1/2The legacy De Gaulle left in London ? by Ann Mah Sept. 3 2018 ロンドンに遺るド・ゴールの遺跡?
Retracing the life the French leader lived while in wartime exile
With its bland architecture and gray concrete pavement, little distinguishes Curzon Square from its surroundings in the heart of London’s Mayfair district. But it was here that Charles de Gaulle wrote a speech that would change his country’s fate and, he believed, fulfill his destiny.
On June 17, 1940, still reeling from France’s fall to Nazi Germany three days ealier, de Gaulle fled to London, where he borrowed a friend’s apartment at 3 Curzon Square (then called Seamore Grove) and drafted a passionate call to arms. The next day he broadcast a message on BBC radio ? a direct, clarion appeal to the French people:
“I, General de Gaulle, now in London, call on all French officers and men who are at present on British soil, or may be in the future, with or without their arms; I call on all engineers and skilled workmen from the armaments factories who are at present on British soil, or mat be in the future, to get in touch with me.”
De Gaulle’s initial broadcast reached only a few parts of occupied France. (Subsequent transmissions on June 19 and 22 reached greater swaths of Vichy territory.) But today, it is considered one of the most significant moments in French history, even honored with its own square in Paris, Place de 18 Juin 1940.
On a cold, damp day in February, I gazed up at the building that has replaced de Gaulle’s borrowed apartment as the final words of his speech rang in my ears: “Whatever happens, the flame of French resistance must not and shall not die.”
I was standing at the birthplace of that resistance movement, one of the cornerstones of de Gaulle’s legacy.
These days, the scars of World War II have largely faded from central London; it’s easy to forget that many of the newer buildings replaced Blitz-era bomb destruction. Beneath the polished surface, the memory of Britain’s finest hour, as Winston Churchill famously called it, lingers tenaciously, encouraged by a seemingly endless parades of popular books, television shows and film set during the war.
Amid these tales of British resilience and everyday courage, the story of the Free French in London is often overlooked. And so, nearly 80 years after his unceremonious arrival, I set out to find Charles de Gaulle’s London ? and I came to understand the isolation, determination and sense of destiny that characterized the three years he spent there.
In 1940, as now, Mayfair had an air of starchy establishment, anchored by embassies, banks and that most British of institutions, gentlemen’s clubs, which served as social hubs for an elite membership. Into this rarefied world dropped Charles de Gaulle, a tall, awkward man of 49, recently promoted to the rank of general. He brought with him only one colleague, his aide-de-camp Geoffroy Chodron de Courcel, and 100,000 francs of secret government funds.
“On the 18th of June, he was a man alone,” said Hubert Rault, who leads walking tours with his company, de Gaulle in London, as we stood on Curzon Square. “He didn’t even speak English. But he came to England because he needed support from Churchill. He knew without English support, there would be no Free French.”
Indeed, Churchill was an early advocate of the French general, overruling the British cabinet when they attempted to block de Gaulle’s initial BBC radio address. Ten days later, Churchill officially recognized de Gaulle as the head of the Free French Forces. As he later wrote in his memoir, Churchill believed de Gaulle was “l’homme de destin” ? the man of destiny.
With Mr. Rault as my guide, I set out to find de Gaulle’s haunts among the elite addresses of London’s West End. At St. James’s Square we stopped to admire a pretty Georgian building that once housed the Petit Club Francais, a wartime watering hole for French exiles and their friends; it is now the Royal Naval and Military Club. A few steps away, we paused at Norfolk House, a wide brick building where Dwight D. Eisenhowere planned Operation Overlord, the Akkied invasion better known as the Battle of Normandy as a part of D-Day. Along Pall Mall, we gazed at the Royal Automobile Club looming in Beaux-Arts splendor; during the war, the private club offered free membership to Free French soldiers who frequented the dining room as their canteen.
The back of the Royal Automobile Club faces Carlton Gardens, a quiet dead-end street where, at No.4, a tall plain building served as the headquarters of the Free French Forces. A small blue plaque honors de Gaulle, while a second, larger panel displays a version of his famous appeal, embellished with French flags, the Lorraine Cross (the symbol of the Free French) and, running across the bottom, the words “Vive La France!”
Today the building houses the offices of the Edmond de Rothchild Group, a private financial firm, and is closed to the public. At Mr. Rault’s urging, I peered closely at the third floor’s corner windows, glimpsing a second set of dark wood window frames behind the newer fa軋de. “That was de Gaulle’s office,” he said. “I was invited inside a few years ago and they’ve kept it exactly as it was.” A photograph of de Gaulle shot by Cecil Beaton at Carlton Gardens shows a solitary man standing before his desk with crossed arms, his features only half illuminated by the light cascading from the windows.
Across the street, a life-size bronze statue depicts this same erect figure standing with an outstretched hand, unveiled in 1993 by Queen Elizabeth. Though the statue is now ringed with fencing, someone managed to tuck a bouquet of silk flowers at the bottom of the pedestal, adorned with a tricolor ribbon that read “Forces Navales francaises Libres” ? Free French Naval Forces ? and “en souvenir” ? in remembrance.
