Putnam patriot., 1929-04-11

 Strasbourg, beyond the Porte St. Mar tin, that definite limit of the foreigner in Paris. Here is the home of the working man and the working woman. Here are the quarters of the humble. and here is probably the most French portion of Paris. We wandered about through the streets with the crowd We sat for half an hour over an aper- tiff in a big cafe and listened Co the conversation around about us and read our copy of Paris Soira Then we wandered into a side street, selected a small restaurant at random, went in and ordered dinner.
 At the desk sat Ms.eu, the proprie- tor. Madame and the daughter oI the house waited upon us. Nurkingmen in caps with stringy mufilers flung about their neeks were at dinner. Al corner table sat a blind young man, and opposite him a longhalred fellow with a violin on the table beside him. The conversation was fast and furious. The blind young man. evidently an ha- bitue of the house. had many a jest thrown to him from all the company. Some read their papers and discussed loudly the topics of the day. The din ner was plain but excellent, and We ate our 'pot-au-feu' and drank our .'pinard" with the rest.
 Dinner finished. the violinist began to play The din of conversation did not slacken for a moment Then, to attract attention, the violinist began to play the Soviet hymn, the "lnterna- tionale." Instantly the place was a riot. Everyone yelled and some sang, Not few threatened one another with their fists. Madame and M'sieu stood aghast. And then, as is SO typical with the French, at what appeared to be the moment of bloodshed, the young blind man called out something anus ing in argot. Instantly there was q shout of laughter and everyone was seated again. Then Madame found the young mans cane. eager hands assist ed him to the door, and with the gentle man of the squeaky violin he went out into the night
 We live to learn and one of the things that we most want t0 know Is something about modern French art. If you go to Paris you can't escape this new phase of the painters. Go to the Louvre and see the works of the great masters. Go to the Luxembourg and see the more modern painters and still the new school will confront you ai every corner. We want to be catholic in our tastes and in our knowledge but for the fife of us we can't make out this new school any more than We eaH understand the heterogeneous mass oi words and obseenity which seems tt comprise the modern school of writ ing. However, we are of an opef mind.
 So today we selected a friend wh, is all for the moderns in painting, ane we let him lead us to the exhibition of the Independents, meaning the inde pendent artists. Then we went to an other gallery and listened patiently while he tried in vain to delineate t' us the beauties of Gauguin, van Gogh Matisse. Cezanne, Picasso and For ain. Heaven help usl We said noth ing, for to us they seemed terrible And vet we were a little fascinated now and then. We snorted when oui friend declared that Marie LaurenclI was like a feminine Botticelli-(w' afterwards discovered that he had bor rowed the remark from Jan Gordon snlendid book on the French moderns but there was something about thu blue and pink and gray effect of Lau rencin's odd paintings that intrigued us. And there was vase of flower nainted by van Gogh which has strength and beauty. But we began C have brain flag over "cubists, "pointel lists" "modernists," and the like, an' we went home. Most of them, VI thought and think still, are perfectl! awful. Perhaps We are too old Co learn
 
 Today we awoke to the coldest weath CT we have ever known on the Cont nent of Europe. Paris E frozen Co th' marrow. The entire French nation swathed in mufhers and coats, IS in [ state of national resentment.
 "This is ridicglousl' cried Albert. ai he arrived with the breakfast thi' morning. eve are not equipped foi weather of this kind. Our houses ar' not heated for your abominable Ameri' can winter. We suiferi--" and SO on Dame Nature. in the opinion of tho Galiic nation, apparently, has insultcd the race beyond all hope of future for. givencss.
 Out in the streets, the cold strikes to inc marrow. That damp chill ass0. ciated by us forever with winter in Boston is intensified many times over Muracd Co the eyes, like so many Arat women, all Paris scurries hither and thithcr in a state of frigidity and m diOnation. All trains are late Somf do not come at all The markets are hacking in vegetables, the theatres and inc cafes are deserted. The florist shops are almost deprived of stock Everybody is grumbling and shiver ing. Hot groes are steaming in the brasscries Many of the taximen have gone home Co bed All of thein have lost their tempers and bundled like go many Sitting Bulls they drive un- wiilingly and beg for the backsheesh of a hot drink. The sky IS utterly black. Al the bus terminals and stopping places hundreds are pressed around e,reat charcoal braziers. From all over the land come dispatches telling or eulFerine. it is no time for Paris, so ,ye decide to set out and leave the city to ita misery. Tomorrow we take the Rlue Train, most famous m France. ana co south for the sunny shores or the Mediterranean and Cannes on the Cote q AA''s' v.B.