It may be though, that the gods ordered otherwise; if so, this is the cause of the will of the gods.
I know five languages which now are spoken, which gives me an immense refectory of words.
When I need a word and do not find it in French, I select it from other tongues, and the reader has either to understand or translate me. Such is my fate.
I could have acted otherwise, but was prevented by a kind of system to which I was invincibly attached.
I am satisfied that the French language which I use is comparatively poor. What could I do? Either borrow or steal.
I did neither, for such borrowings, cannot be restored, though to steal words is not punishable by the penal code.
Any one may form an idea of my audacity when I say I applied the Spanish word volante to any one I had sent on an errand, and that I had determined to GALLICISE the English word TO SIP, which means to drink in small quantities. I however dug out the French word siroter, which expresses nearly the same thing.
I am aware the purists will appeal to Bosseux, to Fenelon, Raceri, Boilleau, Pascal, and others of the reign of Louis XIV. I fancy I hear their clamor.
To all this I reply distinctly, that I do not depreciate the merit of those authors; but what follows? Nothing, except that if they played well on an inferior instrument, how much better would they have done on a superior one. Therefore, we may believe that Tartini would have played on the violin far better than he did, if his bow had been long as that of Baillot.
I do not belong to the neologues or even to the romanticists; the last are discoverers of hidden treasures, the former are like sailors who go about to search for provisions they need.
The people of the North, and especially the English, have in this respect an immense advantage over us. Genius is never restricted by the want of expression, which is either made or created. Thus it is that of all subjects which demand depth and energy, our translations make but pale and dull infusions.
Once I heard at the institute a pleasant discourse on the danger of neologism, and on the necessity of maintaining our language as it was when the authors of the great century wrote.
"Like a chemist, I sifted the argument and ascertained that it meant:
"We have done so well, that we neither need nor can do better."
Now; I have lived long enough to know that each generation has done as much, and that each one laughs at his grandfather.
Besides, words must change, when manners and ideas undergo perpetual modifications. If we do things as the ancients did, we do not do them in the same manner. There are whole pages in many French books, which cannot be translated into Latin or Greek.
All languages had their birth, their apogee and decline. None of those which have been famous from the days of Sesostris to that of Philip Augustus, exist except as monuments. The French will have the same fate, and in the year 2825 if read, will be read with a dictionary.
I once had a terrible argument on this matter with the famous M.
Andrieux, at the Academie Francaise.
I made my assault in good array, I attacked him vigorously, and would have beaten him had he not made a prompt retreat, to which I opposed no obstacle, fortunately for him, as he was making one letter of the new lexicon.
I end by one important observation, for that reason I have kept it till the last.
When I write of ME in the singular, I gossip with my reader, he may examine, discuss, doubt or laugh; but when I say WE I am a professor, and all must bow to me.
"I am, Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark."
Merchant of Venice.
PHYSIOLOGY OF TASTE.
MEDITATION FIRST.
THE SENSES.
The senses are the organs by which man places himself in connexion with exterior objects.
NUMBER OF THE SENSES.
1. They are at least six—
Sight, which embraces space, and tells us by means of light, of the existence and of the colors of the bodies around us.
Hearing, which, by the motion of the air, informs us of the motion of sounding or vibrating bodies.
Scent, by means of which we are made aware of the odors bodies possess.
Taste, which enables us to distinguish all that has a flavor from that which is insipid.
Touch informs us of the consistency and resistance of bodies.
The last is genesiac or physical love, which attracts the sexes to each other, and the object of which is the reproduction of the species.
It is astonishing that, almost to the days of Buffon, so important a sense was misunderstood, and was confounded with the touch.
Yet the sensation of which it is the seat, has nothing in common with touch; it resides in an apparatus as complete as the mouth or the eyes, and what is singular is that each sex has all that is needed to experience the sensation; it is necessary that the two should be united to reach nature's object. If the TASTE, the object of which is the preservation of the individual, be incontestibly a sense, the same title must indubitably be preserved on the organs destined to the preservation of the species.
Let us then assign to the genesiac the sensual place which cannot be refused to it, and let us leave to posterity the assignment of its peculiar rank.
ACTION OF THE SENSES.
If we were permitted, even in imagination, to refer to the first moments of the existence of the human race, we would believe that the first sensations were direct; that is to say that all saw confusedly and indirectly, smelled without care, ate without tasting, etc.
The centre of all these sensations, however, being the soul, the sensual attribute of humanity and active cause of perfectibility, they are reflected, compared, and judged by it; the other senses then come to the assistance of each other, for the utility and well-being of the sensitive; one or individual.
Thus touch rectifies the errors of sight; sound, by means of articulate speech, becomes the interpreter of every sentiment; taste is aided by sight and smell; hearing compares sounds, appreciates distance; and the genesiac sense takes possession of the organs of all the senses.
The torrent of centuries rolling over the human race, has continually brought new perfections, the cause of which, ever active though unseen, is found in the demands made by our senses, which always in their turns demand to be occupied.
Sight thus gave birth to painting, to sculpture, and to spectacles of every kind.
Sound, to melody, harmony, to the dance, and to music in all its branches, and means of execution.
Smell, to the discovery, manufacture and use of perfumes.
Taste, to the production, choice and preparation of all that is used for food.
Touch, to all art, trades and occupations.
The genesiac sense, to all which prepares or embellishes the reunion of senses, and, subsequently to the days of Francois I., to romantic love, to coquetry, which originated in France and obtained its name there, and from which the elite of the world, collected in the capital of the universe,