" BETTER IN HIMSELF." A FRIEND of the present writer
who suffers from rheumatism remarked the other day to an American that, while his rheumatism was worse, he felt " better in himself." To the American the expression was new and full of meaning—one of Bacon's " sharp tools of speech." Whether he chanced to be ignorant or whether this common saying here is not current in America we do not know ; anyhow, one intelligent American had not heard it, and began forthwith to make use of it in all sorts of unusual connexions. Was not the nation, in spite of all the bad symptoms enumerated in the newspapers, " better in itself " ? Certainly the phrase thus used does supply a splendid weapon for the optimists, who never can bring logical argument to account for their good spirits. There are certain themes which can only be upheld at length ; others can only be justified shortly. There is a something about the look of the English crowd which, in spite of bad symptoms, too little money and too little work, and no industry in doing that little, does make us feel that, as a people, we are " well in ourselves." No other phrase could so well suggest our subtle composure of spirit. Again, the doctors who originated and so con- stantly make use of the 0E0116 could hardly admit in terser form the fact that they do acknowledge the existence of a self who does stand to some extent outside the aches and pains of this life. It is impossible to think of a sentence which would " give them away " less, and yet involve them in the acceptance of so great a spiritual possibility. It is a great capacity which some doctors have, this power to make their patients " feel better in themselves." It has, we imagine, remarkably little to do with medical skill, and is more like what we mean by charm than anything else. It is a power quite outside diagnosis. In the same way, when we see it outside the medical profession, the people who cheer one " in oneself " have often not sufficient of deep sympathy to assuage any of the greater cares of life, but they somehow make us forget. Certainly the well- used words are fraught with suggestion, and would sit equally well on the lips of a psycho-analyst or an old- fashioned person entirely convinced that he himself is throughout one and the same man, and has been ever since he can remember, no matter how young people may meander about subconscious selves and dual personalities. There is a certain pleasure in being able to make a gift of " a saying " even to one American. Across the Atlantic they are such past-masters in the art of sharpening these " edged tools." Our talkers have not the wealth of metaphor and simile which distinguishes theirs. Or rather, perhaps, we have not so much verbal ready-money. The hoarded riches of our literature are, of course, much greater, but we do not coin these verbal treasures as we go along with the felicity that they do. There is not, we suppose, a thinking man who speaks English who has not at some time felt his knowledge of the world and of human nature increased, as well as his sense of the ridiculous aroused and excited, by an " Americanism." After he has done laughing he has resolved to put the phrase away in his memory, yet for all his determination has lost it again perhaps before he has had an opportunity to repeat it even once. The appeal made is not to the memory. It delights the mind for a moment, even those minds incapable of appreciating the stereotyped wit of the humorous trans- atlantic classics.
American slang seems to be in a constant state of flux.
Their best flowers of humorous speech are overblown directly. We have fewer of these national evanescent verbal delights—at least we have to-day. The racy speech of certain old people, especially amongst the poor, makes one wonder sometimes if we have lost something which the Americans have retained. So far as poor people are concerned, it is possible that the powers of talk of those whose only education is experience develop very late. Also, they are not bound by the strange but very wide- spread convention which leads the present generation to make use of a small vocabulary, a small list of well-worn expressions, even polished writers and men who must think in a large number of words contenting themselves in ordinary talk with what contents the majority. We have no doubt a tendency, if we break through this sill! convention, to become too grave, to " speak like a book. The American, however, does not become grave because he puts his whole mental energy into his speech ; indeed, his tendency is in the other direction. In one sense he is a born waster of words ; when he has finished with one phrase, he makes another. This ever-changing wealth of language must, one would think, build up the mind of the nation and must result some day in a marvellous literature —not pieced together out of verbal scintillations, but nourished by a ready wit too prolific to preserve except at random. There is a delightful German proverb which says, " The things in the mirror are not in the mirror." We imagine that the great days of our literature were prepared for by an immense deal of racy colloquial talk which never found its way into books. Shakespeare, of course, immor- talized it to some extent, but not at great length. One difficulty in making any historic picture live is that all this colouring matter which so deeply dyed the life of the people is gone. Here and there we get an inkling of what it was like in a proverb or maxim. If we had a great man to suggest to us, say, in play form, the wit and wisdom of our innumerable men at the front, should we get anything as trenchant as we should from the handful of Americans ? We are very much inclined to think that the dramatist of genius to whom it falls finally to depict not the war but the state of war will bring out courage and character in his soldier's conversation rather than the peculiar quality of insight into humanity which showed in the simple people of the past. It will be a very sad thing if we even super- ficially injure our mental powers by our stupid talking. To talk " like a book " is obviously what is not desirable. Books cannot be made out of books ; great books come, we suppose, out of life, and it is in talk that life is expressed, though in books that it is recorded. If we deliberately limit our power of expression, there must be less to record.
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