"A great party," cried Viscount Hailsham on TV last week, "is not to be brought down by a woman of easy virtue!" But the possibility was real enough.
In the House of Commons this week, Prime Minister Harold Macmillan would have to confront criticism from the Laborites, plus some barely suppressed dissent in his own party, of the way in which he handled, or mishandled, the Profumo scandal. In the long run, the Tories faced an even more elusive and insidious threat than parliamentary attacks—the facts in police dossiers and in the private lives of people who personify Conservative rule.
A Lie in the Nude. The week leading up to the debate in the Commons consisted mostly of talk—but what talk. Christine Keeler, the cause of it all, was strangely irrepressible and outwardly serene amid the tumbling of facades and the crash of reputations. Blossoming forth in ever more dazzling photographs, she became Britain's fastest-rising fallen woman. She was besieged by film and nightclub offers and incorporated herself as Christine Keeler, Ltd. She even landed, uncaptioned, on the cover of the austere Economist.
As for her mentor, Osteopath Stephen Ward, he was in jail, bound for trial on charges of living on prostitutes' earnings. The evidence, it was widely suspected, would prove damaging to a great many people.
Although the Labor Party concentrated on the security question, in public debate the Profumo case inevitably turned into a moral issue. Significantly, the unpardonable crime of ex-Secretary of State for War John Profumo was not that he was indiscreet and a potential security risk, but that he lied to the House of Commons in initially denying any relationship with Christine. Moreover, he lied stupidly, since he might have saved his dignity and his seat as an M.P. by admitting his misstep. As a limerick that made the rounds of West minster last week had it:
"What on earth have you done?" said Christine,
"You have wrecked the whole party machine.
"To lie in the nude
"Is not at all rude,
"But to lie in the House is obscene."
Serialized Sex. The Labor Party rallied for battle with enthusiasm. Returning from a week's visit to Moscow and pleasant if futile chats with Khrushchev about disarmament, Labor Party Leader Harold Wilson hinted he would produce new evidence this week to show that Britain's security system was breached. He had good reason for confidence: the Daily Mail's National Opinion Poll gave Labor its biggest lead ever: 69.2% to 19.8% over the Tories.
On his return from a golfing vacation, Macmillan's first objective was to command a united Cabinet. Calling his ministers into emergency session, he asked each man to outline privately his own view of the situation. Without exception, the 21 top Tories expressed deep dismay at the public's loss of confidence in the government. Macmillan was caught between two almost equally unpleasant possibilities. Had he known about Profumo's doings, and in that case had he not connived to some extent in his false denials? Or, despite the
War Minister's long reputation as a womanizer, had Macmillan really not known anything? In that case, had he not been naive and negligent when he accepted Profumo's defense?