Evening Star Newspaper, December 12, 1926, Page 92

YR SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON. . DECEMBER 12 1926 —PART 5. Searchers for Savage Leader Saved From Trap by a Whistle Man Who Was “‘Dead’”’ Became a Great Mystery in Cannibal New Guinea [ In the preceding two articles Mr. Taylor has told of some of the dangers met by three white men in the interior of cannibal New | Guinea. Encountering human sac- rifice at the start, the expedition faced the wrath of a native sor- cerer, who attacked both with poi- son and with a venomous ser- pent. Later a savage youth, attached to the expedition as an interpreter. ‘ew sullen and bitter because of is desire to wear the tuft of feathers which the native can win only by killing a human being. ‘When one of the white men was injured by a fall. both he and the young cannibal disappeared. The situation was ominous. but next day both appeared. The young savage had saved the white man's life through fear of his “magic black box,” as the boy described a camera. BY MERLIN MOORE TAYLOR. T was a pig that started the dis- trict of Kapatea on a rampage It had wandered away from the village of Tavivi and died at the | foot of a precipice overlooking the boulder-studded little stream which separates Kapatea from Kevezzi, the district to the north. When the pig's owner found the carcass, he became exceedingly “wild" and hired a sorcerer to discover who had killed the brute. ‘The sorcerer whispered to his client that the pig had died as the result of the machinations of the chief sorcerer of the Kevezzi district. Thus he ac- complished two things at the same time, satisfied his employer and vented his envy and jealousy on his rival. The owner of the ‘pig, catapulting out of the hut, howled out the in- formation the sorcerer had imparted to him. He found it ridiculously easy to inflame the passions of his fellows against the people of Kevezzi. Be. tween the two districts had. blood of a sort already existed. So Kapatea went mad--stark. rav- ing mad—and prepared to avenge the ii\ix'fi death by wmaking war on {evezzi. Kapatea's chief did not share the madness of his people. In every such situation a leader is ever to be found. Kapatea found such a man in Yapitze of Tavivi vil lage. And what a leader! Although he could not strip the old chief of his hereditary title, Yapitze usurped all of his powers and became chief in fact. Speedily he assembled his forces and crossed the river into Kevezzi. There he abandoned the skulking warfare and ambushes which characterizes New Guinea fighting and attacked in the open. Speedily the villages of Kevezzi, dot- ting the grass-covered spurs of the mountains, were bathed in biood, while the terror-stricken survivors fled into the jungle. By “bush telegraph’ word of the up- rising gradually trickled down to the coast aifd into the ears of Magistrate Connelley at Kairuku, and an expedi tion was sent forth to bring ahout Peace among the natives. in the saw- * k¥ % WE stood knee-deep edged grass which lines the slope upon which thesgllage of Popoliata is ‘built and gazed acress the valley into Kapatea. Upon the opposite slope stood 200 or more Kapateans, and our field glasses told us they were mostly men, with a few youths mixed in. Neither ‘women nor children were to be seen, and the men and boyvs were armed. Even at that distance we could dis- tinguith bows, spears and clubs. Suddenly Humphries recalled that a constable had boasted he could speak ‘the Kapatean tongue and called him. “They say come on and ho he afraid,” Maikeli said in the English upon which he prided himeelf. After that invitation—or was it a challenge?—Humphries could do noth- ing but go ahead. If he held back |are on the man who led the payback,' white man's prestige would vanish in Kapatea. Yet if he went ahead, what aseur ance did he have that when we started up the opposite slope, clinging like flies to its steep side. the Kapateans would not shove those houlders over the edge and the huge rocks, hurtling down at tremendous speed, would not wipe out all of us? But there was na attack as climbed The group above parted to let two men pass through it One was a gigantic specimen of we that rippled under his ebony skin naked except for the hreech-clout made of the soft inner fiber of the tapa troe. | . Limping at his heels was a miserable | little individual. He was thin, and on his legs were unhealed Sores that seemed to pain him extremely. The eves under a rather high forehead were weak and watery | The big man pushed through the po- | lice. ignoring them as if they did not | exist, and came directly to the magis- | trate. | Then. thumping hie chest with his closed fista, he announced his own identity: “Aihi-Oal,” and with a care- less wave of the hand seemed to in- troduce his insignificant companion The magistrate, reaching to take the flaccid hand which the little man ex- tended, was surprised to hear himselt addresged in Motuan. Chief Aihi-Oai bids vou master,” he sald. “I am Muria,” added, ae if it didn't matter. ‘Muria,” Hmphries asked, * know why I am here?" Yes, master,” was the ready reply, it is fashion ‘govamen’ walkahout seeing what the villages are doing." “Kapatea,” said Humphries, sternly, “has been making war on Kevezzl. The ‘govamen’’ has gone very wild.” “Rut it is over now, master,” Muria said. “Kapatea's people have gone to theig villages again.” “Tt will not be over until_handcuffs welcome, hs you retorted Humphries grimly. Yapitze?" “One does not speak the name of the dead, master,” said Muria after a bit, a hint of reproof in his tone as he mentioned an anclent taboo. 'Per- haps you did not know. The man of whom you speak is dead.” Yaplize dead? It was hard to be- lieve. Still, the taboo on a dead man's name might have kept the fact of Yapitze's death from us. “He was ambushed and killed with Spear, master,” went on Muria. . 1t was not the people of Kevezzi who slew him, but & man from his own village of Tavivi, who envied his great strength and desired it for him- elf.”" That, too, I8 a mountain belief, that a slain man's virtues pass to the alayer. he one of whom you speak was buried?” Humphries asked, and Muria replied in the affirmative. “Very well,” said Humphries, rising to signify the interview was ended, “tomorrow I start for Tavivi—and you shall lead me.” “Tavivl! No, master, I do not go to Tavivl” The protest was wrung from Muria’s lips and he gazed plead. ingly at the white man. “I have nothing to do!with Tavivi, master. 1 do not know the way. “Tavivi is in Kapatea,” insisted the magistrate. “Surely you visit a vil- lage of your own tribe.” But Murfa did not answer. He had turned to Chief Aihi-Oal and was talk- Ing rapldly and earnestly with him. Apparently he was passing on the re. quest and the chief was vetoing it. Watching their faces, It conld be seen that in some way fear was the reason for the refusal. In one's heart one could not blame them. * X % ¥ BAD place, this village Tavivi, quite the spot which would give birth to a fiend such as Yapltze. It would not lightly forgive the man who led it now into the hands of the “govamen’,” In view of its part in the recent warfare, ‘would be a marked “Whera a merely | manhood, with great, bulging muscles | “I SEIZED MY SHIRT BY THE NECKBAND AND PULLED IT O VER MY HEAD. THEN I STEPPED TOWARD THFE SAVAGES.” Humphries took occasion to pass the word to all the police to he on their guard against treachery. Finally he gave the order to start. ‘The warriors followed to the gate of the village and stopped there. Ap- parently they would go no farther. Only Muria and the big chief passed on to the head of the line. Humphries and the rear guard were the last to leave. So we white men, the police and the carriers tagged along at the heels of the big savage and his little hench- man over trails that were excellent as far as Papuan trails go. Occasionally we came to a village and were received by the people quiet- Iy and with apparent friendship, but it was to the “number one chief,’ Aihi-Oal, and his diminutive compan- fon, always at his heels or elbow, that *he natives paid deference. With Muria acting as interpreter, the magistrate asked many questions in thess villages and always the re- plies were identical. At these conferences Constable Mai- keli_stood close, his face inscrutable ax he listened Kkeenly and never by so much as the flicker of an eyelash be- traying that he understood what was being sald. Muria, so Maikeli said, was trans- lating truly and had made no effort to influence the replies. It was all very open and above board on the face of things, and it was for this very reasen +hat the magistrate worrled. Bit by bit Humphries became con- vinced that, if he could but uncover it, we were being made the victims of a plot or a hoax. it had been four days now since Alhi-0ai and Muria had undertaken to guide us to Tavivi and in that time they should have reached any point in Kapatea. No native district is so0 large that it could not be spanned in lh:& time. noon the next day we still were battling our way across the jungle- clad mountains and some one, acci. dentally glancing at his compass, dis coveted that we ‘had turned around and were returning whence we had now, he knew government fear and man. come! We were just then halted in a tiny village. Upon a log to one side sat Muria and Chief Afhl-Oal. Humphries' eyes strayed in that direction and for a moment he regarded them