The great trouble of those who travel and do not like it,--the overpowering parent grief,--is in the language. The unfortunate tourist cannot speak to those among whom he is going. This simply, without the composite additions to the fact which come to him from the state of his own mind upon the subject, would be a misfortune,--a want to be lamented. But the simple misfortune is light, indeed, in comparison with that to which it is increased by those composite additions of his own fabrication. The tourist in question can speak no word of German or Italian, but unfortunately he can speak a word or two of French, and hence comes all his trouble. Not to speak German or Italian is not disgraceful, but to be ignorant of French is, in his eyes, a disgrace. Shall he make his attempts and save himself by his little learning? or shall he remain mute and thus suggest the possibility of positive knowledge? Doubting between the two he vacillates, and can obtain neither the comparative safety of absolute dependence, nor the substantial power of responsible action. For the first fortnight he stumbles along with his broken words, making what effort is in his power; but it seems to himself that from day to day the phrases become more difficult rather than easier, and at last he gives himself up into the hands of some more advanced linguist, revenging himself upon his friends by a solemn and enduring melancholy, as though he were telling every one around him that, in spite of his incapacity to speak French, he had something within him surpassing show. That this man is making a great mistake is certain enough, but it is a mistake to which he is driven by erroneous public utterances on the subject. It is not true, in fact, that he is in any way disgraced by his ignorance of French; but it is true that he has so been told by those who write and those who talk upon the matter. To speak French well is a great advantage and a charming grace. Not to speak it at all is a great disadvantage, but it is no disgrace. Circumstances with many have not given them opportunity of learning the language; and others have no aptitude for acquiring a foreign tongue. There is no disgrace in this. But there is very deep disgrace in the consciousness of deceit on the subject,--in the self-knowledge possessed by the unfortunate one that he desires to be supposed capable of doing that which he cannot do. It is from this that he becomes sore; and how terribly common are the instances of such soreness!