C’est possible* that in recent times, I may have lightly mocked the Académie française* for its somewhat anachronistic tendencies.

Set up in in 1635 by Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister to King Louis XIII, its raison d’être* is to protect the purity of the French language.

It’s actually one of five académies, that fall under the auspices of the Institut de France*. While the Académie française is concerned with language, the others take care of literature, pure sciences, fine arts and the social sciences.

*It’s possible | *French Academy | *reason for being | *academies | *French Institute

There are forty members of the Académie at any one time, who are called the immortels*, since they are elected for life. So serious are they about this life-long tenure, that when Marshal Pétain was sacked for collaborating with the Nazi regime in occupied France during WWII, his post was left vacant until his death in 1951.

The Académie bears the responsibility for producing the dictionary of reference for the French language and let’s just say they’re not exactly rapide*. In 1986, work started on the 8th edition. By 2011, they were up to the letter Q.

In its nearly 400-year history, only nine women have been granted a seat, with the first, writer Marguerite Yourcenar, elected in 1980.

*immortals | *quick

So, there are reasons for my failure to wholeheartedly embrace this institution. However, having just read this France 24 webdoc (brand new word for me in English, by the way), I am rempli d’humilité.

Fusty or not, the history and practices of the Académie française are so passionnant*, they deserve further exploration, and listening to Sir Michael Edwards, the first native-English speaker elected as an immortal, express his unbridled love for the French language had me racing to other corners of the internet to see what I could find.

Below, a list of my favourite anecdotes*.

*truly humbled | *interesting

event_entretien-d-issy-le-genie-de-la-langue-francaise-avec-sir-michael-edwards-dans-le-cadre-de-la-semaine-de-la-francophonie_729660.jpg

In their excitement to publish the first edition of the official dictionnaire français*, a very important word was somehow omitted: Français (French). Incroyable, non*?
Each immortel is required to foot the bill for their own l’habit vert*, a black or navy blue jacket embroidered with green laurel leaves. No uniform being complete without a sword, bien sûr*, their next job is to commission one, replete with symbolic flourishes and in some cases, jewels. One immortel, Amin Maalouf, said that his induction cost him in the region of $230,000. Luckily for French writer, poet and dramatist, Jean Cocteau, he had a benefactor in Coco Chanel, who gifted him a 2.34 carat emerald (above) which formed the centre of his lyre. Who was charged with putting it all together? None other than la Maison Cartier.
Most people hate public speaking, but imagine the pressure of having to write a eulogy for the immortel you’re replacing and deliver it in front of 39 masters of the French language. C’est le pompon*! Eight days later, if all goes to plan, a reception is held for the new member to welcome him (or occasionally her) to the fold. Things did not quite go to plan for Georges de Porto-Riche. His eulogy was deemed unsatisfactory, he refused to rewrite it and consequently, he was not afforded a reception. Maybe not the best work début* in the history of the world.
Occasionally, the Académie’s rigid adherence to existing rules means they run the risk of impeding the free use of the language. A recent controversy was kicked off when Lionel Jospin’s government began using la ministre instead of the official le ministre to refer to a female minister. The Académie was not impressed and insisted upon the traditional use of the masculine noun for a minister of either gender. In 2017, 77 linguists retaliated with an opinion column to denounce the “incompetency and anachronism”. Today, use of either form remains highly controversial. Quel cauchemar*.