Page:Popular Science Monthly Volume 14.djvu/203

Rh hence they have no language of passion for the service of poetry, or of occasions really demanding it, for it has been already enfeebled by continual association with cases of an unimpassioned order. But a character of deeper passion has a perpetual standard in itself, by which as by an instinct it tries all cases, and rejects the language of passion as disproportionate and ludicrous where it is not fully justified. 'Ah, Heavens!' or 'O my God!' are exclamations with us so exclusively reserved for cases of profound interest that, on hearing a woman even (i. e., a person of the sex most easily excited) utter such words, we look round expecting to see her child in some situation of danger. But in France, 'Ciel!' and 'O mon Dieu!' are uttered by every woman if a mouse does but run across the floor. The ignorant and the thoughtless, however, will continue to class the English character under the phlegmatic temperament, while the philosopher will perceive that it is the exact polar antithesis to a phlegmatic character."

There is a great amount of truth in this passage. The too frequent use of strong language may indurate and blunt our feelings, as excessive indulgence in alcoholic stimulants deadens the sensibility of our palate. And there can hardly be a doubt but that the frequent use of words disproportionate in their strength to the thoughts and feelings in whose connection they are used has detracted from the original strength of the French language. Naturally the strongest word ought to be used to give expression to the strongest feeling. But strong words have been so blunted through frequent use that they have lost their sharp edge, and pass over our thick skin without even pricking our sensibility; while, at moments when we expect a heavy blow, the light tickling of the socially polite feather may far more vividly stimulate our sensibility. It may be said that this disparate use of words is the essence of sarcasm, and that sarcasm is naturally strong. But the use of sarcasm itself indicates an abnormal state of mind, and its frequent cultivation during a certain epoch, or in a certain country, is almost an infallible symptom of disease in some quarter. When polite and otherwise weak words are used in a powerful context, it is almost invariably a sign of over-frequent and hackneyed use of strong words. There are many instances of this in France. Among them let us examine one of recent date and of great interest, because of its publicity and because of its author—the most powerful writer of the age. Of all Victor Hugo's writings this letter is one of the most characteristic specimens; not because of the strong words of which it consists, but, on the contrary, because of the colloquial, polite phraseology with which it begins, on an occasion when one would rightly expect the words which are used when—a stray dog has sprinkled a drop of mud on our newly-blacked boots.

" Vous faites une imprudence." (We expected an outburst of deeply-felt passion.). . . ."Tout cela a été dit. Je n'y insiste pas. Je dédaigne un peu les choses inutiles.