Читать книгу Children of Monsters - Jay Nordlinger - Страница 12

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FRANCO

Franco had one child—a daughter, Carmen. She was born in 1926, ten years before the Spanish Civil War. At the end of that war, in 1939, her father was unchallenged dictator of Spain. As with Edda Mussolini, there were rumors about Carmen’s parentage. There still are. It is said that she is the offspring of Franco’s brother Ramón, a famed air-force pilot, and rake. According to this rumor, Ramón had a child with someone, and the babe needed a home. The future dictator and his wife, unable to have children of their own, took her in. According to a different rumor, the babe was an orphan in Morocco.

One of the alleged proofs that Carmen came out of nowhere, so to speak, is that no proper notice of her birth was published. This is “a complete canard,” as Stanley G. Payne has emphasized to me. (Professor Payne is a leading historian of Spain, and Franco biographer.)

Adding to the store of gossip and speculation, a book came out in 2009 alleging that Franco had one testicle. It is true that he was wounded in the lower abdomen while fighting in Morocco. But claims about the result of this wound are unverifiable. It is said, too, that Hitler had one testicle. A single testicle threatens to become known as a dictatorial trait.

The humdrum truth is this, according to Payne and other top Franco authorities: Carmen is the offspring of Franco and his wife, and any rumors to the contrary are to be discounted. So we will discount them.

Carmen’s mother, and Franco’s wife, was also named Carmen. The mother was called “Doña Carmen,” even as Mrs. Mussolini was called “Donna Rachele.” The daughter was known in the family as “Carmencita” or “Nenuca.” In time, she would be known as “Doña Carmen” (and she, too, would have a daughter Carmen, so we have to be on our toes about which Carmen is in question).

Francisco Franco, the generalissimo and dictator, loved his daughter dearly. In their 2014 biography of Franco, Payne and Jesús Palacios write, “Becoming a father may have been the greatest pure joy of his life.” In his old age, he had this recollection: “When the baby girl was born, I almost went crazy” (with delight). Franco was known for reserve and austerity—even coldness—but he poured affection on his daughter. Earlier, I suggested that fathers have a special love for their daughters. Franco’s may have been magnified in that Carmen was his only child.

She married in 1950, when she was 24. The wedding was a very grand affair, taking place in El Pardo, the palace in Greater Madrid where the Francos lived. The groom was an aristocrat: Cristóbal Martínez-Bordiú, the tenth marquis of Villaverde. He was a playboy on the Galeazzo Ciano level, if not beyond. He also had a more serious side. In fact, he was a heart surgeon. Among his friends was Dr. Christiaan Barnard, the South African who performed the first heart transplant in 1967. The next year, Martínez-Bordiú performed Spain’s first such operation. The patient lived a little more than a day.

Decades later, in 2011, the patient’s daughter sued. One of her allegations was this: Martínez-Bordiú had embarked on the operation under pressure from his father-in-law’s regime; the operation was not wise medically, but was undertaken in order to glorify fascist Spain.

The dictator and his wife were not rich in children, and sometimes he sighed over this. But daughter Carmen and her doctor-playboy husband were: They had seven children, four girls and three boys. Their first boy was their third child—and he was named Francisco, after his grandfather. (He was also, of course, the eleventh marquis of Villaverde.)

Carmen was just short of 50 when her father died, in 1975. From the newly installed king, Juan Carlos, she received some new titles: duchess of Franco and grandeza de España, i.e., grandee of Spain. A great defender and admirer of her father, she is a living symbol of franquismo (Franco-ism). She has long been a special guest at ceremonies and rallies meant to commemorate her father. The faithful sing the old fascist hymn, “Cara al sol,” or “Facing the Sun.” Doña Carmen (meaning the dictator’s daughter) is the president of the National Francisco Franco Foundation. She has lived a relatively quiet life.

Franco’s daughter, Carmen, as bride

But she has surfaced in the news now and then. In 1978, she was accused of trying to smuggle jewels—31 gold and diamond-encrusted medals—into Switzerland. A Madrid court found her guilty and fined her the equivalent of $95,000. About a year and a half later, she had the conviction overturned, and the money paid back to her. Her lawyer said that it was important that the Franco name be free of this taint.

In 1988, her mother died. Ten years later, her husband, Dr. Martínez-Bordiú, died. His medical career had come to an unhappy end: In 1984, he was forced to resign his hospital position after a patient died in controversial circumstances. In addition to being a heart surgeon, Martínez-Bordiú was a plastic surgeon—and this leads me to an aside (and a somewhat rude one at that): Much plastic surgery has been conducted on Doña Carmen. This is not a matter of a nip here and a tuck there—her appearance has been dramatically altered, as can be seen in photos, taken down the years.

