The Press.
London, England, 1858-01-09 00:00:00

THE PRESS, JANUARY 9, 1858.

despatch-boat Coquette, from Alexandria, with a
telegraphic despatch of the Bombay news, on Wed-
nesday morning last, the intelligence was imme•
diately despatched to the Home Government and
the leading London journals, &c. By seven a.m.,
that is to say, four hours after the arrival of the
Coquette, the transmission of the despatches from
Government had already been completed. We hear
that messages have been sent to London from Malta
in less than one hour, and vice versa in from two to
three hours."

THE FRENCH PRESS.
A NEw weekly paper, under the able editorship of M.
Granier do Cassagnac, has just appeared in Paris.
The first article in this new periodical, written and

signed by M. G. d 9 Cassagnac himself, is a critical
review of the existing state of French literature, and
contains some admirable remarks upon its character
at the present day.
M. de Cassagnac opens his article as follows :
SILENCE TO ORGIES.

It is a peculiarity of sensible people never to undertake
anything without a motive. We therefore wish to submit
to the appreciation of those who honour us with some
esteem the object we have in view in accepting the editor.
ship, the dangers, and the honour of a periodical literary
publication.
It.
It, &.,I.( he evident to all men that at the present day
political journals, without having lost their utility, have
lost a little of their importance. Generally speaking, when
the political press is strong it is because the ruling power
is weak. For writers to take up questions it is necessary
that Ministers should have let them slip through their
fingers ; and as power must necessarily exist somewhere,
it fails into the hands of journalism as soon as the Govern.
ment cannot hold it.
But as soon as a beloved and energetic power is estab-
lished in a country which shows itself jealous of its work
and accomplishes it manfully, questions and affairs remain
within the circle of Government; or when they leave it,
they leave it sifted and settled.
This is precisely the position in which France now is,
after many years of confusion and struggles. The Govern-
ment governs. The executive power is at the Tuileries
and in the great bodies of the State, and not in half a
dozen inkstands. Public opinion and public interests
follow their natural guides, instead of losing themselves in
a thousand labyrinths, the freaks of journalists, tribunes,
and sectarians. The press envenomed questions without
solving them ; the Government solves them without en-
venoming them.
Let us praise God for it!
But if society has no longer anything to fear from
factions, we think that it stands in great peril from the
noxious doctrines with which the stage, books, and (mine-
tons infect public morals.
The steadfast champion of order, after having vanquished
the ancient enemy, we now prepare to encounter a new
one; and we intend to wage against bad literature the same
war which we waged against bad politics.
The general characteristic of the French lite.
nature, he asserts, is that "there are hosts of work-
men and dearth of works " :
This incessant labour of literary men, accomplished
without taste or spirit, which neither amuses the public
nor themselves, which does not produce either pleasure
to the one or fame to the other, keeps up papermakers and
printers, fills cafés. gives passing amusement to travellers,
without ever affording serious occupation to any one.
Men skim over the verse or prose while the waiter is
bringing their dinner or the hairdresser is curling their
hair, because literature is offered on the market by coffee-
housekeepers, Savoyards, and hairdressers as toothpicks
are at a dining-house. Few would give to the poet the
twopence they give to the waiter. The effect of this great
movement has been, if you like, the creation of a new
literature—the literature of public resorts—that is to say,
where every book is glanced over and none read with
attention. Art derives no benefit from it ; and if we con-
sider the principles it spreads, the public mind is daily
receiving a formidable attack.
Of the character of the French literature at the
present day, he remarks :
We cannot cast a glance on the moral direction of the
literary productions of the present day without a feeling of
shame and pain.
Look at the theatres. We do not wish to speak of those
obscene representations which no one goes to, unless a
bachelor or in liquor. We do not allude to those where
the favourite actors owe their position to a false voice or
an ugly nose, and who create a laugh rather by their na-
tural defects than by their parts. We leave aside all those
unknown regions where the public that frequents them has
more muscle than brain, turned to account by writers who,
not having the talent to be comical, resign themselves to
be ridiculous.
Let us speak first of the French stage, unequalled by
any other in the world in authority and fame, and then of
those stages which, though far behind it, were neverthe-
less, for a long period, schools of humour, sound feeling,
and good morale. Well, gipeiea, vice, and slang have
swamped them all. At the Theatre Francais, where our
youth on leaving college went to study the manners of
polished society, choice morals and language. and respect
to the fair sex, we behold barefaced adultery displayed, and
supported without shame by the masters of art and by

