FRANK KERMODE
671
charge, the fortunes of the paper would inevitably and irreversibly de–
cline. So it was clear within minutes that I should have to hand over my
letter of resignation and Spender's also. But King's second point was
that he did not wish me to resign; indeed, he put this so strongly that it
amounted to an attempt at prohibition. He said he thought Lasky and I
had worked well together and should continue to do so. Why he
thought that I don't know; virtually all my time on the paper had been
spent in one struggle or another, with little effect on the contents. I ex–
pressed my gratitude for this expression of confidence but affirmed that it
would make no difference to my decision, and I handed him the two
letters. Sir William then said quietly that he would resign his trusteeship
but not until the inevitable fuss died down. I understood this to be the
correct diplomatic stance, but also felt that if Hayter's resignation had
coincided with mine and Spender's, the outcome might have been differ–
ent.
King then got me to promise that 1'd say nothing to the press until
I had word that both sides might do so simultaneously. I agreed; there
seemed from my point of view nothing to be gained at this moment by
making a fuss, though later, if we should ever get funds to start the
Counter-Encounter,
the position might change. Outside the
Mirror
building Lord Goodman, who had said nothing during the meeting,
told me that I had behaved dangerously in crossing Cecil King, who
could prevent my ever getting a job in London again. Although I wasn't
in a position to deny this if what was meant was a job in journalism, I
felt confident that even if King should have thought it worthwhile to
persecute me, my academic employment was surely beyond his range. I
remain sure of that, and still wonder how so wise a man as Goodman
could have shared the popular overestimate of King's powers.
It
would now be generally agreed that it was an overestimate. Soon
after these events King was wrongly persuaded that he could topple the
Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, and replace him with Lord Mountbat–
ten. Ben Pirnlott, recording this extraordinary episode in his biography
of Wilson, remarks that "one absolutely certain way to ensure the job
security of a Labour leader is for a press baron to demand his removal."
Strangely enough, the chair to which I had been invited at University
College, London, was originally endowed by King's uncle, Alfred
Harmsworth, Lord Northcliffe; but, to compare small things with great,
I daresay that attempts to unseat me would have been equally unsuccess–
ful. The truth is probably that the degree of irritation I caused him was
far too slight to engage the interest of the great man for more than half
an hour or so. Not so long afterwards, he was himself toppled by the
