GOSSIP FROM AND ABOUT FRANCE.

(FROM Ot'R SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.)

March 19th, 1863.

"Heaven knows that even to excess, The sacred freedom of the press . . . My only aim's to crush—the writers," says Moore's Fudge, and I would fain believe that M. Fialin, dit Persigny, has studied your charming poet to advantage during his protracted stay in England. At all events, these verses would form a more appropriate motto for him than the indi- cative present which he emblazons on his arms, je set's, at least in one sense of the word ; because, if he undoubtedly is in service, he is certainly not of service to his country. How can a shrewd politician like M. 'I'hiers condescend even to mention seriously the famous decree of the 24th of November, which promised liberty and dwelt on the improvableness of the Imperial Con- stitution? M. Fialin dit Persigny, lays, indeed, great stress on the sacred freedom of the press,—in words ; in reality, his only aim is to crush the writers and the speakers, and he crushes them secundum artem to his heart's delight.

Although there comes occasionally an echo from the distant shores of Mexico, telling that matters there are going from bad to worse, the Polish question is, naturally enough, the all-absorbing topic in the political world. Every one talks and advises, M. Larabit in the Senate, M. Lagueronniere in the press, M. de Broglie in the Academy. Everybody writes to somebody : Victor Hugo to the Russian soldiers, Emile de Girardin to the Czar, Edgar Quinet to the French priests. But the short meaning of the lengthy speeches, as Schiller's Wallenstein would say, is—words ! words! words ! The English House of Commons trust the patriotism of Lord Palmerston ; the French Senate rely on the wisdom of the Emperor. There is no lack of eloquent appeals in favour of the heroic insurgents ; but as for the result, good old Lafontaine has predicted it two centuries ago :— " Qu'en sort-il Louvent? Du vent!"

The Poles have nothing to expect but mere talk. The French talk beforehand, when it is too soon. The Germans, faith- ful to that fascinating characteristic of theirs which one of their own countrymen, Prince Ptickler-Muskau, called "staircase wit," that is, the wit which suggests to you when going down stairs what you ought to have said in the drawing-room—the Germans will talk afterwards, when it is too late. You know best what you are doing in England.

But I am trying to joke when I am sad at heart, and feel inclined to drop the subject. Most likely you intend analyzing the discussion in the Senate in a special paper, and my brother correspondent has already described in magnificent language the true state of French feeling. It is a grave, a serious story, and I have modestly undertaken to limit myself to what M. Auguste Vacquerie calls "the crumbs of history." To the shame of the nineteenth century, these crumbs all fall from the sumptuous table at which Louis Napoleon Bonaparte sits in regal state.

Some time ago, people indulged in the belief that the Mexican expedition was to be abandoned, and many infatuated readers of the illoniteur looked daily for an official declaration to that effect. They reckoned without that convenient pretext, the honour of the flag. No; Mexico must first be taken—if it be possible. In the meanwhile, a council of war, composed of the Marshals of France, was held at the Tuileries, and another regiment is to be despatched, escorted by some Mexican bishops, who are bent on preaching war and discord among their countrymen. By the bye, how is it that the regiments drawn for that ominous service are generally chosen among those stationed abroad ? Are we to attribute that pre- caution to the fear that soldiers quartered in France might get an occasional glimpse at the awful list of victims slaughtered by the yellow fever?

At all events, the Mexicans are less than ever disposed to be " saved " by guns and coup d'Itat proclamations, the more so as their would-be " saviours " do not evince the gentlest bearing.

The brigands themselves repel the civilizers. The guerillero Antonio Galban, who tried to make a pronunciamiento in favour of Santa Anna, was shot by his own men. At Acapulco, the Governor, Diego Alvarez, known as "the panther of the South," and who rules over the pintos, or spotted men, pronounced for Juarez. When Alvarez was President of the Mexican Repubite," he became once sorely frightened, and cried "Treason!" on sitting down, for the first time in his life, into a comfortable arm-chair,

and feeling the soft cushion give way under him. Well, as we are bound on spreading civilization in that quarter, here is a fresh task for General Forey. Let him import a valuable cargo of Empress chairs and fauteuils A ta Voltaire.

