Don't Say "Toy Soldier"

The most serious collectors of toy soldiers in the world have a club of their own--and bristle at the words "toy soldier." They are the members of Paris' Society of the Collectors of Historical Figurines, and they see nothing juvenile or toylike about their speciality. Far from it. To the devotee, each brightly painted hussar and mustachioed grenadier is an honest work of art, deserving the same patience and devotion in its creation as a Rodin statue.

The serious collector has whole regiments of infantrymen, squadrons of cavalry. Each must be perfect to the last detail: a handsome, 3-in. drummer in Louis XIV's army is done up in the flaming red, orange and white uniform of the period, with every button, every bit of lace exactly in place. France's handful of craftsmen (among them: an old widow, an ex-jockey, a chef) will spend an entire week fashioning the body for such a figure, then modeling the uniform out of tin leaf. It takes 40 delicate soldering operations to make King Louis' drummer fit to pass muster and about $30 hard cash to put him in a collector's cabinet.

Some collectors pay special prices for African tribal warriors, ancient Greeks or Roman legionaries. One specialist can proudly assemble a dramatic tableau of the rape of the Sabine women. But mostly the Paris trade is in old soldiers of Louis XIII, XIV, XV and the First Empire.

Last week, as they do each month, members of the society met to read learned papers, look at each other's new acquisitions, and maybe swap a few soldiers. Since 1931, the society's total membership (resident and nonresident) has grown to more than 400. Among the nonresidents; Selden Chapin. U.S. Ambassador to The Netherlands. Recently the society admitted ten Germans for the first time since the war. Conceded a French member: "They know a lot about uniforms and soldiers."

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