LE BOURGEOIS GENTILHOMME

CHARLES DE GAULLE lives in stone houses. In cosmopolitan Paris, home is the buff-colored Elysee Palace, an elaborate 18th century pleasure dome that belonged to Mme. de Pompadour, mistress of King Louis XV. In rural Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises, home is a 14-room chateau of grey limestone surrounded by formal gardens and groves of elm and pine. In both, le grand Charles tries to keep life as simple and uncomplicated as possible.

Silent Phones. Mornings in Paris, De Gaulle is awakened at 7 by his shy, grey-eyed wife Yvonne, for he will permit neither clocks nor radio in his bedroom. After a breakfast of black coffee and dry toast (croissants on Thursdays and Sundays), De Gaulle changes from striped pajamas to one of the ten double-breasted suits (navy blue, black, or charcoal grey) chosen and laid out by his valet, scans the morning papers and listens to the 8:15 news broadcast before crossing the hall to his office in the Salon Dore, also on the Elysee's second floor. The room is furnished with a Louis XV desk in front of a white marble fireplace. Near by is a globe, a table with two phones--one for communication within the palace, the other an outside line. The phones never ring--not even his intimates dare call De Gaulle directly. Instead, they get in touch with a secretary, who then informs the President.

The office day begins with a staff conference at 9, is followed by a stream of visitors. De Gaulle is ordinarily courtly and charming, rising to greet guests as they enter. VIPs share a sofa with De Gaulle; others take a chair at a respectful distance from the desk. A visitor is often greeted with a disconcerting "Well, sir, what have you to say to me?" De Gaulle listens attentively and will reply at length if the caller interests him; if not, he cuts the interview short with a lofty Gaullism.

The President uses conversations to develop his own ideas.

Explains one associate: "He doesn't talk his ideas out, he talks them in." For a while, it amused De Gaulle to entertain assorted critics of his policies at lunch, and he often displayed enough personal charm to win them over. But he finally tired of the game, grumbling, "I'm not a bear to perform in a circus." Wednesday mornings at 10, the Cabinet gathers around a table covered with red cloth. De Gaulle has before him a dossier on the subject under discussion and will interrupt a Cabinet minister to stress details he thinks are being overlooked. When he feels a speaker is talking too long or to no point, De Gaulle drums his fingers irritably on the table. When he has heard enough, he declares crisply, "Eh bien, messieurs, nous avons termine." Barracks Vocabulary. Lunch (appetizer, meat or fish, salad, dessert, two wines) starts at 1 o'clock and is usually a working meal, attended by Elysee aides and outside guests.

Lunch over, De Gaulle finds time to read the first edition of the afternoon Le Monde as well as a chapter or two in a book. By 3, he is back in his office to receive more visitors.

Late each afternoon Premier Georges Pompidou is summoned for an hour-long consultation.

De Gaulle returns to his own apartments by 8 p.m., watches the TV news, and then usually dines with his wife and other relations whenever there is no state banquet. Like the lunches, dinners are simple and quick. De Gaulle is fond of soup, and huffily remarks that the Elysee blends are inferior to those prepared by his Colombey cook, Philomene. He also dotes on a special beef stew that the family calls "stewed Salan's head.'' Dinner over, De Gaulle may watch a private screening of a movie (preferably a comedy) or sit with Yvonne before the television set, like any bourgeois couple, until his 11 o'clock bedtime. There is a certain displeasure in France because 62-year-old Yvonne "does not play the President's wife." Self-effacing, silent, withdrawn, Mme. de Gaulle so avoids publicity that she is one of the most anonymous of all the wives of world leaders. A devout Roman Catholic, she is rumored to have vetoed a projected ministerial appointment because she disapproved of the sexual laxity of the man's wife. Her effect on De Gaulle is to tug him toward conformity, tone down his barracks vocabulary, soothe his rages. The De Gaulles use the vous form to each other, rather than the more intimate tu. Though this indicates a certain old-fashioned formality in their relations, it does not suggest any lack of affection.

Disguised Farmers. Each weekend the De Gaulles go to their country retreat. The regularity of these visits is an invitation to assassins, and two attempts on the President's life have been made on the route between Paris and Colombey. De Gaulle is still the despair of his security staff. His personal bodyguard consists of only two "gorillas," whose shoulders seem to slope down from their ears. But dark blue police vans are positioned on side streets around the Elysee Palace, and apartments above the chic shops along the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore facing the palace are periodically searched. When De Gaulle is at Colombey, up to 100 gendarmes are sometimes disguised as farm hands and posted around the village. At the rambling estate in Colombey, De Gaulle gets a measure of the family life and relaxation he misses so much in Paris. He reads, walks in his garden, and plays with his four grandchildren, for whose amusement he has installed an elaborate set of playground equipment and a plastic swimming pool.

De Gaulle's health is excellent, except for his failing eyesight. He has had an operation for a cataract on one eye, and vision in the other is dim. Yet vanity makes him try to avoid wearing glasses in public. At last week's funeral of ex-President Rene Coty, De Gaulle walked ponderously up to the stairs leading to the platform. He put on his glasses and momentarily studied the steps, then whipped the glasses off and strode giraffe-like toward the top. Sure enough, he stumbled over an unnoticed ridge en route.

On Mondays, when De Gaulle returns to Paris from Colombey, he seems regretful and half inclined to retire from politics. But in the pace of Paris, all such thoughts soon vanish--until the peace and quiet of another weekend beckons. He remains a moody, introverted man who keeps his own counsel. Last year De Gaulle confided to U.S. President John Kennedy the principle that has always guided his own conduct: "And now, Monsieur le President and cher ami, I say this. Listen only to yourself!"

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.