Napoleon's personal sympathies for Poland, on which poli- tical cockneys and badauds lay so much stress, do not appear to be overpowering, if we are to judge of them by his rude behaviour towards M. Saint-Marc Girardin, who, as is well known, has taken the prominent part in the drawing up of the Polish petitions. In his quality of present Director of the French Academy, this learned professor and classical writer had, according to custom, to present the new academician, Prince Albert de Broglie, to the Emperor, in company with M. Villemain, who is the perpetual secretary of the literary body. Curiously enough, there were three eminent Orleanists in presence of the grim usurper, who, however, condescended to be gracious towards two of them, remarking that he always saw with pleasure the Academy select men of true merit. Then mixing, as is his wont, the compliment with some sneering allusion, he spoke of the Duke de Broglie, the father, and reminded the son that he had enjoyed the honour of being personally known to the Empress when, under the last reign, he stayed at Madrid as secretary of the French Ambassador, whilst M. de Broglie somewhat winced under the unpleasant hint. Napoleon paid a well-deserved homage to M. Villemain ; but for M. Saint- Marc Girardin he had neither a word nor a look.

We do not mean to suggest that the witty academician felt in the least hurt by what was intended for a slight. But the students got wind of the whole proceeding, and at once resolved to revenge and reward their favourite professor. When he appeared the fol- lowing day in the lecture-hall of the Sorbonne, he was greeted with the most enthusiastic cheers and the most sonorous clapping of hands, which he stopped by the pointed remark, "Gentlemen, this immoderate applause is undoubtedly meant for the petitioner and the academic speaker ; the professor thanks you, and entreats you to let him go on with his lecture."

Before I leave professors and academies, lam happy to state that at last M. Jules Simon, the philosopher of duty and conscience, has met with his reward, and been elected a member of the Institute in the section of moral and political science. An upright politician, a sound Republican, an unswerving stoic, M. Simon, after losing his professorship through his refusal to take the oath of allegiance to the hero of the coup d'etat, devoted his forced leisure hours to the composition of several excellent books, "Le Devoir," " La Liberti," "La Religion Naturelle," in which he taught the younger generation the duty of self-respect, and manliness, and the blessings of freedom. Moreover, he had the patience to inquire on the spot into the physical and moral condi- tion of the working classes, and the courage to publish the sad result of his laborious investigations under the title

" /1 Ouvrare." Before the French Academy bestowed, unwarrant- ably enough, on M. Thiers the special prize for the work "which did the greatest honour to the human mind," the votes had been equally divided between Jules Simon and George Sand. Still, M. Simon did not hitherto belong to the Institute, and, had he died, ere now, we might have put on the tombstone of one of the master- minds of our epoch Piron's satirical inscription :— " Ci-git Piron, qui ne fut riot, Pas meme Acade'micien."

Walking in the footsteps of the French Academy, which is famous for framing incongruous prize questions, the "International Association for the Progress of Social Science" at Brussels offers a gold medal for the best essay on the ominous subject—" Morality in literature and art." Well, I humbly thought until now that literature was, generally speaking, a faithful reflection of the state of society, and that the morals depicted in plays and novels par- took more of the effect than the cause. Demand and supply regu- late the sale of books, as well as of any other commodity, and the author who fights against the impulse of the public stands but a poor chance of getting readers.

Would, for instance, a romance like "Salammbii" be possible, and meet with success, out of a country where ladies of every rank vie with one another which of them should appear at dancing parties in the most décolleté costume of the Carthaginian heroine? where the whole female world discuss with eagerness the engrossing fact whether it was really the Countess Castiglione who danced with naked and painted feet on golden sandals, or whether Madame dE 7;.'s Libyan tunic was open to the hip on the right or the left side ?

Just now the Theatre du Palais Royal nightly attracts a crowded audience by a low, though amusing burlesque, in which two un- fortunate husbands, and the threefold seducer, now a married man himself, play the principal parts. Who are most at fault, the vaudevilliste or the spectators, or rather the whole community, who laugh at such realities, and charm their ennui by ignoble scandal ? A well-known critic unflinchingly applies to the vulgar farce an exclamation, in which a spectator of the seventeenth century is said to have indulged in witnessing one of Moliere's plays, "Voila de la bonne comedie."

