried for his own portfolio responsibilities.

  I wound up the Bremen/Bonn debate with an impromptu speech of ten minutes, and then returned to Brussels by avion taxi at 7 o’clock. It was a most beautiful day in Luxembourg, not very warm
but absolutely clear sky, extremely low humidity, the first perfect day of autumn. At rue de Praetère I found Robert Marjolin whom I had asked to dine and stay the night. I had a three-hour dinner with him alone. He is an extremely nice man, looks fifty-five and is now nearly sixty-eight, on the board of a number of very high-class companies, Royal Dutch, Chase Manhattan, General Motors, American Express. He is a bit cynical, both about Europe and about French politics, but well worth talking to; I got him on to the subject of what one should do with the Commission and found him favourable to what I had in mind about an outside inquiry. He was willing to make some suggestions about names, but would not undertake it himself. ‘Like you,’ he said, ‘I am interested in policy, not in organization.’ He first suggested Pierre Dreyfus, ex-head of Renault, as a possible chairman, but then withdrew his name in favour of Witteveen, ex-Managing Director of the IMF.

  THURSDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER. Brussels.

  Lunch with Crispin for Calvo Sotelo, the Spanish Minister for European Affairs, and Bassols,26 their Ambassador; two and a quarter hours’ detailed conversation in French. However, Calvo Sotelo, as I thought in Madrid in April, is a solid, considerable, sensible man with whom to deal. We talked about a wide range of things, including not least the Giscard letter to heads of government and to me, which had arrived the previous day, proposing that ‘Three Wise Men’ look at the future of European institutions. I had known this was around for some time, and of course it was all part of the subject he had broached with me in our June talk. However, I regret the exact timing because it coincides with my idea of an outside inquiry into the Commission. However, I don’t intend to be put off because of that; his inquiry and mine have different terms of reference, and indeed a different subject.