Proudhon Spelled Backwards

The defendant wore a brilliant red and yellow checked shirt, khaki riding breeches and knee-high, shining black boots. A long mane flowed down his back from the heights of his domed head; a vast, bushy beard descended from his chin to his chest. He entered the tiny courtroom in Paris' august Palais de Justice reclining on a stretcher.

"Who are you?" asked Judge Rene Guillaumot as the accused was laid before him.

"I am Nohduorp the First, president of the Federated French Republic of Fresnes, one and indivisible."

This was slightly puzzling to the court. But it was soon established that Nohduorp is Proudhon spelled backwards. Exclaimed the defendant: "I am the revolutionary Proudhon, reincarnated."

That explained it. The trial proceeded.

The New Republic. The defendant was, in fact, one Jacques Bourin, on trial for collaboration. He had been a major in pro-Nazi Marcel Deat's SS `a la Franc,aise. At some point during his career, he got interested in Pierre Joseph Proudhon, a 19th Century French social philosopher, sometimes known as the "Father of Anarchy." Proudhon fought against private property (which he called theft) and government, as well as his fellow Utopians.*

Spelling Proudhon backwards, Bourin created his own Utopia at Fresnes prison (near Paris), during the months before his trial. It was called the Republic of Fresnes; other inmates of the prison held leading cabinet posts. The list of portfolios, as it came to light in court last week, included the Ministries of Catastrophes, Redundant Absurdities, Pots of Wine, the Budget & Squaring the Circle, Dangerous Initiatives, Counterfeit Money, Expediency, Peeling of Oranges and Violation of Nuns.

Throughout the trial, Bourin remained completely at his ease. Why was he on a stretcher? Because a hunger strike in prison had sapped his strength. Why had he gone on a hunger strike in the first place? Because "a leader must set an example. As president, I am the official scapegoat of the republic." Later, he presented a piece of paper to the judge. "Your Honor, permit me to offer you my latest sonnet. It is entitled 'The Madman.' I have dedicated it to you." To most accusations of collaboration he replied: "Ce n'est que de la creme fouettee" ("It's nothing but whipped cream," i.e., baloney). Had he not belonged to Deat's group? Snapped Bourin: "Zero for the question. I was always against Deat. But I love uniforms. I had only been a lieutenant and Deat offered to make me a major. He also appointed me inspector general of the group. I cannot resist the word general."

But his chief defense was Kiki.

Perfectly Sane. During the war, Bourin had met Jacqueline ("Kiki") Rousseau* in Germany, where she had done her share of collaborating. For him, it was le grand amour. "Ah, Kiki," he sighed. "It is because of her that I am on trial. They put me in here to get her away from me. For a year she waited, but now she is married."

When Kiki herself took the witness stand, she turned out to be a 23-year-old peroxide blonde. She laughed throughout her appearance in court.

The judge asked Kiki: "What drew you to Bourin?"

Said she: "Let's say it was a moral depression."

"Not very nice, Kiki," cried Bourin from his stretcher. "They have stolen Kiki away from me. Now you can condemn me and shoot me." While the psychiatrists debated his sanity, Bourin reflected aloud: "The cabin in the mountains . . . the little bridge. . . ."

The psychiatrists pronounced Bourin not completely, but certainly somewhat, mad. But French justice, a blase lady with quite a past, was not impressed. Defendant Bourin got five years and national indignity for life. The prosecution argued (and the judge agreed) that Bourin was perfectly sane, if somewhat "exalted."

* In Proudhon's ideal republic, the Academy of Sciences and the Department of Statistics would be the government. Means of production would be issued free to all workers. His paradoxical prescription for perfection: "A union of order and anarchy." He was violently opposed to Marx's brand of socialism which, he said, would make the state the tyrannical proprietor "not only of goods, but of persons and wills."

* Not to be confused with dilapidated Alice ("Kiki") Prin, queen of Paris' Left Bank in the Hemingwayward '20s (TIME, April 15, 1946).

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