ious amusement, conceit, vanity, pity, and joy in
ostentation; these, also, exactly commensurable with his advantage.
Strange and sad that this should be so; but so it is. French brings out
the worst in all of us--all, I mean, but the few, the lamentably far too
few, who cannot aspire to stammer some colloquial phrases of it.

Even in Victorian days, when England was more than geographically, was
psychologically an island, French made mischief among us, and was one
of the Devil's favourite ways of setting brother against brother. But in
those days the bitterness of the weaker brother was a little sweetened
with disapproval of the stronger. To speak French fluently and
idiomatically and with a good accent--or with an idiom and accent
which to other rough islanders seemed good--was a rather suspect
accomplishment, being somehow deemed incompatible with civic worth. Thus
the weaker ones had not to drain the last lees of their shame, and the
stronger could not wholly rejoice in their strength. But the old saving
prejudice has now died out (greatly to the delight of the Devil), and
there seems no chance that it will be revived.

Of other languages no harm comes. None of us--none, at any rate, outside
the diplomatic service--has a feeling that he ought to be master of
them. In every recent generation a few men have learned Italian because
of the Divina Commedia; and a very few others have tried Spanish, with
a view to Cervantes; and German has pestered not always vainly the
consciences of young men gravitating to philosophy or to science. But
not for social, not for any oral purposes were these languages essayed.
If an Italian or a Spanish or a German came among us he was expected to
converse in English or spend his time in visiting the sights silently
and alone. No language except French has ever--but stay! There was, at
the outbreak of the War, a great impulse towards Russian. All sorts of
people wanted their children to be taught Russian without a moment's
delay. I do not remember that they wanted to learn it themselves; but
they felt an extreme need that their offspring should hereafter be able
to converse with moujiks about ikons and the Little Father and anything
else--if there were anything else--that moujiks cared about. This
need, however, is not felt now. When, so soon after his de'but in high
politics, M. Kerensky was superseded by M. Lenin, Russian was forthwith
deemed a not quite nice language, even for children.