French Letters

by Jonathan Miller

  Napoléon III presided over the industrialisation of France and the ascendance of the bourgeoisie. Elected the first president of the second Republic in 1848, then denied a second term, in December 1851 he seized power in a coup (with considerable popular support). The next year he engineered a referendum in which an implausible 97 per cent voted to name him Emperor. Victor Hugo famously loathed him, and was forced into exile in the Channel Islands. The catastrophic military campaign and disaster of Napoléon III’s Franco-Prussian war is pitifully rendered by Zola in his novel Débâcle. Yet it was the second empire that ushered France into the modern age. There are still Bonapartists in France but they are a tiny, indeed almost invisible minority. The best claimant to the Bonapartist legacy, Jean-Christophe Bonaparte, 28 in 2015, is the great-great-great-great-nephew of Napoléon Bonaparte, and lives in London, like so many of his compatriots. He works as an investment banker and although he attended the 200th anniversary commemorations of the Battle of Waterloo, has never pretended to the imperial throne, being comfortably installed in Sloane Square.

  A bizarre sidebar to this story is that after she was widowed, Eugénie hired one James Mortimer, an Englishman who had lived in Paris and was a friend of her family, to pursue a literary feud against her enemy Henri Rochefort, journalist and communard, who had conducted a vicious campaign against her husband including the allegation that their son was fathered by another man. Mortimer subcontracted the job to Ambrose Bierce, the brilliant American journalist, who was at the time living in Leamington. This he did with great style, noting among other acidic insults that Rochefort was ‘suffering from an unhealed wound. It is his mouth.’ Bierce was subsequently ‘commanded’ to the presence of the princess to receive her thanks. ‘My republican independence took alarm and I had the incivility to disobey; I still think it a sufficient distinction to be probably the only American journalist who was ever employed by an Empress in so congenial a pursuit as the pursuit of another journalist.’

  NATURISME

  The pleasure of nakedness

  Toplessness is de rigueur on French beaches and bottomlessness fails to startle, although many younger women are reverting to bikinis as they examine the ravages of time and gravity on the naked bodies of their mother’s less inhibited generation. France is a magnet for not just French nudists, but practitioners of nudity from everywhere in Europe and indeed most corners of the world. Naturist campsites are found throughout France but nothing compares to Europe’s largest fully-nude city, Cap d’Agde, which attracts naturists and exhibitionists from all over the world. The village caters for all tastes and there are naked shops, hotels, restaurants, boulangeries and even a post office. Without irony, the central street of the naturist village is called the avenue de la Butte. At the distant end of its famous beach is the notoriously libertine baie des cochons (bay of pigs) described by Michel Houellebecq in Les particules élémentaires (Atomised, 1998). Although Cap d’Agde was conceived half a century ago as a wholesome family resort, a municipal policeman there described it to me as ‘le plus grand bordel d’Europe’ (the biggest whorehouse in Europe). Many of the cars in the enormous car parks have British registration plates.

  NEXTRADIOTV

  Private media group

  Operator of BFM TV, a French version of Sky News, BFM Business, which is both a TV and a radio station, and RMC, the independent radio chain. NextRadioTV is the only real alternative to the public service radio and TV stations with their statist, leftist agenda. But NextRadioTV is itself compromised. Its TV operations have been massively privileged by a decision of the Conseil supérieur audiovisuel (the French broadcasting regulator) to award it the exclusive right to broadcast an over-the-air news channel, restricting its main competitor, iTELE, to subscription TV and the Internet. iTELE, owned by Vivendi, continues but with reduced staff and limited reach although the frequency award has subsequently been confused by continuing legal appeals. The NextRadioTV group is headed by Alain Weill, born 1961, a veteran broadcasting executive who is the company’s founder, chairman of the board and chief executive officer. A graduate of the Haute École de Commerce, Weill bought RMC as a failing business and turned it around by buying exclusive rights for the 2002 football World Cup for 500,000 euros, then refocusing the station on news, talk shows and sports. Although nobody can survive without patrons in high places in France, Weill has been shrewd and although he has not balked at taking advantage of the regulations, his stations do provide a centrist antidote to the leftist output of France Inter and the anodyne news broadcast by France Televisions. BFM Business is especially sharp at exposing the contradictions that handicap French business and its journalists cover many subjects that France Inter does not recognise.

