France, May 1968: A revolution diary

PERSONAL COLUMN NANCY MITFORD

Nancy Mitford (Mrs Peter Rodd) lives about a mile from Versailles. Further extracts from her diary will appear in next week's SPECTATOR.

16 May We have heard the young leaders on Tv for three quarters of an hour.

It was very tiring. There is a fat boy whose name I didn't hear; the other two are suitably named Sauvageot and Cohn-Bandit. People's names are so often suitable: Montgomery, Alexander, de Gaulle, Wilson, Brown and so on. Sauvageot apes Robespierre, cold and quiet, swine.

17 may- Thierry came to lunch, full of Paris gossip and bringing brochures and so on from Germany where he has just been and where I am going. in August in search of Frederick the Great. No political talk except he said, 'If the workers come out seriously it Kill be a nuisance.'

Bertrand says that there is no revolutionary spirit. But I say there never is at the beginning. All is bonhomie at first. Tough stuff comes later. I have a feeling we may be at one of those moments in history when the authorities- can't do right.

18 May Lucy rang up. She has put on the Phrygian bonnet. Went to the Sor- bonne dressed as a student. As she is my age could hurry out and send them some. There to go away for the weekend.

was a great deal of wailing about their treat- ment by the police. I despise them for it. They were out for a rough-up and they got it. Nobody was killed and now they are behaving like babies who have been slapped. It's not very dignified.

The postman has made our blood run cold by saying 'tout va changer.' He comes an hour late and dumps the neighbour's letters, and I must say mine, in my box. Madame Pines said to Marie, my old servant, 'What is the General waiting for? As soon as he has gone everything will be all right.' I told Marie to remember that this lady is a most fearful idiOt. She is the only person I know down here who is against the General. But then to be quite honest she is the only real have-not that I know. Even so her little flat is adorable and with her work and her late husband's pension she is absolutely corn- furtable.

Frank and Kitty came from Paris to see me at eleven. Very friendly of them. Frank thinks we are having one of those periodic student upsets which France has always known. He doesn't think it's serious. He is a clever man, knows France and French history, but I well remember that in May 1958 he never expected the return of the General. I said to him at that time 'Frank, surely after the press conference you must have realised that it was inevitable?' and he said (very honestly), `No.'

Miss Sweeney came to tea. She had been to the Château. She says it beats Chatsworth. she must have looked odd. Said they were all so beautiful and so polite. The Sorbonne seems to have become a tourist attraction.

General strike so as I haven't got a car I am stuck here. Very good for work. The wireless has been taken over and the announcers who used to seem such dears have suddenly become extremely frightening. They rattle out bad news like machine guns. The French seem to have turned into Gadarene The Canfields were to have come for luncheon. I waited until two. They must have forgotten or they would have telephoned. Oh well, never mind.

At three Nicholas Lawford came to talk about Frederick the Great and we had a very enjoyable historical gossip. He says the R—s are as red as can be. I am not at all surprised. A good deal of bandwagoning in progress, I note. He says Paris is intolerable and he is off to Germany—back in ten days.

Dear M Dubois came to do some odd jobs. He is very depressing. He says the workers have all got over-excited and thinks the Communists will soon be in power. His colleagues will prob- ably strike on Wednesday. Like my Renault workers, he is entirely against but what can one do? He installed a Calor gas cooker for us for when the current fails. Very sweet with old Marie who is beginning to be frightened.

The wireless is terrifying. If the Bac were not always so utterly wrong about French affairs I would listen to it, but what is the good? They understand nothing. The Figaro still appears, screaming `do something' to the government like a hysterical woman whose house is on fire.

Marie tells her beads whenever there's nothing else to do. I am afraid that I think like Frederick the Great that God exists but leaves us pretty well alone to make our muddles while we are here. No good bothering Him, I'm afraid. 'Mrs Rodd is on the line again, Almighty.' Tell her to get or. with her work.'

21 May That ghastly old windbag Francois- Poncet and Daninos provide the two leaders in this morning's Figaro. How in- spiring.

The bourse, quite good yesterday. has shut up shop now and so have the banks. I can live on Marie's savings so don't need to worry.

I rang up Henry. He says that last night some youths dumped a lot of arms in his courtyard saying they would come back for them later. `Frankly Nancy one blow with that iron bar would finish one off.' Rang up and told Bodley. Both screaming and she rang up Henry about Simon Raven's 'Personal Column' has been held over. Having said how much they despised every- has got to, and that's that. It seems Renault

20 May 19 May

an hour after I'd spoken but he'd already left for Belgium. Bodley and I think we'll dress up as students like Lucy and go to his flat and take away the Sevres.

The garden is full of baby pigs shivering with cold, poor little things.

Bertrand thinks a way will be found but that it will be a very long business. I tell about Henry. Bertrand: 'One can't be too careful' I said 'Yes, he took one look at the iron bar.' Bertrand: 'Iron bars do not a prison make, am 1 not brilliant?'