There is some truth, we believe, in an answer once given by

Alexandre Dumas the younger to a minister, to whom be com- plained of the unnecessary delays with which his plays generally met before the authorization to bring them on the stage was granted. "Well," said the official gentleman to the skilful de- lineator of our dames cur camelias, "treat different subjects, do not exhibit so many ugly sights, and your works shall be played immediately." "What shall I then exhibit ? " "Depict society such as it is." "In that case my dramas would never be repre- sented," replied Dumas fi/s, and the minister was unwilling to pfirsue the argument further.

Besides, art and literature are in so poor and helpless a condition at present, that most of the Parisian theatres are engaged in re- newals of old plays, both of the romantic and the realistic school.

The Vaudeville, disinters Augier's Manage d' Olympe, the Gymnase, Dumas the younger's Fits Naturel, the Galete, Magnet's Belle Gabrielle, while the Porte St. Martin is busy with the exhuma- tion of Dumas the elder's Don Juan de Marana. But as nowadays graceful dances by scantily clad fairies, maddening brindisi and bo- leros, exciting songs by lovely nymphs, and dazzling decorations, are indispensable elements of success, the manager has entrusted the poet Mery with the task of "adapting" the wild drama to modern taste. A curious correspondence has been published between the two writers ; Arcades anibo, par nobile—of mountebanks. Father Dumas graciously grants permission to spangle his play with melo- dies and legs, in a witty letter, the most remarkable feature of which certainly lies in the fact of its being dated "Naples, Palace Chiatamene." I do not remember the name of the man who remarked that "provisional measures last for ever ;" but never was truer maxim uttered to the gaping world.

In an hour of easy compliance, Garibaldi allowed his buoyant biographer the momentary use of a palace—and he dwells still there. In an hour of good humour the popular hero put two sentries before the door, and when, some weeks ago, a stern general removed the soldiers, the offended Dumas cried to heaven and earth and called upon gods and men to witness the indignity.

But, to return to the theatres. How is it that so many immoral dramas are played in a country swarming with theatrical censors, and enjoying the invaluable blessing of a bureau de mmurs1 Why, official maws are limited to Bonapartist hero-worship, and curses against liberty. The censors cancel Les Diables Noirs at the Vaude- ville, because Urbain Grandier and the nuns of Loudun are the heroes of the play ; but they authorize Les Ganaches and patronize Marengo. In the meanwhile, the Minister of Finances, honest M. Fould, forbids all foresters and woodreves under his orders to marry without the special licence of the central administration. What with soldiers, sailors, and employe's, two-thirds of the young men of France will be prevented from taking wives. And then philo- sophers cry out against the spread of vice, and social congresses declaim on morality in literature and art!

We have glory in Rome and glory in Mexico ; clever speeches at the Academy ; an exciting fencing-match between Grapier, dit de Cassagnac, and quasi-Vicomte de la Gueronniere in the newspapers ; vulgar ditties in the streets ; Salaranzbo costumes at mid-Lent balls ; literary gentlemen disguised as wheat- sheaves at M. Pereire's soirée; fashionable ladies appearing as artificial meadows at the anniversary of the Actors' Society ; a pied qui r'mue playing frolics in the head-dress of both sexes at evening parties ; puns exploding at the Palais Royal ; guns firing at the Cirque ; Al. I.arabit's report in the Senate ; and, above all, a paternal Government unwilling to let us contract an early, im- prudent marriage. And, in spite of all these blessings, Frenchmen are not satisfied—do not feel quite happy ! Queue ingratitude ! But we are, as Europe pretends, a restless, snarling race, though your own Sterne vindicated, in days long gone by, our much enduring patience and forbearance. May not the point be over- strained at last? Well, Beaumarchais found it out a century ago : "Tant va la creche is reau qu' d la fin elle s'emplit." A GAUL.