  NI NI

  Neither, nor

  Pronounced ‘knee-knee’. Dozens of examples of this double negation have embedded themselves into French political and social discourse. Ni Sarkozy, ni Le Pen - (a plea to vote for the Socialist party, i.e., for neither Nicolas Sarkozy nor Marine Le Pen); Ni putes ni soumises - neither whores nor doormats, a French feminist movement; Ni ingérance, ni indifference - President Valéry Giscard-d’Estaing’s (VGE) 1977 description of French policy towards independence for Quebec, meaning that France will remain neutral but not indifferent to the debate over Quebecois independence.

  NOIR, LE

  The black economy

  A rare healthy sector of French economy, the ‘black’ underground economy is huge but of course illegal. A third of French people admit to having undeclared income. It’s estimated that 14 per cent of French people work off the books. It is likely the economy would collapse entirely without it. It is impossible to capture a full picture of what are inevitably millions of private arrangements by which goods and services are exchanged for cash (liquide). The inspecteurs du travail (labour inspectors) boast of their successes shutting down illicit corners of the economy, but it can be argued that without the black economy acting as a pressure valve for the otherwise suppressed practice of working, France might grind to a complete standstill. Even the government employs people on the black. The Ministry of Justice paid 40,000 temporary workers wihtout deducting taxes or adding social charges.

  NORMAL, PAS

  grave accusation

  The French and English versions of this word have different meanings. In French, to be not normal is to be wrong. It does not mean the same thing as normal in English where being not normal means being unusual. In French, an accusation of non-normality, ce n’est pas normal (that’s not normal), can be reinforced by adding, ça ne se fait pas (it isn’t done). To be not normal is a serious complaint, verging on an accusation of misconduct.

  NOTAIRES

  Yet another Lawyer with a monopoly

  Notaires are lawyers who deal with property and inheritance. For all the criticism, property conveyancing in France is usually reliable. There are very few cases like those common in Spain where people who buy houses can subsequently be dispossessed due to irregularities in the transfer. Emmanuel Macron, the economy minister, wants to open conveyancing to competition since many other ordinary lawyers say they can do it equally well and cheaper but the notaire profession has mounted a stiff defence. If the notaries are as smart and specialised and vital as they claim, why would they not prosper in any case? Their protests sound feeble and defeatist.

  O

  OBÉSITÉ

  French people are not so fat

  France is the 128th fattest country in global corpulence ranking and has the lowest obesity rate in Europe. Even if McDonald’s serves one million meals a day, many French families seem still to sit down and eat lunch and dinner together, instead of having an all day meal like corpulent Britons or Americans.

  OCCUPATION

  Collaborators

  In 2014 I suggested to my mayor that we organise a colloquium (une conférence) to celebrate the 70th anniversary of the liberation of our village towards the end of World War Two. There are still a few villagers who remember the events o
f 1944 and I naïvely thought it might be a chance to allow them to share their recollections. I was ready to organise the event and expected a warm reception for the proposal. The mayor looked pained. ‘Jonathan,’ he said, ‘it’s really too sensitive’ (‘ça reste trop tendu’). In particular, he noted the numerous German people who now live in the village who might be offended. Such an event could re-open too many old wounds, he said. But there was more to his reticence than he acknowledged. It was not the Germans in the village who would find such an event uncomfortable. I know, because I asked them. It was the French.

