THE SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK

Mei / Passing by the British Museum the other day I was struck, and moved, by its sign: ' THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Admission Free,' and I felt momentarily ashamed that I had agreed with those who wish to Impose charges for admission to museums. In Venice during August I had paid what I first thought to be a wholly exorbitant amount to see the fine exhibition of the art of Venice now superbly mounted in the galleries of the Piazza San' Marco. Then I had reflected that the staging of the exhibition had to be paid for, and that the cost of admission was, in fact, a necessary reflection of quality, a reminder to me that a great deal of men's work and love and genius had contributed to my pleasure, and no more (for six of us) than I would casually hand over for a round of drinks. Indeed tea for six at the Cafe Florian in the piazza, after the exhibition, cost more; and all we got were some indifferent cakes and watery tea. But the British Museum sign, 'Admission Free,' has an undoubtedly fine ring to it; and I am now inclined to the view that the major national collections, held by trustees on behalf of the public, and bought or Plundered from almost all the nations of the world, should be freely accessible to one and all. Specially-mounted exhibitions are different matters; and there is every reason to charge admission to them. Local Museums, too, may benefit from admission Charges.

Hybrid fiscal course

Andrew FauIds, the flamboyantly vulgar Member of Parliament for Smethwick, bearded actor, gross viveur, and Opposition spokesman for the Arts, is a man whose company I prefer and value above hIS opinions (which are usually as insubstantial to my mind as his carcase is substantial to all eyes). He has sent a Memorandum to Lord Eccles and to the chairman and trustees of the National and the Tate Galleries about the proposed imposition of admission charges to these two galleries. His long argument is, briefly, that if the Government wish to impose additional taxation by charging admission, the receipts from which ;re to go to the Treasury, then they should introduce appropriate fiscal ligislation; if the desire is to allow the Trustees of the galleries to keep the receipts for the good of the galleries, then the Government should negotiate. What the Government should not do, Faulds argues, is what itIs doing — "pursuing a third course, a hybrid between the other two, in which the Trustees. are being pressurized to misuse their existing powers in order to take action which is arguably ultra vires, with the additional disadvantage that in so doing they cannot but forfeit in the future ihe degree of independence which was rightly theirs in the past."

Forfeited respect

The argument is strong. Between 1921 and 1924 admission charges were imposed, but the receipts went to the Trustees. On the face of it, it seems quite improper that money destined for the Treasury, and which can rightly be thought of as a tax, should be imposed by Trustees acting upon the request, no more, of the Minister responsible for the Arts. Such a minister might be expected to be the defender and upholder of the arts in the Government. It is not surprising that in a recent editorial in Apollo, the editor, Mr Denys Sutton, should have written that Lord Eccles no longer commands the respect of the artistic community.

Poor old Jo

The Liberal party conference has been and gone and for all the difference it has made, makes and will make it might as well never have happened. It is sad. I cannot agree with Hugh Reay's sentiments in these pages last week which suggested that the absence of the 'integrity' of men like Jo Grimond had something to do with the end of the party. My own feeling, unlike Lord Reay's, is that Grimond killed off what was left of the once-great party. I don't know about his integrity. But Grimond has always seemed to me to be regarded, without any justification, by one and all, and not least by himself and his immediate family, as an important and clever and influential man. He was and I dare say still is a man for all telly seasons.

The Liberal party has represented no serious interest for many years. Had it spoken for those people who wish for cheap food, free trade, and the preservation of the traditional liberties and national identity of the country, then it might well have occupied a position not less influential than that held by Enoch Powell.

Gone are the days. I hear the gentle voices calling "poor old Jo," and now, alas, "poor old Jeremy, too."

31 years later

, Waiting for an Underground train I glanced at a tobacconist's stall and saw a notice advertising brands of cigarettes whereby, if bought in 60s rather than the usual 20s or 10s, 3p was saved. It always annoyed me that cigarettes, unlike virtually every other commodity, did not come cheaper when bought in bulk. I thus approved of the commercial enterprise behind the notice. Then I thought that someone with sixty cigarettes in his pocket would almost certainly smoke them at a faster rate than if he had only twenty or ten. So I disapproved Of the physical effect of the temptation.

I made no attempt to resolve the contradictions in my attitude, and settled down in the train to read a magazine. Suddenly I leaned slightly sideways and to the left, in order the more easily to fumble in my right-hand jacket pocket for a packet of cigarettes, feeling like a smoke. I realized with distinct shock what I was doing when I found neither cigarette packet there nor any matches. It is three and a half years since I stopped smoking, yet still the habit, the instinctive movements, could be revived, presumably prompted by a tempting advertisement.

Test ban television

With all the authority of an ex-chain smoker, I add this: that it is a waste of time banning cigarette advertising on television while allowing cigarettes and pipes and so forth to be smoked in television programmes. In my smoking days, whenever I saw someone light up on a cinema or television screen, then so did I. It would be most interesting to have a test ban on smoking in front of the cameras, if only to discover which of the performers could survive the deprivation.

In praise of recent weather

An English girl living in New York writes to that great city's eponymous magazine, justifying the time she has dallied there, "American weather is very honest. None of this British nonsense where the seasons don't know when to take their cues. Gray and damp though the English winter may be, it's preferable to the summer, which is a total myth." The English girl should have experienced the last few days of late summer, or early autumn, and especially the early mornings of lightening mist. Weather such as this, with a sufficient heat in the day and the right edge of premonitory chill to the evening, and with the leaves yellowing, is incomparable; and beats the undoubted splendours of the American fall. It is true that our weather is unreliable; but that is its great strength. Who wants monotonous, honest, dull, good weather all the time?