The Private Life of the Sarkozys: France Fascinated by Its New First Couple
New French President Nicolas Sarkozy wants to revamp his country, but will he manage to get his wife to move into the Élysée Palace with him? At present, the French seem more interested in the private lives of the Sarkozys, and of Socialist candidate Ségolène Royal, than in the big changes coming.
Nicolas Sarkozy kisses his wife Cecilia with their children looking on as Sarkozy is inaugurated last week.
Flanked by her two blonde daughters and Sarkozy's two sons, France's new first lady, wearing a shimmering satin dress, added glamour to the proceedings as former President Jacques Chirac handed power to his freshly-elected successor, Nicolas Sarkozy. The press scrutinized her every gesture: the public kiss, how she adjusted her husband's tie, how she suppressed a tear. Cécilia Sarkozy, who once worked as a model for fashion house Schiaparelli, was the leading lady as well as the heart and soul of this royal pageantry. The next day a photo of her and her husband graced the cover of news magazine L'Express, while popular French magazine VSD asked "What role will she play?"
This "première dame de France" embodies the generational change her husband has evoked, and the cultural break with the leaden era of Chirac. France is captivated by this couple with their five blonde children, aged 10 to 22. It's a "family in touch with the times,", wrote newspaper Le Figaro. They remind the nation of the Kennedys.
But new cracks are already emerging in this glittering façade. Paris had indulged in elaborate speculation over whether Cécilia would even attend the inauguration, because she was conspicuous by her absence on the evening of the election. And when she finally did appear at her husband's side at his victory celebration on Place de la Concorde in Paris at about 11:00 p.m., she seemed detached and joyless.
What was wrong with her? It was rumored that her two daughters had to convince her to attend, and that she flew in from London at the last minute. Even Maureen Dowd, the well-known columnist with the New York Times, noticed that Mme. Sarkozy's attire -- a grey top and white trousers -- seemed oddly inappropriate. A friend called it her "escape outfit."
Pressure on media to portray loving couple
Perhaps this explains why Cécilia didn't vote, an omission that was all the more disconcerting because she even had her own office at Sarkozy's headquarters on Rue d'Enghien during the campaign. Her failure to vote only became a political issue when Journal du dimanche retracted a story, apparently in response to pressure from Sarkozy, about Cécilia's lack of civic responsibility. The paper promptly denied it had acted under duress.
There are two things the French will probably have to get used to. The first is the new president's tendency to intervene with his friends in the newspaper business to stop then printing unfavorable articles. The second is that his personal life will give him plenty of reasons to intervene. It may be to Sarkozy's benefit that the French attitude toward private morality is generally more accepting than elsewhere. Things that the French tend to tolerate would trigger national crises in other countries.
Unlike in Germany, whose former chancellor and foreign minister were married four and five times respectively, tumultuous marriages, affairs and illegitimate children are part of the colorful diversity of life in France. When former US President Bill Clinton had an affair with White House intern Monica Lewinsky, the French could only shake their heads at the ensuing uproar in America, calling it Protestant prudishness. What was a bit of oral sex in the Oval Office compared, for example, to the double life of former French President François Mitterrand?
Mitterrand had a mistress and paid for her accommodation with taxpayers' money. Shortly before he died, when he admitted to having an illegitimate daughter by her, it only served to give the man many in France referred to as "God" a more wordly image. Mitterrand's successor, Chirac, also had a reputation as a bon vivant.
President Sarkozy has played an active role in the public speculation about his private life. He has repeatedly drawn his wife into the limelight, praising her as his closest confidante. But the French tabloid press only played along while their marriage appeared to be intact. In 2005, when his wife had an affair with Richard Attias, an advertising executive, and the French magazine Paris Match printed a photo of the couple in New York, the jilted husband was determined to exact his revenge.
Alain Genestar, the magazine's editor-in-chief, eventually had to go. It was so desired by Arnaud Lagardère, the owner of Paris Match. Lagardère is a friend of the new president and apparently willing to do him favors. Since then the industrialist has kept his editorial staff on a short leash, revealing a clear preference for Sarkozy. Suddenly Paris Match was writing devotedly about how the Sarkozys had spent the night after the election in a hotel suite, behaving "like lovers." The description is so poetic that it could just as well have flowed from the president's pen.
When it comes to his wife, Sarkozy is soft, helpless and impossibly unforgiving. He calls her "my strength and my Achilles heel." Regardless of whether this portrayal is true or not, the French public like it.
Sarkozy is about to embark on an ambitious plan to reform France. But the country seems more interested in whether Cécilia will move into the Élysée, who she socializes with and how the couple behaves in public.
New book sheds light on Royal's marriage
The Sarkozys are not alone in displaying their all too human side. Ségolène Royal, the respectable loser in the presidential election, is no less aware of her power than her victorious adversary. Now that the election is over Royal, in a surprise coup, is claiming the leadership of her Socialist Party (PS). This would not be so extraordinary if all she had to do was push aside a few older gentlemen. But one of those men is the current head of the PS, François Hollande, who happens to be her partner and the father of her four children. Royal is currently spending a few days in Tunisia -- alone.
The French are also fascinated by this couple. What happens in their private lives? And why is it that she and not Hollande campaigned against Sarkozy?
A new book offers some answers. Published after the election and titled "La femme fatale," it was written by two female journalists from France's Le Monde newspaper. It tells the story of the run-up to Royal's decision to run for the candidacy and it goes like this: her partner François had a close relationship with a female journalist, who was "attractive, blonde and lively" and had been assigned to report about the Socialists. Ségolène first had her eldest son call the paper and then asked her brother Gérard to intervene. Gérard, a former intelligence agent who was involved in the notorious 1985 attack on the Greenpeace vessel "Rainbow Warrior" off the coast of New Zealand, was apparently successful with his intervention, and the young woman was reassigned.
Ségolène, the story goes, then held a pistol to her partner's head: she threatened to take away the couple's children if he stood in the way of her candidacy. He relented and, from then on, she treated him with aggrieved disdain. The family's private life is now apparently governed by a principle Hollande once touted under different circumstances: "One couple, two freedoms."
Could this also end up being the outcome of the disputes in the Sarkozy household? Cécilia is approaching her new role with mixed feelings. "I don't see myself as First Lady," she said some time ago. "It bores me. I am not politically correct. I walk around in jeans and I don't fit into this mould."
The Sarkozys spent the evening of Nicolas's triumph winding down with friends at a nightclub called "ShowCase." A photographer from Paris Match happened to be there, purely by chance, of course. Sarkozy performed a few wooing dance steps in front of his wife. Cécilia, lounging on a sofa, watched her husband, half flattered and half deprecating with her index finger raised.
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
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