CORRESPONDENCE .
AN ENGLISHWOMAN'S IMPRESSIONS ' OF THE PARIS EXHIBITION
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.]
Sm,—This is no learned treatise on the Exposition des Arts Decoratifs ; no technical description of any one section ; nor an expert's account of any of the exhibits. It is merely the passing and therefore necessarily superficial impression of a summer traveller.
I had no guide ; I had no set plans ; I knew only that the Champs Plysees entrance was the most convenient way to enter the Exhibition and that I should do well to start by entering the Grand Palais. I knew I had no time for a detailed inspection, and I went therefore eager for impressions, my mind blank and expectant. And my impressions were and remain altogether delightful.
Indeed I would urge any waverers to waver no longer ; to spend £10 now on a visit to Paris, before the Exhibition , closes, and deny themselves later if they must. Who would not do without a frock, or a few plays, if she could get in exchange the stimulus, the entertainment, that such a visit must give to all but the mentally slumberous ?
Each person, each object, each country must be judged on its own merits : yet this year we English are bound to compare Wembley with Paris. ' Now, from the artistic point of view there is frankly no comparison at all, either in setting, in general plan, or in display. In Paris we bow to the master- hand, to the sure touch, to the experience that has become intuition, that knows clearly and down to the last detail where and how each building must be placed, where and how each object can be. seen to the best advantage. The Frenchhave incorporated the Seine they have utilized the Pont Alexandre III. that has its shops on either side, and their love of trees has stood them in good stead. Beneath their shade stand the restaurants of many 'inflow or the humbler refreshment booths, where, in the intervals of. sight-seeing, one may drink a mug of Pilsener beer, foaming and cool, watch a gaufre being made, sprinkled with icing sugar, and eat it while it is still hot,, or eat an ice off a stick —no easy feat—for a franc.
As I looked about me, I laughed. I was indeed in a new and humorous ' world. What did the Fite Brigade Station, ' for instance, care for tradition, with its white watch-tower that shot gaily up into the'sparkling air, and its fire-engine ready to dart out of its scarlet stable ? What did the Polish Pavilion, with its pointed glass tower, or the Czecho-Slovakian Pavilion, with its startling red-tiled walls, care for all the conventions, of what anyone else had built or planned ? And this freedom from the trammels of the past gave a sense . of lightness and of life it is dialcult to describe. The modern world will certainly be an entertaining place to live in, from the artistic point of view,' so long, at any rate, as it remains spontaneous.
Nor had the decorative value of water been forgotten. Mosaic or red-brick tanks bordered with shrubs or flowers added distinction to several of the buildings, and one fountain in particular caught my fancy, in which the figure of a youth lay on his elbows in a pool looking upwards at some creature above spouting water.
The hall of the Grand Palais is vast as some temple of antiquity ; vast and spacious, and great, enough for the thoughts of men. Up the flight of steps climbed little men and women, looking no bigger than monkeys ; they disap- peared down alley-ways, leading to the exhibits of all the nations.
What is the use of giving a list of the things to be seen in the French Section alone ? That section would take a day, at least, to inspect even superficially, and as much attention should be paid to the manner of display, to the show-cases, the `lighting arrangements, and to the grace and care with which each object is shown, as to the things themselves : the glass, the china, the silks and tapestries, the frocks and hats, the thousand and one articles de luxe, which have made the French, commercially and artistically, famous.
The jewellers have surpassed themselves. They have
carved, not merely cut, precious stones ; they have combined them with lustrous enamel ; originality and the finest work- manship have clasped hands. I gazed at a rope of emeralds, unpolished and cut to the shape of lotus buds, separated by rubies and pearls, at case after case of pendants and fobs of diamonds and pearls, of plaques and earrings. Who wear these jewels ? Who can afford them to-day, except the favourites of the stage and screen, or the wives and sweethearts of the merchant princes of North and South America ?
One room is given up to the work of French children, to the toys and dolls and frocks they have evidently delighted to make, and upstairs there is a room gay with the paintings of Viennese school-children.
In section after section the creative work of different peoples expressing their national characteristics may be studied—the dignity of the Swedes in their lovely glass, engra vied or coloured ; the thirst for colour and the sense of design, much of it Eastern in feeling, of the Poles ; the naiveté of the Czecho-Slovaks in their peasant toys and pottery ; the prodigality of the Italians in their tone of decoration and rich materials. As far as I know, the British are the only people who have a section devoted to religious art : they have stained glass windows, a painted cross, memo- rials and a recumbent figure in marble, designed for some church, as well as books and textiles and much besides.
Recently I picked up a copy of the Times and read an appeal from the British Chamber of Commerce in Paris, urging British manufacturers to visit the Exposition before it closes in October. So even those to whom a visit to Paris would be of material benefit are apparently letting their opportunities slip, as well as thousands of others, who might, if they would, step into a new and entrancing world.—I am,
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