The Hollow Men

The last and heaviest burden in the destiny of Henri Philippe Petain has been a seemingly interminable life. The officer who waited 44 years to become a major, 62 years to be Marshal of France, 84 years to be chief of the French state, was condemned as a traitor at 89. Today, in his fortress cell at Ile d'Yeu, he waits for the end.

Last week, in Paris, a greying cavalry officer, the Marquis Andre de Belleval, fleetingly rustled the tatters of the once great legend of Petain. He and some 500 other sympathizers of the old man attended a public auction of Petain's books and household effects (no ribbons, no medals), which the government had confiscated after his trial in 1945. At first there was icy silence. Then the Marquis mounted a chair and, waving his cane, he demanded that the sale end at once.

Amid shouts of "Vive Petain/" from the audience, Belleval denounced the proceedings as a "dishonor to France," proposed a token bid of one franc for each item on sale, so that the objects might be returned to Petain. The offer was turned down. The indignant audience burst into the Marseillaise. Fifty policemen finally cleared the hall. Once more the Marshal's belongings would gather dust. The old man would scarcely have found use for them, anyway.

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