When my
father, my grandfather, and great grandfather set up struggling papers
in a provincial capital, it may be said that they were not printers in
vain.
Because of my fondness for newspapers and magazines, it is a grief to me
that the Spanish press should be so weak, so poor, so pusillanimous and
stiff-jointed.
Of late, while the foreign press has been expanding and widening its
scope, ours has been standing still.
There is, of course, an economic explanation to justify our deficiency,
but this is valid only in the matter of quantity, and not as to quality.
Comparing our press with that of the rest of the world, a rosary of
negation might easily be made up in this fashion:
Our press does not concern itself with what is of universal interest.
Our press does not concern itself with what is of national interest.
Our press does not concern itself with literature.
Our press does not concern itself with philosophy.
And so on to infinity.
Corpus Barga has told me that when Senor Groizard, a relative of his,
was ambassador to the Vatican, Leo XIII once inquired of him, in a
jargon of Italo-Spanish, in the presence of the papal secretary,
Cardinal Rampolla:
"Does the Senor Ambasciatore speak Italian?"
"No, not Italian, although I understand it a little.
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