LANGUAGE AND THE EMOTIONS. 191 



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 con- 

 tinual association vv^ith cases of an unimpassioned order. But a char- 

 acter 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 phleg- 

 matic 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 onr feelings, as exces- 

 sive 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 es- 

 sence of sarcasm, and that sarcasm is naturally strong. But the use of 

 sarcasm itself indicates an abnormal state of mind, and its frequent cul- 

 tivation during a certain epoch, or in a certain country, is ahiiost an in- 

 fallible symptom of disease in some quarter. When polite and other- 

 wise 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 Hu- 

 go'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. 



" MoxsiETJK : Vous faites une imprudence." (We expected an out- 

 burst of deeply-felt passion.). ..." Tout cela a ete dit. Je n'y insiste 

 pas. Je dedaigne toijy&u les choses inutiles. 



