CORRESPONDENCE
A LETTER FROM PARIS [To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.] SIR, —The political truce, obtained by M. Briand's firmness, is only temporary ; but if he uses his authority he will never- theless be able to obtain the first victory of common sense and of the national interest. If we cast a glance back over the year 1925, it must be admitted that the reputation of our rulers has not been heightened, but the ways of Providence are mysterious ; and the fact remains that all that the revolu- tionaries had hoped to throw down is still standing. A national policy and not a party policy, the necessity for every- one to make sacrifices in the interest of our financial reform, authority and will-power—these arc the things that will save us in 1926.
The festivities of the last day of the year were as successful as those of Christmas Eye. In the expensive restaurants very few French people were to be seen. The prices were prohibi- tive for all except foreigners who were favoured by the rate of exchange. Most Parisians saw the New Year in joyfully at home. What happened in Montmartre ? Nothing more exciting than on every other night except that luxurious cars were more numerous than usual in the Place Pigalle. There is merry-making in Montmartre every night, and the Christmas and New Year's Eve suppers, by attracting new visitors, upset the habits of the professional noctambulists. A bottle of champagne cost 100 francs more, and the most simple cold repast was undiscoverable. One had to put up with the supper which cost from 80 to 300 francs per head, according to the establishment. In view of the impossibility of finding a table in the restaurants in Paris, many people went to Versailles or St. Germain. There, like everywhere else, they found jazz bands, paper caps and squeakers. Oh, the peaceful pleasures of the country I In the Montparnasse quarter the Rotonde was ablaze with light, and at one o'clock in the morning it was impossible to get inside. Here the revellers were mostly students, less reserved in their habits. One does not sup every evening, and turkey with chestnut stuffing can be eaten at a cheaper rate.
The Minister for War, M. Painleve, has just conferred the Cross of Chevalier de la Legion d'Honneur on Trumpeter Corporal Pierre Seller of the Reserve, who sounded the " Cease Fire " on Armistice Day when the German Plenipo- tentiaries had crossed our line to offer the capitulation of their country. Corporal Sellier was wounded several times and had already received the Military Medal. This cross is truly symbolical, for Trumpeter Sellier, a native of Beaucourt (Territory of Belfort) was employed, as were formerly his parents, at the Japy Works in Beaucourt, where the father of Corporal Peugeot, the first man killed in the War, has also always worked. And another striking coincidence—the last cannon shot of 1871, fired by invincible Belfort to say au revoir to Alsace led into captivity was fired by another native of Beaucourt, M. Henri Japy himself. Corporal Sellier, in -spite of his modest resources, has refused offers of considerable sums of money for his trumpet. He intends to hand over this historic object to the Army Museum.
The ceremony in celebration of the centenary of the illus- tribus artist, Louis David, who was born in Paris in 1748, and who died in exile in Brussels in 1825, took place in the David Room in the Louvre. The Directeur des Beaux Arts, standing in front of the picture entitled " The Coronation of
the Emperor," made a brilliant speech, in which he extolled the painter. We are always inclined to absolve from our errors and our doubts those whose renown has been established in previous centuries. In our eyes David is still the rigid do& trinaire, the law-maker of the Arts who took up the sceptre of dictatorship after Lebrun, and who wished to impose his stamp on the national monuments, the decoration of the capital, public ceremonies and even pieces of furniture by Jacob and dresses by Tahna. However, none was more sensitive, more changeable in his actions, more earnest in pursuit nor more uncertain of the goal.
Paris has just lost a great benefactress in the person of Mnie.'Cognacq. After having been a modest shop assistant Mme. Cognacq, in association with her husband, founded the Samaritaine Stores in the Rue de Rivoli in 1872, which later became one of the most important in Paris, thanks to hard work. Just as in the early days, and in spite of their immense fortune, husband and wife always went to their shop every morning at 9 a.m. They only left it at 7 o'clock in the evening. It is well known with what solicitude the Cognacqs watched over the lot of their employees. And this kindness had a vaster field of action, that of philanthropic works. Their gifts of nearly 50 million francs in encouragement of large families would alone suffice to keep their name green ; the Academie Francaise recently bestowed the grants of the Foundation to poor and deserving families, each having from ten to twenty children. As the Cognacqs had no social con- nexions, they had never taken a day's holiday for fifty years. They had only one passion, that of fine paintings, and their collection which was justly celebrated contained some master- pieces of the English school of the eighteenth century.
Recently, when present at a musical party given by the Marquis de Castellane in his beautiful flat, I could hardly imagine I was the guest of the author of the memoirs entitled The Art of Being Poor ; it was relative poverty, poverty in com- parison with the sumptuous and magnificent past. The Marquis de Castellane says somewhere in his book that he is a much discussed man. It would be useless politeness to contradict him on this point. In the first few pages of his memoirs, he relates that he learnt of the sentence of the divorce court from the mouths of his creditors, who, having had earlier information, were massed in his antechamber, already insolent and familiar. Among the small facts he has noted I may mention the case of the famous florist who, for a debt of 400 francs, sent a summons to the customer who had spent half a million in his shop in twelve years. It could be argued that this book is moral, not on account of the religious convictions of the author, but because it shows of what com- binations and concessions is made up the existence of a man of fashion, and because it lifts the veil from the unromantic side of brilliant lives.
Next spring Dame Nellie Melba will appear for the last time in Paris, in a farewell performance at the Opera. —I am, Sir, &c.,
YOUR FRENCH CORRESPONDENT.
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