"Terrible Gravity"

The Popular Front Cabinet of middle class Premier Camille Chautemps faced a reconvened Chamber of Deputies last week, won a vote of confidence 399-to-160 after alarming revelations which the Premier led up to by saying:

"I wish to speak of an affair the size of which, both in the money spent and the origin of the arms seized, represents terrible gravity."

Shocked was France to learn that search by State operatives of 450 homes and shops in all parts of the country had netted by this week: 120,000 rifle and pistol cartridges; 500 machine guns; 65 submachine guns; several anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns; 17 sawed-off shotguns and 134 rifles, together with two tons of high explosives. Antique dealers, garage proprietors, members of the nobility and bargemen were among those arrested.

Significantly the Premier spoke of those involved and arrested as "criminals," strictly abstained from hinting that the State had uncovered a political conspiracy. The seized arms were of German, British, Italian manufacture. Some of the arms caches resembled cement pillbox forts, some contained radio equipment, and detectives were tracing private telephone wires they had discovered. Most neutral Paris correspondents agreed with the New York Times that it was too early to guess whether what had been partially uncovered was the makings of a coup d'etat or simply the stock in trade of French smugglers busy catering to the needs of Spain's civil war.

Meetings of Les Cagoulards ("The Hooded Men") were rumored. But nothing more definite on this fabulous, supposedly extreme Rightist French Ku Klux Klan officially came to light.

Bearded French Minister of Interior Marx Dormoy had double details of steel-helmeted, rifle-equipped Gardes Mobiles posted at the entrances to key Cabinet ministries, including his own. Their orders: "After 9 p. m. shoot to kill anyone who, after being challenged twice, attempts to enter without showing his special pass or giving the password." Under these elaborate precautions nobody was shot.

This week the Duc de Guise, bewhiskered pretender to the vanished throne of France, attempted from his Belgian exile to create an impression that what was afoot was a coup to crown him. "We have decided," royally manifestoed Guise again, as he often has before, "to reconquer the throne of our fathers! The monarchy, while protecting the Church, will not be clerical."

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