contem- platively. Then he jumped to his feet. “That little savage is tricking us," he said, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I'm going over to have It out with him.” Humphries' hand flashed out and laid tight hold upon the shoulder of the little gulde and whirled him about. Then he brought the palm of his hand down sharply acroas the cheek of the black man, brought it back and slapped his other cheek with a back- handed motion. Muria started back and his weak little eves flamed hatred and vindic- tiveness. Then the tears began to fall, the blood ran from his distended nostrils and he crumpled up, sobbing and groveling at our feet. “Taubada!” he cried, “I do not know where Tavivi is.” * x x % J{UMPHRIES signaled to the near est constable. “Put cuffs on him,” he ordered, and Muria was jerked to his feet and the irons were fastened to his wrists. He turned back to Muria. “You'll lead us to Tavivi or I'll take you down to the coast and put you in jall. Per- haps I'll kill you,” he threatened un- | truthfully, Muria began to howl. “'The men of Tavivi are bad, master. They will kill me.” “The ‘govamen’ ' will protect you.” Suddenly Muria ceased to dab at the mingled blood and tears upon his tace. “It 1= well, master,” he said. go to Tavivi" Humphries nodded. Then he called ® constable. From one of the packa a rope was obtained and knotted firmly to the chain connecting the handcuffa on the gulde's wrists. The other end of the rope was looped about the con- atable’s walst with about 6 feet be- tween the two men. “Now, understand me, Muria,” sald “We the hand- | Humphries. “If you try to run, the constable will kill you. If we are at- tacked some of us may die, but you will dle firat. Do you understand? Lead us right and when we reach Ta- vivi you will be free.” That he knew the way became speedily apparent. The last of the carriers was under way when I discovered a 50-pound mat of rice had been overlooked. Angrily I bent over, picking up one end while Conatable Dengo reached for the other. At that Instant there was a whish- ing sound, and as I instinctively leaped back an arrow burfed itself in the mat of rice. My, startied eyes rested for an in- stant \ipon the glowering face of old Aihi-Oal peering out at me from the underbrush near by, then he was swallowed up by the jungle. Dengo and I seized the rice, plucked out the |arrow and trotted after the carriers. From the jungle burst a chorus of disappointed “yelis, and I shuddered. A few inches' difference in the trajectory of that arrow and it would have plerced me through Along late in the next afternoon the trafl we were following widened sud denly and we knew that we were close to a village. The gate in the village stockade when we eached it stood invitingly |open. We walked up to it slowly and | 1ooked Inside. The . village was un- | usually large and flanking the wide central street were 30 or 40 stanchly built huts. But not a living thing was in sight. Cautfously we shepherded our entire party inside and lined it up against the stockade where the carriers’ backs would be protected if it came to a fight. The police stationed themaselves at intervals in front. “Muria, what village is this?" asked Humphries. “Master,” came the reply in a voice in which pride was noticeable, “this is my proper village. “Your own village, eh? | 1age 1s that?" “Master, this is Tavivi.” We stared at the little cannibal un- i bellevingly. What vil- “Where in the body of the dead man?’ asked Humphries. Stlently Muria raised his manacled hands and indicated the other end of the village. Above the thatched roofs rose the point of a burial platform, and even from that distance we couid ses that the platform held a body of some kind. Humphries ordered Muria freed. “Come with us,” he sald, “and do not try to run. If you have told the truth you may go. If you have Ii and try to escape I shall kill you.” EEE _glIDDENLT there was a cry from h Murfa and from one of the huts dashed a black form straight for As we reached for our weapons we saw that it was a woman. She flung Eerself upon Muria with little cries of what seemed ilke foy. But all the time she kept looking toward the far gate and there was fear in her eves. “Vavine 1ao," sald Muria, answering our unspoken question. ‘IShe in my woman, master, and she says that I | must die.” “The ‘govamen’ will protect you,” the magistrate assured him. “What have you done that vour own village should say you di Murla’s face was troubled and he, too, glanced toward the far gate. “Master, it is the pay-back,” he re- plled. “It was I who killed the man who lies upon the burial platform.” 