No butter in the rue de Montreuil so I went to the market where there is masses. The Tri- colour is still flying over the Lyc6e Hoche and all the boys seem to be there but discussing in- stead of doing their lessons. What a bore it must be. Some of the ones hanging about out- side are wearing armbands and pansies in their buttonholes. On the way back I met Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle Saclay and we walked home together. They say everybody has gone mad. Mademoiselle, who is studying to be a chemist, is striking. The third striker that I have met—all unwilling.

I went to see the Lebruns. Madame Dupont, Madame Lebrun's sister and her husband were there. Madame Lebrun looking too lovely and about sixteen. She's got five or six good little children wandering in and out. How awful to think that very soon they will be students. A great deal of talk, pro-Gaullist and Catholic, getting nowhere except M Lebrun said it would be better if the motion de censure were voted as then there would be general elections and we'd know where we stand. I said the mini- mum wage here is far too small. Madame Dupont said, 'Yes, but when you come to look into the facts every family has some other un- declared source of income. The wife takes in sewing or goes out cleaning. The husband goes out as a waiter and so on.' I said 'Yes, here in Versailles, but probably not in the big work- ing class conglomeration because who would give them extra work to do there?' La Croix has been saying for years you must not segre- gate the workers and the bourgeoisie and that seems elementary, and yet the segregation goes on happening.

I came back here and saw the debate in the Chambre on television. Two excellent speeches by Poujade, who seems quite remarkable, and Duhamel. Billeres not bad but far too long. At one moment after the end of his speech he got up to answer Pompidou's observations and Marie said 'Mince alors. it revient.' It looks as though the government will win comfortably but the wireless says the General won't be allowed to organise a referendum.

Moscow says the French workmen are trying to go too far. Of course the wireless doesn't relay that. Figaro drearier and more annoying than ever. I wish there was a reasonable morning paper but there isn't. I've tried them all. lx Mande is first class but I never want to read newspapers in the afternoon.

Marie, who has become rather bold, said this morning in the dairy, -All these strikes are or- ganised and the men have to come out whether they like it or not.' A young woman with a baby said 'You are quite right. There's a little factory here where nobody was on strike. They came and told the men to come out. The men went to the patron and said, "We've got nothing against you but we've got to come out": Bodley has gone to Paris to see the fun— partly, too, because of the cold. The English wireless says the temperature today won't rise above eleven degrees. Our meteorological office

22 May

is on strike. No great loss. Bodley says a few days ago Henry said, 'So how is Bertrand taking it?"0h, Nancy says he's shrieking with laughter as usual.' Henry: 'Frankly, Bodley, I wonder if he is. I believe if Nancy saw you and me in a tumbril she would say "Oh, they were shriek- ing with laughter".' I said well probably you would be. There's always something to laugh at.

I'm still living on the Canfields' pot au feu at every meal. Rang up the Catescos, a Ruman- ian couple who managed to get out a year or two ago, to see if they're all right. No answer.

I expect they've buggered back to the now soar- ing Rumania. Don't blame them.

The mother tit has taken the family off. Quite right. They were being hunted by three cats. But we are deprived of a great amusement. The excellent Societe d'Assistance aux Betes d'A bat- tOir to which I subscribe has rescued all the livestock out of the immobile trains so that's a weight off one's mind.

23 May Château half expecting to see

I went yesterday afternoon to the Florence van der Kemp on the balcony. But the situation there is more like that of the days after the royal family had left. The Château empty and shut up, not a soul on the terrace, only the gardeners still working. Cold like winter. The orange trees looked miserable. Before going up there I saw Pompidou making his speech to the Assembly on the television—perfectly excellent, spoke for over an hour without notes. Nearly all the deputies read their speeches and the effect is very dull. Pisani has ratted. He hasn't got a beard for nothing.

Peter de Polnay telephoned. They live in an hotel at St Germain-des-Pres. He says they are all right and he feels everything will be.

Emmanuel de la Taille reappeared on the tele- vision looking rather ruffled I thought. Perhaps he has had a day or two in the cooler. Lion Zitrone, whom Dolly used to be in love with, hasn't been seen of late. All the nasty-looking men who rap out the news like machine guns are fairly new. They don't seem to shave as well as they used to. But at luncheon-time we had the charming Jacqueline Baudrier who reports parliamentary proceedings. She looks worried but not a pin out of place.

The Figaro hardly gives any space to last night's speeches but yatters on about la fete des meres--will it or won't it be put off?—and one of the leaders is an article on the little snatches of song to which Napoleon was addicted. What an awful paper it is.

The new Archbishop of Paris speaks of much misery. It's so strange—where is this misery? One sentence recurs among all my modest friends here: 'La France a Ile trop heureuse.' My impression for several years now has been that France is almost entirely bourgeoise. Marie's father was a very poor peasant and his children were brought up almost hungry. But her nephews and nieces are more than well off. All with motor-cars and little weekend houses.

