Millennium in Camelot

On an April day in 963, Count Sigfroi, a Wagnerian warrior from the Ardennes, raised his banner over a fortress on a formidable rock above the Alzette River in the eastern Frankish empire. Though Sigfroi's wife soon vanished--she turned out to be a water nymph--and his fortress crumbled, the fief he founded proved as durable as it is diminutive. It is formally known today as the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg and, though international surveys often omit its statistics entirely, it is a thriving charter member of the European Coal and Steel Community and the Common Market, as well as the smallest country in the United Nations, in whose behalf it sent an armed and eager platoon to Korea in 1951.

Last week, as they marked their country's 1,000th anniversary, the solid, easygoing Luxembourgeois looked forward to a long summer of low-key celebration, including a dog show, endless wine festivals, an international stamp exposition, and a visit by two planeloads of kinfolk from Chicago, which is said to boast more Luxembourgeois than Luxembourg (pop. 320,000).* The mystery is why they ever left in the first place.

Dial 219-61. The Grand Duchy today is a sort of constitutional Camelot. It boasts 130 castles (but no university), pristine forests where wild boar are still hunted, crystalline rivers that teem with crayfish, trout and, of course, water nymphs. The Luxembourgeois, who are walking advertisements for their cuisine (famed specialties: thrush pie and partridge canape), brag that it is "French in quality, German in quantity." In other respects as well, they claim to have Europe's highest living standards. There is neither unemployment nor slums; illiteracy was banished in 1847, and the duchy's booming steel industry is one of the world's most productive. "Luxembourg," its citizens say with satisfaction, "belongs to the Luxembourgeois."

Politically, Luxembourg is a family-style democracy in which street cleaners greet the Prime Minister by his first name. If a citizen gets mad at the government, he has only to dial 219-61 to hear a telephone operator reply, "The Government," and direct him promptly to the appropriate official. For economy's sake, virtually every member of the Cabinet runs at least two ministries. Premier Pierre Werner, 49, who is also Minister of Finance, is a genial, tireless Christian Socialist who bustles around the country in an ancient official Buick as concernedly as if the Grand Duchy--all 999 square miles of it --were about to melt away altogether.

A Lot to Offer. Actually, political crises are few and far between in placid Luxembourg. Through tactful treatment of minorities, the government has avoided the fate of neighboring Belgium, where bitter antagonisms between Flemish and French-speaking citizens are a constant threat to stability. The Luxembourgeois, who speak French, German and a gobbledydeutsch called Mosel-fraenkisch, do not even have an official language. They are 96.9% Catholic, but the government pays the salaries of the country's sole rabbi and its only Protestant minister. Even the country's few Communists profess loyalty to the royal family. Titular head of state since 1919 has been the handsome, highly esteemed Grand Duchess Charlotte, 67, who later this month will pay her first official visit to the U.S. since she escaped in World War II to head her government in exile.

Indeed, though they put up a heroic resistance against the Germans in two world wars, in peacetime the Luxembourgeois keep to themselves as a matter of principle. Some Western diplomats would like to see the country play a more assertive role in world affairs. "They have a lot to offer," argues one. "Internationally, Luxembourg is the voice of 20th century Europeanism, the voice of reason in the Common Market, NATO and the U.N. But it is too modest." In fact one of President Kennedy's underlying reasons for inviting the Grand Duchess to Washington is to suggest that Luxembourg should use its moderating influence more readily. But the Luxembourgeois are not likely to change their ways. "When cats fight," they explain, "kittens should stay out of the way."

* Many also emigrated to New England, notably Franklin Roosevelt's maternal ancestors, the Delanos (originally Delanois), whose old castle in northern Luxembourg now houses a first-class hotel.

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