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Updated: June 27, 2025
The Abbe Prevost and Buffon between them, however, did a good deal more disfigurement to Battell's sober account than 'cutting off an article. Thus Battell's statement that the Pongos "cannot speake, and have no understanding more than a beast," is rendered by Buffon "qu'il ne peut parler 'quoiqu'il ait plus d'entendement que les autres animaux'"; and again, Purchas' affirmation, "He told me in conference with him, that one of these Pongos tooke a negro boy of his which lived a moneth with them," stands in the French version, "un pongo lui enleva un petit negre qui passa un 'an' entier dans la societe de ces animaux."
In this form it is supposed they were sung or recited at the feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. The following specimen of the language and style of Robert de Beauvais, who flourished in 1257, is from Sir Walter Scott's "Introduction to the Romance of Sir Tristrem": "Ne voil pas emmi dire, Ici diverse la matyere, Entre ceus qui solent cunter, E de le cunte Tristran parler."
They also talk a vast deal about the little essays of criticism. In yesterday's Journal des Debats, after a flaming panegyric on Buonaparte, "Et apres avoir parle de l'univers de qui peut-on parler? Des plus grandes des Poetes de Racine": then follows a criticism on Phedre.
This morning came workmen to begin the making of me a new pair of stairs up out of my parler, which, with other work that I have to do, I doubt will keep me this two months and so long I shall be all in dirt; but the work do please me very well. To the office, and there all the morning, dined at home, and after dinner comes Mr.
'Well, Susan, said he, rather offended at hearing his friend spoken of so disrespectfully, 'if you take Mr Arabin for a goose, I cannot say that I think very highly of your discrimination. 'A goose! No of course, he's not a goose. I've no doubt he's a very clever man. But you're so matter-of-fact, archdeacon, when it suits your purpose, that one can't trust oneself to any facon de parler.
Both were façons de parler, and the word "provisional" saved them from ridicule they would otherwise have deserved. I remember speaking to a prominent Sinn Feiner only a couple of days before the revolt with a view to writing an article on the Volunteers, and this is what he said: "It would be very difficult for anyone to write anything just at present, for things are trembling in the balance.
We had on board forty-six passengers, amongst whom were several Frenchmen, who again gave me occasion to remark the loquacity of their nation; and they only agreed with La Fontaine in the former part of the line, where he says, "Il est bon de parler, et meilleur de se taire;" 'Tis good to speak, but better to be silent.
La Bruyère, in the darkness of his pessimism, sometimes suggests Swift, especially in his sarcastically serious treatment of detail; but he was without the virulent bitterness of the great Dean. In fact his indictment owes much of its impressiveness to the sobriety with which it is presented. There is no rage, no strain, no over-emphasis; one feels as one reads that this is an impartial judge. And, more than that, one feels that the judge is not only a judge, but also a human being. It is the human quality in La Bruyère's mind which gives his book its rare flavour, so that one seems to hear, in these printed words, across the lapse of centuries, the voice of a friend. At times he forgets his gloom and his misanthropy, and speaks with a strange depth of feeling on friendship or on love. 'Un beau visage, he murmurs, 'est le plus beau de tous les spectacles, et l'harmonie la plus douce est le son de voix de celle que l'on aime. And then 'Être avec les gens qu'on aime, cela suffit; rever, leur parler, ne leur parler point, penser
Scrope, Mrs. and Dr. Brewster, Whytbank, Russell, and young Nicol Milne, who will be a pleasant lad if he had a little polish. I was glad of the society, as I had rather felt the besoin de parler, which was perhaps one cause of my recent dumps. Scrope and Colonel Russell stayed all night; the rest went home. March 22.
Set 'em yourself!" "Can't come! What you doin'?" shrieked the other voice. "I'm entertainin' comp'ny in the parler, that's what I'm doin'! It's somebody come to see me. An' I'm goin' to wait right here till I find out what they come for!" On the heels of that, Nancy slammed the parlor door, and sat down.
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