To most Frenchmen tax evasion is an instinct, and to some a career. When the tax collector comes to inspect his house, his books and his way of life for an estimate of his income, the practiced, big-time evader sends his new American car to the country, brings down his shabbiest furniture from the attic, gives the servants the day off, and greets the collector in a borrowed suit.
France's small shopkeepers and artisans pay only a 2.7% tax on their turnover. But any tax at all is an outrage perpetrated by "that government in Paris." By last week a glib, handsome...
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