OUR PARIS LETTER

Evening Post, Volume CIX, Issue 25, 30 January 1930, Page 19

OUR PARIS LETTER

PALACES OF EMPIRE

COLONIAL EXHIBITION

(From "The Post's" Representative.)

PARIS, 27th November.

Preparations for tho International Colonial Exhibition which is to be opened in the Bois de Vincennes in 1931 are proceeding apace, and. a large area beyond the Porte Doree, the gate which marks the separation of Paris from the suburb, is very animated in these days. Already th^ domes of what promises to be a magnificent Siamese temple—a replica of the Arigkdr-Vat edifice —are visible. This building will be used to house the exhibits of French IndoChiria. Only a short distance away the permanent Colonial Museum is taking shape. It will bo a very large building and will be rich in outward sculptural features symbolising the colonial genius of the French. This place will remain open after the exhibition closes and will contain a large and varied number of exhibits bearing on French colonial life and industry. Work is about to begin also on the palace reserved for exhibits of French West Africa. Belgium, Holland, and Italy have already named their high commissioners, these countries having decided to take up sections at the exhibition.

BETTER THAN HIS FATHER,

An amusing story is told of M. Raoul Dautry, the energetic general manager of the French State railways. The incident happened when he went from Paris to Le Mans recently, to open the new station there. While in Le Mans, M. Dautry inspected the apprenticeship school which the State railways maintain there, and he spoke at some length with one of the boys. "What is your father?" he asked. "A mechanic, sir," replied the youth. "And when you grow up, what are you going to be!" "A mechanic, sir," repeated tho apprentice. "No, No!" exclaimed M. Dautry, in paternal fashion. "You must aim higher than that. Every apprentice should strive to improve his position, to have a better job than his father had. You, at least, should be a section boss." "Yes," answered the boy, looking straight into M. Dautry's eyes, "Or . . . general manager of the railway." In the laughter which followed M. Dautry joined heartily.

THE COLOUR MANIA.

Some time ago, youths in England started a vogue for- brilliantly coloured sweaters which they insisted on wearing in strange places, and at all times. It is dying down in England, but the mania for colours has now broken out in France. i

Young Parisians, at present, are contenting themselves with scarves of curious tints, but it is quite possible that the new fashion for colour may spread to sweaters. Since many young Frenchmen have already sworn a vendetta against the sober black of their fathers, and have long worn suits of different shades of blue and mauve, we may see some startling colour combinations in the near future unless sisters and fiancees indignant of this intrusion into their domain frown them out of existence.

TREND OF FRENCH ART.

Yes, although there are many pictures before which one can only stand and wonder what the artist has been driving at one has the impression that the percentage of pure eccentricities is much smaller than in the recent past. One eminent French critic declares, indeed, that this year's Salon is somef thing quite out of tUe ordinary since for the first time for twenty-five years', it gives an unmistakable clue to the trend of modem French art. This he sums up as follows —a resumption of a direct study of life, a comprehension that art is reality interpreted by the artist, a return to the eternal rules of law and order in composition, a seeking after character and style of an essentially modern kind, and the necessity for saying simple things simply. But apart from the pictures and sculpture— which includes a curious experiment in the shape of a life-size terracotta figure enamelled in colours —there is much of interest among the decorative arts exhibits. Is is because we live in a mechanical age that we find bold geometrical designs attractive? These are all the fashion now with artistic bookbinders in Paris, and the specimens of them at the salon beautifully executed in brightly toned different coloured leathers arc exceedingly effective.

DECLINE OF FENCING.

Fencing, which used to be one of the foremost forms of physical exercises and -recreation in France, and particularly, in Paris, has lost much ground in late years, and its professors complain that it is being neglected unfairly by the authorities, who are showing greater favour to other sports and pastimes. This neglect would- appear to bo especially felt in the lycees and colleges, students being far less disposed to practice with.the foils than they were some years ago.

It is pointed out,' however, that as duelling has practically become a thing of the past there is no longer any incentive for young men to take up the exercise. Any leisure time they have for recreation is nowadays taken up with the playing of lawn tennis and football, and athletics.

THE FIRECREST.

As nearly all those who have been able to approach M. Alain Gorbault, the well-known navigator is sparing of words. He is so shy and averse to interviews especially, that little can be gleaned from his laconic answers to questions, but now and again he becomes expansive among his intimate friends, and it was on one of these occasions recently that he made an important statement concerning the fate of the Firecrest, the cutter in which he circumnavigated the world. ,

When the little boat left Paris for Havre recently it probably made its last voyage, for Gerbault has no further use for it, and is having a new one built for future sailings. But it will come as a surprise that he intends sinking the Firoerest in the sea. To his friends, who included M. Jean Borotra, the lawn tennis champion, over a luncheon table he confided that he would probably sink the boat at a deep spot outside Havre.

