Fillon: archetype of austerity undone by fraud scandal

The conviction of former French premier Francois Fillon on fraud charges caps the downfall of a rightwing star whose carefully honed image as hard-nosed fiscal hawk had put him within arm’s reach of the presidency.

Since crashing out of the 2017 presidential race, Fillon has insisted he was the target of a political hit job, arguing it was perfectly legal for him to hire his wife Penelope as his parliamentary assistant.

But the couple produced only scant evidence she ever did any work while on the public payroll, raking in over one million euros during a 15-year period in which she never even obtained an entry badge for the National Assembly.

“I have led my family into an ordeal of unheard-of violence, and I have no intention of doing so ever again,” Fillon told French television in a rare media appearance, shortly before his trial began last January.

Born in 1954 to a provincial notary and a historian mother, Fillon was raised in a Catholic household in the northwestern city of Le Mans, steeped in traditional family values and the Gaullist heritage of France’s “grandeur” that would define his austere brand of conservatism.

He was just 22 when he entered local politics before jumping to the national stage five years later by becoming France’s youngest member of parliament.

Casting himself as a “Mr Clean” financial steward, Fillon rose through the ranks to eventually become prime minister under president Nicolas Sarkozy from 2007 to 2012 — his popularity at times eclipsing that of his boss.

A devout Catholic, he vowed to partly roll back gay adoption rights, drew applause for his plans to shrink the French state and took a hard-line stance on national identity and Islam in a bid to win over far-right voters.

Penelope often remained at their stately country manor near Le Mans, home of the famed 24-hour automobile endurance race, raising their five children.

– Expensive tastes –

By nature discreet, Fillon portrayed himself as a common man serving his nation, with little time for Paris dinner parties and political hobnobbing.

“I am not a man of money. My assets are limited to my house,” he said last January — though critics noted his estate had 14 bedrooms and its own horse stables.

“There is no Ferrari hidden in my garage,” he added.

But after the Canard Enchaine newspaper broke the fake job claims, other reports surfaced that indicated Fillon was not averse to the finer things in life.

In 2012, while on vacation in Capri, Fillon broke his foot while zipping around on a scooter loaned to him by Luca di Montezemolo, the head of Fiat.

Press reports at the time said that two years earlier, while Fillon was still prime minister, Montezemolo had let him borrow a Ferrari.

A few weeks after “Penelopegate” emerged in 2017, an influential Franco-Lebanese lawyer known for his contacts with France’s former colonies in Africa confirmed he had gifted Fillon with two luxury suits from the luxury Parisian tailor Arnys.

Fillon fiercly denied any conflict of interest and later returned the suits worth 6,500 euros each, but the revelations dealt a harsh blow to his reputation as a frugal budget steward.

Last January, the former politician, now an adviser in a boutique financial firm, again admitted that accepting the suits was a mistake.

But he showed no sign of remorse for a scandal that also included claims of fake jobs for two of his children paid for with public funds.

“I’m not here to say I’m sorry,” he said.

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