1 wanted to laugh. It was impossi- ble of belief. This little man the slayer of the redoubtable Yapitze? But | then, it what we had been told was true, the killing had been done from ambush, It might be true, after all. My eves straved toward the burial platform, and in that instant the far gate suddenly filled with savage faces, black bodies pushed and jostled their way inside of the stockade, and In a twinkling a hundred fighting men be- gan to move slowly toward us. Instantly Humphries and I began moving back toward our party. Muria, with the woman's arms around him, stood as if paralyzed. We heard the corporal shoutirg out an order, and the police swung into skirmish line across the village street. Then we turned te look hack over our | shoulders. The savagas were charg- | ing now, brandishing their weapons, | velling flercely “Treacher: ad Constable Maikeli. nus into a trap.” Then for the first time 1 saw the little gnide move. He thrust the woman away from him and bent over master, treachery!” vell. | Muria has Y'd‘ {#0 that the little netted hag around | his | plunged his hand, and when he drew neck dangled free. Into it he| it out again he placed it to his mouth High above the tumnit of the charg- | ing savages the shrill blast of a whistle cut the air—once, twice, thrae times. T'pon alectrical. r tracks and haunches! Murfa was shrieking at them now. The words fairly poured from his lips as he walkad toward the squatting | warrfors, and, pausing a few vards from them, he shouted some Iast command. The whistle went to his lips again. Once it sounded, and the savages sprang to their feet, whirled and went back the way they had come. The woman had made her wi the side of the little cannibal now. He signed her to follow the warrlors. Then Muria turned toward us, and from his lips came a burst of laughter, loud, triumphant, mocking. The next instant he, too, was legging it for the far gate as fast as he could go. “What doea it mean?' What did he say to them?' asked Humphries ex- citedly in Motuan. Constable Malkeli shoek. hiz head. “He was so far away I understood only a few words,” he replied. ~“He told them to listen to the whistle of the master and obey and then he told them to go.” *xw HUMPHRYES stroked his chin thoughtfully and gazed down the village street toward the gate through which Muria had just vanished. ““So far as chasing the Kapatea peo- ple is concerned, we are, as the n. tives say, ‘all finish’,” he said. “With- out some kind of & gulde we'd simply run ourseives around in circles and get nowhere, in addition te eating up the small amount of food we have lett.” “'On the other hand, here wa are at Tavivi. No white man ever has pene- trated bevond it, to my knowledge. Over there to the east lies the Pole range. What is between here and there we don't know. What is to be found on the Pole we don't know. If we can get up to it and follow it southward, we'll get to the coast in time." It dldn't 1ake long to decide. Down- ing voiced my own thoughts, and I knew that Humphries was of the same mind. “Luck's with us,” said Downing, the photographer. Let's push on to the Pole range, to the east, and take & chance. Our way one morning lay along the top of the ridge, and it puzzled us that we saw no blacks. But I could not rid myself of a feeling that the jungle about us was not as deserted as it seemed. An ominous sort of quiet hung over it, and walking behind the two police- men who were Jeading, T noticed that they, too, seemed uneasy. Suddenly the leading policeman stopped abruptly and pointed a shak- Ing finger. Not a hundred yards dis- tant the rise was covered with armed natives, silhouetted against the sky! Only for a minute or two were they in_sight before they disappeared. We moved onward cautiously and came suddénly iInto a little clearing. As we entered It there was a crack- ling of the underbrush, savage vells burst upon our ears, and the jungle about us, only a moment before devoid of ‘all sound or movement, be- came literally alive with natives and bristled with their weapons! the villagers the effact was As one man they halted in dropped to their In the one brief look which I flashed to | about me 1 saw an ever-converging circle closing down upon us, thefr eruel faces alight with thougl the feast to come. Then the shrill blast of & whistle cut the air—once, twice. three times— and I knew that from far in the rear Humphries and more police wers rushing to our ald. T realized that they could net arrive in time. Why we had not already heen tramplad under foot puzzied me. This inchinz along toward us was not |at all in keeping with bush warfare ax I had understood it, whers all iz staked upon a quick and powerful rush. Why? Why? Why? ok ok [JKE a flash the anawer to that “ question and the solution of the problem upon