I have always loved France –close enough to home to be accessible, far enough away to be different, holidays there were fun and full of the nicest things possible; cheeses, wines, meats, restaurants, boulangeries, beaches, interesting and helpful locals –well, maybe not the last one. One year we were holidaying in Languedoc,went to la plage and set about frolicking in the sea, tanning on the sands and trying not to peer too long at the topless French ladies –fwoarr! With a keen eye for a quick franc, the local supermarket had set up a stall in the car park for waffeur-thin steak et frites and we happily queued. Grabbing my newly fried frites, I proceeded to cover them all in lovely French tomato ketchup only to summarily squirt the biggest massive splurge of said red sauce all over the poor seller’s crotch (much to his severe annoyance): the container having just been refilled, the nozzle pointed away from my lovely chips.
Such an unfortunate incident, I think, properly illustrates our trans-marche relationship. More often than not, les anglais have squirted their tomato ketchups (and worse) onto the noble Gallic crotches (and other tender parts) and this has led to war. And just as jobbing steak frites sellers have cursed the holidaying rosbifs, so the kings, emperors and presidents of the nation of franks have cursed their cousins across the water: the last 1000 years have been punctuated with at times incredibly violent international relations. But we are the best of friends now, n’est-ce pas?
Stephen Clarke has made this slightly weighty (517 pages) romp through history about as entertaining as a English-type who lives and works in France could. What’s catchy is the way in which each well-known Franco-British historical scene is set up with the usual accompanying myths and legends only to have them re-examined and re-explained from the perspective of our divergent yet mutual histories. Beginning with the wicked exploits of William the Conqueror (who was not French actually, but Norman –about as French as the next Dane) and concluding at the right royal diplomatic faux pas of 2008 meted out on Nicolas Sarkozy which involved showing him lots of pictures of Waterloo (the battle, not the station), the book is a joy to read. It’s obvious that he’s used up his two years compiling these stories in lots of reading. Each chapter, however, has that I’ve-just-read-a-few-books-about-this-topic-therefore-I-will-write-about-it feel to it and the book occasionally seems a little formulaic.
Here’s a few of Clarke's important historical observations:
· William the Conqueror died whilst fighting the French
· Joan of Arc was tried and sentenced by the French
· The Burghers of Calais were not executed by the English (or even at all)
· Mary Queen of Scots was, to all intents and purposes, a French princess
· France lost America because of a cow
· The English invented champagne
· The guillotine was invented in Halifax
· The stormed Bastille contained only 7 prisoners –four forgers, two lunatics and one count accused of helping his sister run away from her husband
· Napoleon nearly became an English mariner
· The French did not invent croissants, baguettes or steaks grillés
· The innocent sounding WWI song, ‘Parley-vouz’, is about patriotic French Mademoiselles who serviced British soldiers hundreds at a time
· de Gaulle took part in the D-Day landings 8 days later with only 177 French soldiers
In short, the French view the past through Tricolore-tinted glasses, but then don’t we all with our histoires? The English love and admire French style and elegance and early morning hot chocolate croissants from le boulangerie du village, the French love and admire English pop culture, cool Britannia and decent packets of biscuits.
Stephen Clarke’s other book, A Year in the Merde, plods the well-worn track of The Innocents Abroad, a Mark Twain novel, has become an international best-seller, printed in France as God Save La France. He has said of living in Paris, "I love France because here you are working for a living and not vice versa". Ah, the wisdom of it.
We get on now because it’s in our interests. But, as Stephen Clarke says in a France 24 interview, our mutual past has a habit of rearing itself up and interrupting the best of intentions with troublesome recollections. So it is that each Frenchy that descends onto the platform of Waterloo Station is unhappily reminded of Napoleonic defeat and national chagrin.
Ah well –plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose…
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