move this rust. The imperfections which
remain would still be intolerable, were it not for the continual care
one takes to avoid them, as a skilful horseman avoids stones in the
road. Good writers are careful to combat the faulty expressions which
popular ignorance first brings into vogue, and which, adopted by bad
authors, then pass into the gazettes and the pamphlets. _Roastbeef_
signifies in English _roasted ox_, and our waiters talk to us nowadays
of a "roastbeef of mutton." _Riding-coat_ means _a coat for going on
horseback_; of it people have made _redingote_, and the populace thinks
it an ancient word of the language. It has been necessary to adopt this
expression with the people because it signifies an article of common
use.

In matters of arts and crafts and necessary things, the common people
subjugated the court, if one dare say so; just as in matters of religion
those who most despise the common run of people are obliged to speak and
to appear to think like them.

To call things by the names which the common people has imposed on them
is not to speak badly; but one recognizes a people naturally more
ingenious than another by the proper names which it gives to each thing.

It is only through lack of imagination that a people adapts the same
expression to a hundred different ideas. It is a ridiculous sterility
not to have known how to express otherwise _an arm of the sea_, _a scale
arm_, _an arm of a chair_; there is poverty of thought in saying equally
the _head of a nail_, the _head of an army_.

Ignorance has introduced another custom into all modern languages. A
thousand terms no longer signify what they should signify. _Idiot_ meant
_solitary_, to-day it means _foolish_; _epiphany_ signified
_appearance_, to-day it is the festival of three kings; _baptize_ is to
dip in water, we say _baptize with the name_ of John or James.

To these defects in almost all languages are added barbarous
irregularities. Venus is a charming name, _venereal_ is abominable.
Another result of the irregularity of these languages composed at hazard
in uncouth times is the quantity of compound words of which the simple
form does not exist any more. They are children who have lost their
father. We have _architects_ and no _tects_; there are things which are
_ineffable_ and none which are _effable_. One is _intrepid_, one is not
_trepid_. There are _impudent_ fellows, _insolent_ fellows, but neither
_pudent_ fellows nor _solent_