So deep is his sentiment for the craft that ho prefers thus to end its days than1 to see it put to othor uses. And yet the Firecro.st was not specially built for the Frenchman, though he converted it to his own needs. It is an English boat, having been designed by the late Dixon Kemp, and built by Mr. P. T. Harris at Rowhedge, Essex, in 1892. May one venture to hope that a model of the craft which performed such wonders will be made?

A WORD FOR GERBAULT.

Alain Gerbault is probably not enjoying the prospect of the limelight and lurelsithat will surely bo his at the dinnepthat the Yacht Club of France will offer in his honour, but he will certainly bo fascinated by the wonderful silver and gold globe that is being presented to him on that occasion.

This wonderful piece of workmanship is on view in Cartier's window. The globe itself is rough silver, with the continents raised a shade in silver gilt. The route taken by the lonely navigator is traced out in red, white, and blue enamel, while reading round the black ebonite stand are the worda,

"Unus Solus Circum Dedis Tv Mo 1923-1929."

On the crystal stand that supports tho globe are miniature replicas in enamel of his own flag, tho flag of tho Yacht Club of France, and his Legion of Honour insignia.' Altogether, it is a lovely thing, serious, essentially masculine, and very rare.

BLAMING THE "PICTURES."

It was 6 o'clock in tho morning, and Gaston, "the waiter of a cafe at the corner of the Rue Damremont, had just swept out the establishment. He was still a little sleepy, and as ho went into the courtyard to dispose of the dust he -had gathered up he yawned. Sleepily he took the lid off the dust bin, and then he started back.

He rubbed his eyes. Was he really awake, or was he dreaming? He looked again, and then again he rubbed hL eyes.- For there in the dust bin, curled up and fast asleep, was a little girl.

And, being a soft-hearted waiter and practical withal, he woke the littlo girl up and took her into the cafe, gave her some hot milk, and then listened to her story. She.was ten years old, she said. Her mother and father had been cross with her, and that morning she had got up very early and run away. But in a little while she became- so tired that she was glad to curl up in the empty dust bin and go to sleep.

In a little while came her parents, and there were tears and kisses. "But," said her father, "she must not go to the pictures any more, because it was the pictures that put it into her head."

DISLIKES CRITICISM,

There is a little restaurant near tho Grands Boulevards whose proprietor, otherwise an excellent host, has an extraordinary fault. It is that his pride in his restaurant and the food and wine he serves amounts almost to a mania, and many a client has been practically shown .the door for daring to offer a criticism.

It must be admitted that there is usually very -little to criticise, and it is rare that an old habitue ventures to do so, unless in fun, bu*;' now and again a new client toys with his chateubriand or pommes frites, and, little knowing what a storm he is about to bring down upon his defenceless head, tells tho patron that he has tasted better. After listening to five minutes of impassioned speech for the defence, the unfortunate 'usually finishes his meal • hurriedly and creeps away.

The other day the quality of the yin blanc was in question, and the patron, after closing the door firmly behind his erstwhile client, appealed to' his other guests. To prove the excellence of the wine, he offered a glass to the nearest, who promptly accepted, and ■ then, to another and still another. As he emptied the bottle he abruptly stopped, realising that he was venting his temper at tho expense of his pocket.

VISITORS FROM LILLIPUT.

Everybody and . everything artistic, sooner or later, come to Paris. So to Paris have come the marionettes. From many European, countries they have come—Germany, Belgium, Czecho-Slo-vakia, not to mention many towns in EVancc, such as Lyons, Lille, and Chateau-Thierry.. A whole world of Lilliputians, tiny folk packed away in big boxes in which they all promptly went sound asleep until Paris was reached, and someono took the lids off and all began to dance- and chatter on a tiny stage. With them, of course, came the big folk who go through life under tho perpetual delusion that marionettes are dolls, and only move when big folk pull the strings. And .the big folk have assembled round a .big table and solemnly called their-meeting a , congress of marionettes. There they have talked of many things, of exchange performances, between marionettes of Prague and Lyons, for instance, of marionette propaganda, of marionette exhibition. And then they- woko up the marionettes themselves and set them play-acting on-the littlo stage for everyone's enjoyment.