which three lives ware staked flashed into my mind 1 dropped the revolver and swept the broad-brimmed hat from my head. seized my shirt hy the neckband and puiled it over my head. Then 1 stepped toward the savages. Was I right, or was I to pay for my fool- hardiness with my life? For the length of time it takes a clock to tick half a dozen times we atood there facing each other, those naked savages and 1. Then they stirred uneasily, there was a wavering in their midst, a few sharply exhaled breaths, a long- drawn-out ‘“‘vou.ees" from one of them, and they were in wild flight, running down the trall for their very lives, charging through the under- brush, tripping over roots and stones and vines, shrieking wildly and fight- ing each other to get away from there! 1 had guessed right. They never had seen a white man hefore, and, atolpped to the walst, with the sun- beams flashing upon my skin, I had satruck terror into the very marrow of their beings! I shall not tell of how finally we found our way to Popole, rested thers a couple of days, then made our way down the missionary-made road to the coast. It was a hard bit of travel, but devoid of anything that would intereat the casual reader. When we were saving good-by, Kalva, village constable of Maipa, said something to the effect that back in the mountains where lles Kapatea a man may be dead, according to & na- tive, but be very much alive from the white man's viewpoint. “I wonder,” sald Humphri he meant that Yapitze still lives. Months later the postman brought me a letter from Downing. It in- closed two clippings from Australian papars, The first clpping told of a patrol sent Into the Papuan Mountains to visit some of the tribes in the territory to which we had penetrated. “At a village named Tavivi" it went on, “the patrol found strong opposi- tion and was driven back by the sav- ages under the leadership of a mys- terious individual, Yapitze, who was once reported dead.” “Yapitze!" I said excitedly to my self. “Could it be that we were hoaxed after all, and that Yapitze is still alive.” 1 seized the second clipping. “There is a peculiar custom among some of the mountain tribes of Papua, according to a recent discovery, sald. “When a savage slays another whose strength and prowess he en- vies. he may take the name of his victim, and.” according to the belief of the natives, with the name he ob- tains all the dead man's qualities which he admires.” Comprehension burst upon me. Ya- pitze, the diminutive of body but mighty of brain, bad ambushed and slain Muria, the chief he envied, and discarded his own, name for that of the murdered man. So far as he and hiz fellows were concerned, Yapitze was dead, but Muria lived. In our ignorance we had hoaxed ourselves. The man we wanted had been with us for days, leading us in our search for himself. (Oewyright. 1926.) e France BY GEORGE SLOCOMBE. HE greatest French writer since the death of Anatole France has just been nom inated French Ambassador to ‘Washington in the person of Paul Claudel. By this appointment the French Government signifies its intention to maintain and honor the traditional intimacy between the arts of diplomacy and literature. Chateau- briand provided the most famous ex- gmple of the writer turned diplomat, or the diplomat turned writer, but in his case diplomatic honors were valued more greatly than the celebrity he gained as a man of letters. The re- verse is the case with M. Claudel, who is first and foremost a writer, poet and philosopher, and on whose philos- ophic shoulders the favors of courts and the esteem of monarchs rests lightly. The French Government's decision should give great satisfaction in both France and the United States, for not only is Paul Claudel the fore- most living representative of letters and the drama in his own country, but a diplomat of skill and experience, a sympathetic and able student of American affairs and a man of great personal charm. The new ambassador was bhorn some 58 years ago in Picardy, on those slopes where the apple orchards of the old French province give way gently to the flat vineyards of Cham- pagne. He studied in Paris, with a view to entering the carriere, and be- fore he was 20 had made his mark as a poet of promise among the gifted French youth, the jeunesse doree of the '80s. Later the early promise de veloped into real genius, and this ®genius is consistently exhibited in the many poems and plays he has pro duced during a long and varied career. M. Claudel's debut as a public servant was made in the consular service. He was successively French vice-consul in Boston, where he spent severa] years in the early part of this century; in China, where he lived for nearly 15 years, learning