  For most of the war, our village was spared the worst. After almost 100 village men had perished in the Great War from 1914-1918, there wasn’t much stomach for a fight. The German occupation in 1942 barely changed the rhythm of life. Dozens of Jews were deported from some of the nearby villages, but they were arrested by the French police, not the Germans. Nobody was deported from our own commune although some of the village men were prisoners of war in Germany where they worked as farm labourers. German soldiers were billeted in the village, some of them even housed in my chai (winery). They were hardly frontline troops and their relationship with the villagers was correct. They drank bad wine in the village cafés, for which they were cheerfully overcharged. There were sporadic episodes of resistance nearby, but few villagers were involved.

  In the spring of 1944, as the invasion of Europe approached, everything changed. On May 12, British Halifax bombers based in Tunisia dropped containers of weapons and gold coins to the resistance group Bir Hakeim, who were based in a remote, abandoned chateau near the nearby village of Cabrières. The containers missed their target and fell close to my village. German soldiers manning an observation post in the church tower saw the drop and summoned reinforcements and a race began to recover the containers. Neither the resistance nor the Germans were to recover the prime prize. The container of gold was found by several villagers, who hid their loot in a well. After the war, they were able to buy land and businesses at knock-down prices. One family moved to Paris.

  The Germans arrived soon after the airdrop. The maquis (resistance), well-concealed and knowing every nook and cranny in the countryside, killed nine German soldiers. The French officer, a 23-year-old named Lieutenant Jean Lucas, bravely led the assault, and was killed. A German column was sent up the route nationale from Béziers with orders to teach the village a lesson. But the local German commander in the village, a monocled Prussian officer who had spent the war happily cohabiting with a local girl, persuaded his superior to withdraw. Three weeks later, the Allies invaded Normandy and the atmosphere in the village became supercharged. The resistance was launching frequent attacks on the Germans nearby, but many of the resisters were denounced and massacred. By the summer, the liberation was imminent but there was one final horror to come in the triangle of three villages of which our commune is a part.

  On the night of August 15, 1944, ten British soldiers of the Special Operations Executive parachuted into the hills with orders to make contact with the resistance. One of them, Lt Peter Fowler, a Royal Fusilier, aged 25, joined two French gendarmes and began making his way to the resistance headquarters at Cabrières. On the way, on the road into the village of Fontès, they ran into a column of German troops. The three fled into the vineyards, chased by the occupiers. All were brought down in a fusillade. In a particularly disgusting episode which is still recalled with horror by villagers, the Germans then shot each of them in the head.

  Days later, the first French army arrived in Montpellier, and in the Languedoc, the war was over. The remaining Germans withdrew to the north, leaving mayhem in their wake, most notably in the village of Oradour-sur-Glane in Limousin, where German troops massacred 642 people including women and children. Thirteen of the German soldiers were said to be malgré-nous (against-our-will) conscripts from Alsace, which had been annexed by Germany, others say they were willing French volunteers.

  How to remember these events? The grandchildren of the German officer’s girlfriend still live here. As do some of the families whose ancestors stole the gold. Outside Fontès, hidden in the vines, there are memorials to Peter Fowler and the two gendarmes who perished at his side. On the flank of an ancient volcano in our own village, there is a well-tended memorial to Lt. Lucas. Fowler’s body was recovered and is buried in the cemetery at Mourèze where it is the only Commonwealth War Grave in the churchyard. Nearby is a memorial to the 105 members of the maquis who also died in the liberation struggle. Every year, British residents put poppies on Fowler’s memorial and headstone.

  In Britain, World War Two is remembered as the ultimate expression of national solidarity and there is little nuance to the memories. Here in our corner of France, it is all much more complicated. Memories are painful and often shameful. It was hard to be heroic. Most people were neither collaborators nor resistants, but simply struggled to keep their heads down and protect their families. Some collaborated. Others were opportunists and profited handsomely. Some were victims. It is difficult to imagine that had the Germans invaded Britain we would have behaved any differently. The events in our village were particular but not unique. They reflect the broader history of France during the occupation and even now, the memories unsettle.