She and her family have suffered various indignities (as well as tragedies). In August 2008, one of Carmen’s granddaughters was getting married at the Pazo de Meirás, the family’s summer estate in Galicia. Protesters massed outside the home, demanding that the house be opened to the public. They yelled “Fascists!” at arriving guests. Later in the year, the family was indeed made to open the home to the public, four days a month. In due course, Doña Carmen won the right to spend August in the house, free of any public visits.

Also in 2008, the town council in Ferrol, Franco’s birthplace, acted against the family. It took back the honorary titles the town had bestowed on Francos over the years. For example, Franco would no longer be called a “favorite son”; and Carmen would no longer be a “daughter of Ferrol.” One official said that maintaining those titles would be “glorifying an oppressive regime.”

At about this time, an interesting and unusual book was published: Franco, mi padre, described as “the testimony of Carmen Franco, daughter of the Caudillo.” The book is the fruit of a series of interviews given by Carmen to the biographers and historians Payne and Palacios. The cover has a photo, which shows Carmen as a girl, with her father. He is in uniform and has his arm around her. He’s wearing a slight smile—uncommon for him, in photos. Carmen herself is beaming. The book made news around the world, particularly Carmen’s statement that her father feared Hitler would kidnap him, to force Spain into the world war.

Guido Mussolini, recall, wanted to have his grandfather dug up, so that an investigation could be performed. Some have wanted Franco dug up, for a different reason: They want his body removed from its place of honor in the Valley of the Fallen, a civil-war memorial. Doña Carmen has opposed this, strongly. She is ever on guard against insults to her father. In 2013, an artist made a punching bag out of Franco’s face. The work was called, simply, “Punching Franco.” The National Francisco Franco Foundation sued, alleging that the work was “grotesque and offensive.” Carmen’s deputy told the press, “It is low and vulgar, and unworthy of civilization, and of a supposed sculptor.”

To say it once more, there are three main Carmens in the Franco world: the dictator’s wife, his daughter, and a daughter of hers, her eldest. In 1972, this third Carmen—Franco’s grandchild—had her own wedding in El Pardo. The groom was even higher up on the social scale than the marquis in 1950: He was Alfonso de Borbón, a first cousin of the soon-to-be king, Juan Carlos. Alfonso was serving as Spain’s ambassador to Sweden. He was also a hard-living, fast-living type—a ski champion, for example. Once he was enmeshed in the Francos, he schemed to be moved up in the royal line of succession. His mother-in-law even entertained the idea that her daughter could be on the throne, queen. But it was not to be. Franco, who had control of such matters, put the kibosh on the whole thing.

Alfonso and Carmen had two boys, Francisco and Luis. In 1982, ten years after their wedding, the couple were divorced. It was Alfonso who got custody of the boys. (Carmen once admitted, “I have not been an exemplary mother.”) In 1984, Alfonso had a car accident, in which Francisco was killed. Luis was in the car too, but, like his father, survived. The father was killed five years later in a skiing accident. A friend of his commented, “He liked to ski fast and drive fast.”

Today, Luis de Borbón, or Louis de Bourbon, as he is more often styled, is pretender to the French throne. Imagine that: Franco’s great-grandchild, a man who would be king—the king of France. Obviously, fascist royalty and royal royalty sometimes mix.

Luis’s mother, Carmen (the third Carmen, remember), has had two marriages since her first. Sadly, she is a tabloid figure, the object of mockery. She has some of the flamboyance and outrageousness of Alessandra Mussolini—but not the taste for politics, apparently. Speaking of fodder for the tabloids, one of Carmen’s brothers, Jaime, was convicted of abusing his girlfriend in 2009. The woman declared that Jaime was a “good person” except under the influence of cocaine.

So, Doña Carmen, the dictator’s daughter, has had problems to deal with, as most people do. And, according to Stanley Payne, she is a remarkably normal person: a woman without many airs, a woman “uncorrupted” by her peculiar circumstances. As I write, she is a year away from her 90th birthday.

Two of the Mussolini sons—Vittorio and Bruno—flew for her father in the civil war. Their younger brother, Romano, did not. For one thing, he was a child during that war; for another, he played the piano. But he met Franco in 1963, as he recounts in a book. The dictator “had never forgotten his rise to power in 1939 thanks to my father’s and Hitler’s support.” Romano found him in a pessimistic mood. Franco said, according to this account, “The Communists will win because there are millions and millions of poor in the world, and the poor will always be Communists.”