the language and becoming acquainted with the arts and the philosophy of the Chinese, and in_Germany, where he was consul at Frankfort before the war. In 1918 he was attached to the French legation in Brazil. In the fol owing vear he was sent to Washing ton as member of the French econ omic mission. Subsequently he he came minister to Denmark and finally Ito mysticism. The keynots of his per- Selects Her Greatest Man of Letters for Post Here wildly from the preciosity ot Marcel Proust to the jazzhand-and-cocktall satires of Paul Morand—another writ- ing diplomat now attached to the French legation In Slam—Claudel is noteworthy as the leader of a return sonality, of his work and his life lies in his passionate mysticism. Like the late Alice Meynell, in the pure and beautiful poet Meredith devoted a long and platonic passion expressed only in a recently published correspondence, Claudel's attitude to life and its first cause is one of religlous adoration. 'He is a supreme mystic, and as such his suc- cession of that arch cynic and pagan philosopher, Anotole France, as the greatest living French writer appears like an fronje instance of natuwal com- pensation. His myaticism is not a literary affec ~ By Paul Tt is not new This that the ete Articles of the Reveal to us. It is as if we had And intimate. And if we are give What are they but tation, hut the expression of a real re- ligious preoccupation. At the age of 18 Paul Claudel had | ambassador to Japan, and he has lived for the last three years in Tokio. where he has just been notified of hix translation to the highest diplomatic post the French government can offer Bince the war, it will be noticed. his romotion has been rapid. To jump rom attache in Rio de Janeiro to ambassador to the United States eight years is no light success for french diplomat, and many French senators who have SWashington embassy covetously for some years past will be bitterly dis appointed at the preferance of a mere ‘writer over a politician. * X ¥ ¥ 0 Yving man of letters in France enjoys a greater audience than ul Claudel. His influence on neh thought and French writing Is considerable. In an age remarkable for its cynical return to the realism of e Flaubert and Georges land scheels, with the current of intelles- tus) interest in France swaving ¥ what was rare enough among the lartificially sentimental, amorons and {hlage vouth of France in the early | '80%. 2 religious “revelation.” Real or |imaginary, the effect of the phenom- {enon an his vouthful, ardent and im- | aginative mind was profound and last |ing. From that day to this the new In | ambassador to Washington has heen | music of two .Japanese ballets he i practicing Catholic. He attends | mass daily and his creed is a living € |and intellectual belief to him. | | The mysticism of this original and | rare writer is apparent in the very| | titlex of his plays. ““The Tidings Brought to Mary” had an instant sue- cess in France, Germany and Ne York, where it was produced by the Theater Guild not long ago. Other dramatic works, not yet translated into English, carry the same curl- ously ardent message from an old fashioned Catholic writer. “The Town,” “The Exchange” which Jacques Copeau first produred at the Vieux Colembler, in Paris: “The \ MYSTERIES A Fragment Translated from the New French Ambassador's Poem “Crado.” by George Slncombe, So human is this knowledge Where we would have explanations, | Between a man and his wife, Retween a child and its mother? .| Aigures in paper to explain his ideas Hostage,” “Dry Bread” and “Rest on the Seventh Day” are among the most interesting products of the In- tellectual theater in France for many years past. I e ITH all this old-fashioned and honest faith in the divine order, this great French poet is neither a crank nor a faddist nor an ascetic He is a tall, handsome man, hix face strongly featured, bronzed and vital, his hair crisping thickly over ona temple. He is a powerfully built, muscular athlete, a mountain climber and a lover of outdoor sports. His interest in the arts is omnivorous. He deplores his inability to draw, would give half his talent to be ahle to draw or sculpt. He plavs impa- tlently and curiously with a pencil and exclaims with mock horror at the crude, childish and fantastic Claudel. rnal ‘redo always known it, n mysteries the mysteries mcrawls he makes. Yet he can inapire and even direct the artistic impulse in others. During his recent years in Japan he employed a Japanese craftsman to execute the fancies of his own imag- ination, and the results are described by a close friend of the ambassador ax highly successful. He induced a Japanese musiclan to execute his own motives and scheme for the wrote — “The Japanese Soul” and | "Woman and Her Shadow"—and the | costumes and scenery for the ballets | were the products of a real collabora- tion between the author and his Jap- anese painter, the writer-ambassador | himself cutting up and coloring little and indicate his decorative scheme. Perhaps the most interesting event {of Paul Claudel's career is his col- | laboration with the young French composer, Darius Milhaud, in the pro- duction of ballete and operas. Four- teen vears ago Darius Milhaud, him self in the diplomatic service, met Claudel at Frankfort, where the ) 4 THE NEW FRENCH AMBASSADO]} TO WASHIN IDEL. CLAU } TON, PAUL Drawing by Joseph Cummings Chase writer was consul. Tn their firat con- versation Paul Claudel captured the imagination of the younger man with his project for an opera based on the immortal, tremendeus triology of Joschyl and the two began imme- diately to work on the theme, Claudel writing his libretto from the Greek and the composer creating new musie themes for the great tragedies. Later [} Paul Cléudel. New Ambassador to the United States, Represents Union of Arts of Diplomacy and Literature—First and Foremost a Poet, Dramatist and Philosopher, He Brings High Honors to the Diplomatic Service—His Work Marks a Re- turn to Mysticism, in Contrast to Influence of Anatole France. they met again—in the French lega- tion at Rio de Janeiro, where Mil- haud was Claudel's junior. They be- gan to work upon a ballet, “Man and His Desire,” which was produced by the Swedish Ballet Company in New York three years ago. Darfus Milhaud, now the most sue- cessful of the younger school of French musicians, said of Claudel in a recent conversation with the pres- ent writer: “The word genins is often abused, but in the case of Paul Clau- del it is incontrovertible. He is a man of torrential energy, of immense in- terests, of magnificent imagination. To know him is to admire him, to be overwhelmed by him. His mysticism may be explained in two words—he is a devout Catholic. The faith is the man. He has studied the Bible in- tently, and some di he may publish his commentaries on it. They will serve to reveal the remarkable versa- tility and intellectual range of the man." M. Claudel is now in Tokye. Re- fore he arrives in America to take up his new post in Washington he will spend some time in Paris to confer with his vernment and to marry his eldest daughter—the eldeat of five children—to M. Bonami, & young de- butant in the French diplomatic cir- cles. M., CLAUDELS appointment to * Wachington, as I have said, will disappoint a number of rival can- didates for the post. It is no secret in Paris that the Washington Em- bassy has seriously occupled the) thoughts of every French Government since 1918. French relations with the United States have suffered consid- erably from the shifting character of the personnel in Washington, and since the war a valn search has been made for a diplomat of sufficient standing, social, intellectual and po- litteal, thoroughly to represent France in a post so important. The search has been further complicated by the necessity of adding a knowledge of financial problems to a general expe- rience in diplomaecy. The difference between embassy appointments to Fngland and to Anisrica 18 that while the former demands ambassadorial distinctions of a high political order, the outstanding questions between France and Great Britain being chiefly political in their nature, the are no such political questions at is- sue between France and the United States, and the great problem is finan- cial and economie. This pre-eminence of the financial * % % % ernment’s faith in his capacity to treat of financial problems and his ®eneral fitness to represent France. In political circles there is no douht that the experience of Franco-Ameri- can finances gained by the Ambhassa- dor during his service on the French economic mission to America at the end of the war was a powerful fac- tor in influencing his appointment to Washington. During the next few months there will be impertant de- velopments in the French financial situation. The desire of the Poincare government te stabllize the franc with the aid of American and British finance investa the mission of M Claudel with an importance more largely financial than politieal. By the character of his relations with the Washington Government and with Wall' Street the success or fall- ure of M. Poincare’s financial poliey 1= likely to be decided. Gem for December It cold Decembar gav. e month of snow and ice and mirth. ace on your hand a turguoise hlus— Success will bless whate'sr you do. ou birth. HE turquof; the natal stone for December, is the gem of | liberty and benevolence. It is | emblematic