The Reassurance of St. Figaro

The collected bylines were illustrious indeed. There was Emile Zola pas sionately arguing the case for Captain Alfred Dreyfus. Guy de Maupassant covered a Hindu cremation in India.

Gabriel Faure favorably reviewed the premiere of Tosca at the Paris Opera.

Marcel Proust recalled a childhood Easter vacation. By embroidering its anniversary edition with evocative pieces from its rich past, Paris' oldest daily, Le Figaro, celebrated its centennial in grand style last week.

The paper also threw a charity gala at the Paris Opera that glittered with the helmets of the Gardes Republicaines, and the dancing of Rudolf Nureyev and Margot Fonteyn. It was all quite in character for a paper that once moved Charles de Gaulle to jest: "Each morning when its readers pick it up, they murmur: 'St. Figaro, reassure us.' " Pride in Speculation. Over the years, the paper has proved consistently reas suring to its affluent, conservative readership. Figaro prides itself on being no ordinary paper that merely dispenses the news. It has always had literary ambitions, and part of the front page every day is devoted to a column of philosophical or literary speculation.

Contributors have always ranked among France's most eminent men of letters; today they range from Political Analyst Raymond Aron to Moviemaker Rene Clair to Biologist Jean Rostand to Play wright Jean Anouilh.

Such fare sometimes turns out to be heavy going, but no paper boasts a more loyal readership. Figaro's circulation has now reached 400,000 -- third largest of all French papers. And since almost a quarter of its readers live out side Paris, Figaro comes close to being a national newspaper. For its rural readers, it also produces a weekly 84-page magazine, Figaro Agricole; for city dwellers, it publishes a weekly review of the arts, Figaro Litteraire, which is so packed with classified advertising that it has been dubbed Figaro Immobilier (Real Estate Figaro).

Figaro covers the news of Paris exhaustively if blandly; its foreign coverage is acknowledged to be the best of any French publication. In addition to eleven foreign bureaus, it keeps some half a dozen correspondents on the road in search of background stories, any one of which may fill a full page. Figaro was the only French daily to cover the Jack Ruby trial, the only one to send a reporter along on President Johnson's Southeast Asian trip. .

Figaro keeps on intimate terms with its status-conscious readers by publishing a column called Le Carnet du Jour, a listing of all the births, marriages and deaths of those who count in French society. "You're not really married if it hasn't been noted in Figaro," is a familiar quip. A 37-year-old boulevardier and gossip columnist named Philippe Bouvard cruises Paris in a Citroen equipped with television and a telephone. As he picks up tips, he phones any of 15 legmen and women to follow them up. "Before, only a name was enough," says Bouvard. "Now you need a name and a good story."

Profusion of Titles. Founded as a literary weekly in 1826 and named for the cunning barber hero of the Beaumarchais play, Figaro survived a succession of inept owners, became a daily in 1866. Somehow, it weathered all storms. By supporting Dreyfus in his epic battle with the French army, it lost half its circulation, but the readers slowly returned. On the eve of World War I, the wife of Finance Minister Joseph Caillaux, offended by the paper's attacks on her husband, shot and killed Editor Gaston Calmette. During

World War II, Figaro's great anti-Nazi editor, Pierre Brisson, suspended publication in protest against Vichy censorship. Today, Figaro is owned half by Jean Prouvost, publisher of Paris-Match, and half by Industrialist Ferdinand Beghin, but under an agreement worked out after years of controversy, the editorial staff has complete freedom.

Since 1925, Figaro has been housed in an ornate town house on the Champs-Elysees that is the delight of tourists but the despair of newsmen. Some of the staff enjoy the luxury of spacious salons; others are cooped up in maids' rooms under the eaves. Within La Maison, as it is affectionately called, a hierarchy of sorts is maintained. An ordinary reporter is known as "notre collaborateur." A slightly more important reporter is called "notre excellent collaborateur." And a member of the French Academy is honored with the title "notre excellent ami."

Along with its readership of solid citizens, Figaro generally supports De Gaulle, though some of its columnists harshly criticize him. It is more sympathetic to the U.S. than any other French publication and is less strident in its criticism of the U.S. role in Viet Nam. But it also makes a point of defending French standards against the onslaught of foreign customs, has tried to ban everything from bubble gum to the English-language prefix "super." "We've always been non-engage," says Editor Louis Gabriel-Robinet. "We've never belonged to any political party--just the party of balance."

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