The Saclays came for a glass of champagne before dinner. They are very optimistic, say that the workers see the holidays approaching and also pay day. He says the first few days people stayed at home and there was hardly any- body in his shop. Now they are used to the situation and come as usual but he is beginning to lack certain things. The deliverers were leav- ing to make their rounds when some men from St Cyr came and told them to strike.

The dustmen still come here to take away our rubbish. Something to remember when giv- ing Christmas boxes.

24 May More trouble with the students last

night. Cohn-Bandit is not being allowed back from Germany. A move which seems to me fatal but is wildly applauded by everybody here. I can just imagine the fun he'll have getting in—which of course he will. Lovely cloak and dagger stuff, and then how will they ever dig him out of the Sorbonne?

All night a pitched battle raged around Jean de Gaigmeron's house. I hope he's gone away. These battles are a nightmare for those in nearby houses because of the tear gas which seeps in and can't be got out for ages. Marie says all these young people seem very ma! eleve. Tony Gandarillas rang. He says Jean had an awful night and the streets are still full of gas.

Went to the market. Never saw so much food. Bought chicory for Marie who can't find it here and craves it. How can she? Things seem a shade more hopeful, I should say.

25 May The General was perfect last night.

After the flood of words we've been treated to of late, it was a relief to hear some- thing short, sharp and to the point. But I've got a feeling that he is fed up. Though he will do his duty of course for as long as he can.

I've just turned on the wireless. It seems they had another sick night in Paris. Fouchet made a statement. He says the ',Ores have crept out from under the stones. I remember Bodley once talking to a French friend about the Com- mune and saying, 'What can have happened to all those savages who, such a little time ago, set fire to everything and skinned live horses in the streets?' They are still there,' he replied. The men of General Leclerc's division have issued a statement to say that they didn't liberate Paris in order to see it destroyed from within and are ready at any time to come and keep order. Mendes-France, gloating over the riots from a balcony, said the police have got an un- fair advantage. Thank God. Bertrand says the problem is democratic. There are too many young people and they are turning against the old everywhere.

I note that the fete des meres is to take place tomorrow, which seems inappropriate as the whole thing is the fault of these wretched mothers for having such vast families and for bringing them up so badly. I'd love to have a few words with Cohn-Bandit's mother. Bodley says she saw two people beating dogs yesterday. Unheard of here. Can this mean a return to discipline and might it extend to children? I simply long to see somebody frowning at a

child. I often think the worst part of being a child nowadays must be the silly smiles on everybody's faces.

Pompidou was marvellous on the telly at lunchtime. He is more impressive every time one sees him.

I've got masses of champagne and no mineral water, so if the tap gives out Marie and I will be permanently drunk. What a picture. Spent the afternoon deadheading buttercups. I'm read- ing Lady Cynthia Asquith—don't think her as bad as I believe the reviewers did though I dis- like the person who emerges. I haven't seen an English paper for a fortnight, though Bodley Nigel Dennis for me. managed to get the Sundays and is keeping Lion Zitrone reappeared on the

26 May television last night smiling and pimpant. But this morning all the RIF journal. ists are on strike, saying the news they have to give is not objective. That beats me—there has been a running river of communist propa- ganda for a week. Perhaps they want to keep

Pompidou off the air.

The General told the new American ambas- sador that the future belongs to God, but the Archbishop who broadcast last night never mentioned God. He only spoke of material things like wages. Though at the end he said that Christians could pray. Marie didn't notice the oddity of this and I didn't point it out. Madame Saclay says it's the new style in the Church. The accent is no longer on God but on living conditions. I got her on her own and asked if Suzanne (the daughter) had been sur- prised by the revolt of her fellow students. She says Suzanne is deeply religious and takes every- thing calmly but she has been saying for a long time now that the boys—though not the girls —have been spoiling for a fight. Madame Saclay, like many people here, thinks the unrest comes from a physical desire for violence. Young friends of ours from the Argentine who until recently had been living in the Cite des Arts, an annexe of the university, and who still go about with students, told Bodley that so far from foreseeing events they were astounded by them. They had a" horrid frightening time when lunatics surged into their street and set fire to the dustbins. Our faithful dustman still comes, by the way.

Marie dreamed all night of the General. She worries about him. I wonder if he knows how much people like her love him.

I went to see my friend from Renault's. His wife has shut up her little postcard kiosk as there is no trade. An Institutaire and his wife were there. The usual talk of what is it all about. Christien, the black plan who sells vegetables and is the pet of the whole street, says de Gaulle must go. Although pitch he was a French colon in Algeria, and, of course, they are out for revenge. I have done a bit of telephoning. Les gees du monde seem quite philosophical, saying 'Very well; we must now make up our minds to live as the Swedes do—much more simply and do our own cooking.' In that case I shall starve to death as I can't cook—who cares?

Poujade has won his municipal election at Dijon getting 6,800 votes more than he got last Sunday. Nobody that I have seen has the slightest doubt that the General will win his referendum.

What a volcano this country is! Of course one knows it may erupt at any moment; but as with real volcanoes the soil is so rich and so fertile in every way that having once lived here any alternative seems unthinkable.