33

their pupils who tread in their footsteps. As regards the
second-rate theatres, they invite openly every class of ,ffr
ciety to witness the private life of prostitntes. They
boldly throw open the gates of the demi-monde to the real
world, which rushes in headlong without being told on the
threshold that there is not such a thing as demi-howneur,
demi-morale, or demi-dignili. The stage has arrived very
near the edge which leads to s precipice at the bottom of
which neither morals nor literature are to be found. It is

so far sunken that it would be a difficult task to say
honestly what is represented, and the culpable complicity
of criticism holds out no prospect of a limit to this miscon-
duct and desecration.
Novels pervaded by the same spirit—that is to say, be-
spattered with tbe same dirt—are still more baneful. At
least you must go to the theatre to see it, but a novel pre-
sents itself. No man of common sense will go into a
bookseller's to buy novels to amuse his wife and children.
A woman of education will not aniscribe to a circulating
library for those abominable books which bear upon them
the finger-marks of those who read them, and the indies-
tions of the mind that wrote them. But now the novel is
thrust upon you. It comes with your newspaper, without
cost or trouble ; and even the most prudent family rarely
escapes tbe effects of this quiet and subtle poison, which is
imbibed in leisure hours, and which kills quietly and gra-

tnitously.
It is clear all this, theatre as well as novels, is not litera-
ture. lint happily it terminates like the orgie in Lucrezia
Borgia. This art, which flourishes between wine cups and
women, has it coffin close behind it.

In fact—and it alone is ignorant of the fact—this gipsy
revel has had its day, and ita morals are an insulting

anachronism to contemporary society.
Doubtless, as long as the human race exists it will have
its burning passions ; but every period of society has its
good customs and its virtues as well as its faults. With
the Fronde the morals of the Fronde passed away : such
also was the case with the Regency. A few idle and rich
young noblemen may still indulge in their vices ; they
have no longer their little establishments. There was a
time, not far back, when the acquaintance with the demi-
monde was an accomplishment. It may still be an attrac-
tion, but it is no longer a fashion. It is spoken of but as
Turenne consented to speak of his ancient passion for
Madame de Coßquen, by extinguishing the lights.
Thus, literature at the present time is, in its ensemble.
outside the pale of firm principle and real morality ; it
partakes neither of truth nor of the acknowledged cus-
toms of society. It mast, therefore, either undergo a
change or die.

it is one of the qualities of intelligent and useful reforms
to regenerate institutions and works by restrengthening
them with their own principles. The best 'friend, there-
fore, of French literature would be the man who possesses
either sufficient authority to offer a reform or sufficient
power to enforce one. We know ourselves well enough to
be aware that we do not possess either.

Nevertheless, the value which we attach to the fame of
French literature, and that feeling of duty which we always
obey, do not allow us to remain tacit and indifferent
spectators. We are not called upon to persuade literary
men that they are in error ; but convinced that they are so,
we think that we are bound to tell them so. Even when
a man shouts in a desert, God and his conscience hear him.
In conclusion he declares the object of the journal
to be the realisation of a healthier and a better
state of public literature :
We mast advance boldly to the task with' scalpel and
branding-iron in hand, and amputate and purify by fire the
corrupt members. And how much will remain after this
painful, but necessary operation ? Not mach, perhaps;
but is it not the tree which has been pruned closest which
sends forth the healthiest shoots?
This journal is nothing more than the realisation of this
idea. We shall work at it with a small circle of Mends
gathered round our principle, and of whom we shall say
nothing here, as they will be better understood by their
labours than by words of ours. Devoted to a useful work,
we shall have no considerations for men or things, except
such as are inspired by courtesy and imposed by dignity.
Doing thus, and assembled under a literary standard.
we shall still take part in politics without speaking of them,
for we know of no calling more elevated, none mere effica-
cious, than that of preparing healthy and upright minds for
the service of their country.
A. GRANTER DE CASSAGNAC, Deputy
of the Corps-Legislatif.