  OGM

  Food of the devil

  Organismes génétiquement modifiés (genetically modified organisms)are outlawed in France due to the paranoia of ecologists who consider all such innovations to be an Anglo-Saxon plot and have intimidated the government into maintaining an outright prohibition in the absence of any scientific evidence of harm.

  P

  PACTE DE RESPONSABILITÉ ET DE SOLIDARITÉ

  Broken promise, failed reform

  The notion that employment can be created simply because the government orders it is particularly French. Announced in 2013 by President François Hollande, this was a grand bargain by which private industry would create 500,000 jobs in return for a lowering of social charges. Naturally, the CGT union (still essentially controlled by the Communist party, although this is ritually denied) rejected the idea. Other elements of the plan were rejected by the Senate. Still further elements were declared out of order by the conseil constitutionnel (constitutional council).

  PAIN

  Still a small glory

  Twenty-five years ago I had the idea of opening a bagel shop in Paris which I intended to call Fabrique nationale de bagels. French friends told me this was an insane idea as nobody would ever persuade the French to consume anything so barbaric. This was bad advice as there are now bagel shops all over Paris (bagel with foie gras is a speciality) and even in the south I can buy quite good frozen bagels (and Philadelphia cream cheese to smear upon them). The best of these frozen bagels claim to have been baked in the Bronx.

  The totemic French loaf, the baguette (literally, a stick), must by law be made from basic lean flour which has a low protein content. This is quite different from the strong flour used in British bakeries. The shape is designed to bake quickly, allowing the baker to sleep a little bit later before preparing for the morning rush. The nature of the prescribed flour is that a baguette has a half life of only a few hours. A day-old baguette can be cut into cubes and fried in olive oil to make croûtons, but otherwise is rock hard and good mainly for bird food.

  Only a bakery constructing bread from its basic elements can describe itself as a boulangerie. Other shops that reheat frozen dough are not entitled to this status. The best boulangeries in France have diversified well beyond the traditional baguette and the standard accompanying loaves such as the pain complet (whole wheat) or pain de campagne (country loaf). Most towns boast artisan bakers offering dozens of loaves made with speciality flours. Bakers as a trade seem often to be more enterprising than other French merchants, opening longer and in some cases 7 days a week (although this has been cracked down upon by the employment inspectors). Some have boldly added wine and catering counters to their shops.

  Even as bagels have begun
to infiltrate France, the French retain a strongly positive balance of trade in bread. The best-known French baker, Paul, maison de qualité fondée in 1889, is active in Europe, Africa, the Middle East, the United States and Asia with more than 500 sales points and 100,000 employees. Founded near Lille in the north of France, the chain is ubiquitous but less prestigious in France than elsewhere. Because much of the bread and dough is prepared in commissaries, it is not strictly speaking a boulangerie. Paul tends to operate in railway stations and autoroute service areas in France, whereas it has installed itself in well-fitted shops in posh neighbourhoods in London and Singapore. It presents itself as a family business but is part of the gigantic Groupe Holder, which also owns the equally faux Ladurée. Real boulangeries face numerous challenges including cut-price supermarket bread (often terrible, sometimes not bad) and a diet-obsessed populace that consumes less starch than it used to. Still, a fine boulangerie in France will attract queues.

  PANTHÉON

  Posh adress for dead people

  Most exclusive mausoleum in Paris, other than Napoléon’s tomb at Les Invalides (whose overwhelming enormity is, one must suppose, designed to ensure that the tyrant remains entombed for eternity). A Republican temple, the Panthéon is housed in a deconsecrated church. How do you get in? Obviously it helps to be dead, but also to be male. Only one woman is interred there on her own merit, other than as a spouse, and that is Marie Curie, the Polish-born physicist who discovered radium and polonium. She was lucky to get in since it does say clearly on the inscription above the door: Aux grands hommes la Patrie reconnaissante (The homeland recognises its great men). For those unable to rest for eternity at the Panthéon, an acceptable and perhaps funkier alternative is the Père-Lachaise cemetery in eastern Paris whose residents include Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde.