denly in view of Mont
Blanc, I ventured to say to my guide, "_C'est tres joli_." "_Non_,
_Monsieur_," said he, "_ce n'est pas joli_, _mais c'est curieux a voir_."
I think we were both of us rather out of it that time.
I remember an old lady of my acquaintance pointing to her new chintz of
peonies and sunflowers, and asking me if I did not think it was very
"chaste." I should like to have said, "Oh, yes, very, quite rococo," but
I daren't.
The wife of a clergyman, writing to the papers about the "Penge Mystery,"
said that certain of the parties (whom most right-minded people thought
had committed most atrocious crimes, if not actual murder) had been
guilty of a breach of "les convenances de societe." This is almost equal
to De Quincey's friend, who committed a murder, which at the time he
thought little about. Keble said to Froude, "Froude, you said you
thought Law's _Serious Call_ was a clever book; it seemed to me as if you
had said the Day of Judgment will be a pretty sight."
I ought here to mention the use, or rather misuse, of words which are
often called "slang," such as "awfully jolly," "fearfully tedious,"
"horribly dull," or the expression "quite alarming," which young ladies,
I think, have now happily forgotten, and the equally silly use of the
word "howling" by young men. Such expressions mean absolutely nothing,
and are destructive of intelligent conversation. A man was being tried
for a serious assault, and had used a violent and coarse expression
towards the prosecutor. "You must be careful not to be misled by the bad
language reported to have been used by the prisoner," said the judge.
"You will find from the evidence that he has applied the same expression
to his best friend, to a glass of beer, to his grandmother, his boots,
and his own eyes."
4. _Criticism should be strong_.
I hope from the remarks I have previously made it will not be supposed
that I think all criticism should be of a flat, neutral tint, or what may
be called the washy order. On the contrary, if criticism is not strong
it cannot lift a young genius out of the struggling crowd, and it cannot
beat down some bumptious impostor. If the critic really believes that a
new poet writes like Milton, or a new artist paints like Sir Joshua, let
him say so; or if he thinks any work vile or contemptible, let him say
so; but let him say so well. Mere exaggerated language, as we have seen,
is not strength; but if there is real str
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