Tale of Two Cities

The centuries-old relationship between London and Paris has had more bad than good moments, and even in its present phase of partnership is marked by each nation's fear that the other will become either too strong--or too weak. For the past five months London has been eying Paris with especial nervousness. As senior man in office, Prime Minister Harold Macmillan had every right to expect that new Premier de Gaulle should make the first visit to him in London. Instead, last week, as a gesture of good will, Macmillan flew to Paris. Obviously pleased, protocol-conscious General de Gaulle, who rarely leaves his own office when he is in Paris, drove out to the airport in his shiny new Citroen DS 19 to greet his English visitorj in person.

Long suspicious of De Gaulle's fondness for grandeur, the British government early decided that it preferred him to a government run by paratroop colonels or to the old harebrained parliamentary system, which proclaimed its loyalty to the Atlantic alliance but was often a drag on it. Some British officials nonetheless feared that he might renew his vision of France Alone, and try to negotiate separately with the Soviet Union.

Getting Together. Over port and whisky at Paris' Hotel Matignon last week, the two Prime Ministers reminisced amiably about their World War II experiences in North Africa. When they got down to business, the British were pleased by De Gaulle's grasp of what they consider present-day realities. He seemed aware that France was not pulling its weight in NATO, but wanted to exact more say for France in Atlantic councils as his price for more cooperation. The British listened with what diplomats call sympathy (concealing their private misgivings) to De Gaulle's insistence that France has a "vocation" to become a nuclear power. They tried to suggest, from their own experience, how costly nuclear weaponry could get (De Gaulle, in talks with John Foster Dulles later in the week, counted on the U.S. to help out with know-how and materials). Apparently British "sympathy" was mistaken for support. MACMILLAN: YES TO FRENCH ABOMB, crowed the Paris-Journal, to the discomfiture of the British delegation.

But the British also returned to London reassured by the atmosphere of the French government, concluding that this change was well worth the price of a more difficult and demanding ally.

Change in Fortune. For Harold Macmillan himself, the trip to Paris was one more indication of a change in his own personal fortunes. In his first year in office, after inheriting Sir Anthony Eden's debacle at Suez, he was regarded by many as a stopgap Prime Minister, grabbed out of the Edwardian era. His debonair manner annoyed as many as it pleased. Three months ago, scarcely a Tory could be found who looked upon his party's future with anything but dread. Insiders respected Macmillan's parliamentary skill, but the image did not get over to the country. Now the British press is full of praise for able, self-contained Harold Macmillan. He was applauded for his personal triumph in the U.S., his handling of the Cyprus debates, his successful policy of waiting out the London bus strike, and for two recent TV appearances that established an image of a confident and high-spirited leader.

The steady decline of Tory strength in by-elections seems at last arrested. The Labor opposition has shown itself sterile in and uncertain in leadership. One by one the Tory Suez rebels have been drifting back, and the latest Daily Express poll showed that while only 48% of those questioned last February were "satisfied with Macmillan as P.M.," the figure now stands at 52%. If Macmillan keeps up, the Tories may well be able to look forward to a 1960 election with something other than dread.

In both London and Paris, management seemed to be in firmer hands.

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