FRENCH AND ENGLISH.
THE game that is now generally known as the "Tug-of- War," was at one time better known to schoolboys as "French and English," under which name boys used to divide into two parties, and try to pull each other over a line by tug- ging at the same rope. Possibly the name was changed as being rather too compromising when the wrong party won ; still, it should not be forgotten, as it applies excellently well to a " tug-of-war " which is for ever going on, the struggle for the supremacy of one language over all others that are spoken by the human race. In spite of the claims that may be advanced on behalf of German or Spanish, we think that two languages have BO far outstripped them and all other competitors as to be alone worthy of consideration as pretendants to the post of a universal language, and that those two languages are English and French,—French by right of priority, for it has been recognised officially as the universal language from time immemorial; and English because it is more universally spoken than any other. There is no corner of the world where English may not be heard; it has followed in the wake of the English Flag, celebrated by Mr. Kipling, and it can boast of more numerous and more varied speakers than any other lar- guage, not even excepting Dutch and Spanish, or that strange medley known as the Lingua Franca. We are not speaking, of course, of mere number alone—for in that case it is pos- sible that China might head the list by the sheer weight of its own inhabitants, and Germany would certainly outdis- tance France—but of number and importance combined ; and in these points together we cannot but think the French and English stand out alone beyond all competitors, and that the struggle to be regarded as the world's interpreter lies between them. We should have liked to have considered the claims of Volapiik in this matter; but as we have never met or even heard of any one who spoke that unknown tongue, we cannot seriously admit that it has entered the competition. Our attention has been drawn to this struggle by an interview, which is printed in the Times from the Montreal Daily Witness, in which a French-Canadian priest gives it as his deliberate opinion that in Canada the French language is rapidly disappearing before the English. If that is really the fact, it is a very interesting one for many reasons, and one that requires to be accounted for ; for French in Montreal was undoubtedly the language of the majority, and there seems to be no external reason why it should have been the one to give way in the struggle for survival between the two. Father Chiniquy, the priest in question, gives his reason for the result of the struggle ; and although we do not altogether agree with him, it is one which contains, we fancy, a fair measure of truth. Perhaps it would be as well, however, to accept Father Chiniquy's facts, and the forecasts that he draws from them, with a certain reservation. He has been for many years a Protestant propagandist, and a fierce opponent of the Roman Catholic Church, to which he once belonged; so that it may be that with him the wish has been to some degree the father of the thought, and the possibility of the French lan- guage dying out of Canada is in reality as remote as the ultimate victory in that country of the Protestant Church.
From the very beginning of things, one language has been mutually accepted by the others as an interpreter. Without going back to more remote ages, we might instance Greek, spoken by the polite society of the ancient world much in the same way as French is spoken by the Russians of our day ; to be succeeded by Latin, the language of the Church, of Literature, and of such Embassies as went forth to foreign countries; to be succeeded in later times by French, the language of Governments and Ambassadors. Will there be a further change, and French, in its turn, give place to English ? That is a question which time alone can answer; but we cannot help believing, with Father Chiniquy, that the change is more than possible. The struggle
in Canada is perhaps hardly a fair test of the respec- tive strength of the two languages, for though neither one -of them can claim to be the official language rather than the other, English is the language of the dominant race, and that is a consideration that must have weight, even when we set against it the numerical superiority of the French popu- lation. Father Chiniquy, however, will have it that English is likely to thrust out the other by virtue of its own intrinsic merits, and seems to have no doubt whatever of the disap- pearance of the French language before long. "Everywhere," he says, "in the -United States, the children of French- Canadians, as soon as they acquire the English language at -school, give up the use of French except to speak to their mothers. By this process, the French must rapidly disap- pear. It is the same here." And then he instances the ease of a little girl who had been sent by her mother to visit him, and who spoke to him for some time in English. " Mais ne pouvez-vous pas parlor Fra.ncais ? " he asked. "0 mon Dien ! est-ce que je pane Anglais ? " the child answered in perfect good faith, for she had been simply talking the language that was most natural to her. No doubt a Welsh child who had learnt Eng- lish at school would have done the same ; but it does not follow, when the child returns to its own home and -to its parents, who "have no English," as the phrase -goes, that it will make any effort to keep up the language which has become the most natural to speak. Indeed, it is -quite possible that its own child, in time to come, will find Welsh spoken in its home, and nothing else. Father Chiniquy is more interesting when he gives his own reasons for preferring to speak English,—reasons which, he is sure, are shared by a great many of his compatriots. It is because he can express himself with greater ease in English than in French. "When I write a book," he says—" and I have written many—I write it in English, and then translate it into French. Your expres- sion is more direct ; your syntax is more simple, and the sound of your language more forcible." That is true enough in every particular. Our grammar is delightfully simple -and void of complications. The sounds of the language are decidedly more forcible, especially when the language used is that of anger,—for the rolling of a never-ending "r" is but a poor substitute for the loud explosion of a furious monosyllable. Also, it may fairly be said that our mode of expression is more direct,—but not more lncid,—at least, we think not. Indeed, we are almost tempted to suggest that Father Chiniquy writes his books in English for his own satisfaction, and then translates them into French to -explain his thought more clearly to others. Of the two lan- guages, French, to our mind, is not only the more flexible, but it gives a better opportunity to make one's meaning unmis- takable, wherever the thoughts that require to be expressed are themselves somewhat involved. Take, for example, a philosophical treatise. In its original German—should it be written in that language, which by some malign fate has become the language of philosophy—it is a hideous thing. Translated into English, it becomes decidedly better, though .still full of obscurities and ambiguities which belong rather to the medium in which it is conveyed than to the original thought. Translated into French, nearly all the difficulties -disappear. Perhaps the lucidity is owing to a certain precision and exactness that it inherits from the Latin, to which it bears EO close an affinity. That the sounds -of our language are more forcible, we readily agree; and it is on this point that Father Chiniquy most insists. What an ear-filling sound, he says, is the word "Fire," and how very tame and unsatisfactory is the French "Feu," in comparison. " You can say Ready !" he continues, "in a most sonorous shout; in French it is • Pret !'—there is no sound. All aboard ;' with us it is Embarquez,' and you cannot hear it at ten feet. Yes, Sir, the English language is bound to become the universal language." We should rather say, the American language, judging from the specimens which Father Chiniquy gives us. "All aboard ! " is decidedly an Americanism; and the English equivalent, "Take your seats, please," is no better than the French "En voiture." How- ever, that is merely by the way. It is an undoubted fact that for short, peremptory commands, the English language is the language par excellence; certainly it is the universal language of those that go down to the sea in ships ; and the orders, "Stop her !" "Ease her!" "Back her !" may be heard in
every port in the world, coming from the lips of every nationality.
As a language, it is certainly direct, in the way that it is not given to the use of polite paraphrase. We remember a notice in three languages affixed to the door of a saloon on board a mail-steamer. In English, the passengers were forbidden to do something,—we forget the exact nature of the veto, but it was curt to the last degree. In Spanish, "Senores the passengers were requested" not to commit the same offence. In Portuguese, "The grace of Senhores the passengers was prayed not to," dr.-c. After all, the meaning was much the same, and the English version had at least the advantage of being the shortest. It is this peremptory tone which has perhaps given English its place in the proverbial classification as the language of dogs. "Spanish," says the proverb, "one talks to the gods ; " in truth, it is almost high-flown enough for the upper regions, but we may note that the proverb was Spanish in origin. "Italian, one talks to one's friends ; " one can be effusively warm in Italian, and yet have a ring of sincerity. "French, to one's mistress ; " it is capable of such infinite variety of endearments and cajolements, that the wanting sincerity is never missed. "German, to one's horse ; " and if he neighs in answer, he answers, we suppose, in good German. "And English, to a dog !" Well, it is a fact that dogs understand English better than any other tongue. We are not disposed to quarrel with that proverb ; least of all with the place that it assigns to the French language. No other language in the world is capable of expressing so many nuances, to borrow one of its words, or shades of sentiment, and gradations of tender feeling. The good Canadian priest may have found English the most suitable language to write hie hooka in ; but then, his works were not probably novels that treated of love and romance. If he had wished to make love, he would possibly have pre- ferred the use of French. How absolutely untranslateable into English is a certain kind of French verse ! Not only the beautiful, fictitious passion of De Musset, but the softer and more restrained melancholy of Beranger. Compare the latter's "Le Grenier " with Thackeray's translation of the same. No one could more thoroughly taste and appreciate that exquisite sigh of regret than Thackeray himself ; and yet when he comes to clothe it in English, there is hardly an English word he can dress it in, and what an ill-fitting gar- ment he has turned out ! "The Garret" would be a pretty little poem, if one had not read the " Grenier : " to translate the latter was to attempt the impossible,—quite as impossible a feat as the translatidn of "Peg of Limavaddy "into French. But the language of lovers, and of sentiment generally, is not the one that is likely to become the universal language of the human race,— not even though it is also the language of Courts and courtiers. It is the language which is most uni- versally the language of commerce that is likely to become in the course of time the recognised interpreter among other languages. And that language at the present moment is English. The world will certainly lose nothing in the ex- change ; the language of Shakespeare need make no apology when it usurps the place of the language of Voltaire.
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