of success and has been prized since the be- ginning of recorded history for the good fortune it brings to its possessor. In olden times this stone was used as | a charm against all forms of evil and its great symbolic purpose was to help the apiritual person to resist the weakness, evil and temptations so in- termixed 'with material life. The turquoise has long been and is at the present time used in the Orfent as a remedy for dyspepsia, hernia, insanity and cancer. Whether taken alone, mixed with honey or with a drug, it was used as a cure for epi- lepsy. In cases of polsoning or anake- bite it was given with wine. If worn as an amulet the turquoise brought happiness, dispelled fear and rendered its wearer safe from drowning, light- ning stroke and snakebite. Through- since remote antiquity. When of finest quality it possess a biue tone. soft and pleasing, like the color of the clear sky, but often its value Is lessened by a greenish cast, and.in many stones the green predominates. The mineral is but slightly harder than glass and may be worked with eane. even by primitive people pos- sessing the crudest tools, Chemically it is a phosphate of aluminum carrying small quantities of copper and fron, to which its color is due. At present, among civilized na- tions, the turquoise Is outranked in value by the diamond. ruby, emerald and sapphire, although over some minds the wonderful hlue of the tur- quoise wields a fascination shared by no other stone. With many semi civilized peoples, however, this gem takes foremast rank, and its valus de- pends not only upon fits {intrinsic worth but also upon the mystic pro) erties and religious signification it is supposed to possess. The stone is a most highly prized out modern times in Egypt the tur- quoise has been used as a remedy for catdracts, specimens thus employed being engraved with the sacred name of Allah. In Germany the turquoise is favored for engagement rings, owing to the belief that if either party prove inconstant tha stone will make the fickleness known by weak- ening in color, The Pima Indlans of southwestern Arizona, who at an early period had perhaps a higher degree of culture than any other tribe living north of Mexico, believed that the loss of a turquoise is due to magic and that the unfortunate loser will be aficted with some mysterious ailment that will yield only to the skill of a medi- cine man. The Pueblo and Apache Indians empfyed 1t & rainstone, which, they say, is always found con- cealed at the foot of the rainbow. These tribes place pieces of turquoise on their bows and firearms as direct- ing charms fer trueness of aim. In ancient times the turquoise was used as a protecting charm for horses, fssue in Franco-American relations has caused the names of many promi- nent Frenchmen to he mentioned as candidates for the vacant post. M. Caillnux himself might have heen of- fered the embasay, If his chief politi- cal oppopent had not happened to be premier in the person of M. Poincare. The e offer of the embassy Clande! indicates his gov- mules and camels and was carried by jockeys, huntsmen and horsemen as a symbol of special protection. The Romans believed that so long as a horseman carried a plece of turquoise with him while riding he would never have an accident, nor would his horse be fatigued. The turquoise has been prized for its beauty ‘nd perfection of color wi possession of the Navajo Indians in the desert of Arizona and of the Arab on the plains of Arabla, and the Ti- betan and Mongolian natives esteem the gem no less than do the Hopl and the Zuni pueblo dwellers in our own Southwest. By virtue of ita parallel use in parts of the Orfent and America and its curious Introduction into legends and myths of diverse and widely separated peoples. the turquolse carries ¢on siderable ethnologic interest. It was the good fortune of an expedition un der the auspices of the National Geo- graphic_Society while excavating at Pueblo Bonito In 1925 te unearth one of the most valuable turquoise neck- laces now in existence. This neck lace, now on display in the gem hall of the United States National Museum, e so perfect in color and workman- ship that, hesides being of great eth- nologic interest, it is a priceless article of jewelry. The turquoles, in common with the pearl and opal, requires constant care on the part of the wearer in order that its beauty may not be impaired. Its comparative softness and its ten- dency to change in color afford ample opportunity for its delicate tint to he marred or even entirely destroyed by carelesaness. The gem should never be worn in contact with other stoi nor be allowad to strike or rub against of any kind. else its surfacrs becoms roughened and dull.