We see that Tory does not beat about the bush concerning his theory, which, although it was different from those of his predecessors, was not on that account better than theirs.[73] However, let his opinion concerning the original design of the roman letters be what it may, it is, in my judgement, simply a sort of preface which we may pass over without inconvenience. The real substance of his work is in the third book. But he does not leave the second without returning once more to the charge in favour of his mother tongue.
'I know,' he says, 'that there are many goodly minds who would willingly write many excellent things if they thought they could write them well in Greek or Latin; and yet they abstain for fear of making solecisms or some other fault that they dread; or they choose not to write in French, thinking the French tongue not good nor elegant enough. With all respect to them, it is one of the most beauteous and graceful of all human tongues, as I have shown in the first book by the authority of noble and ancient authors, poets and orators, as well Latin as Greek.'[74]
To be accurate, I will say that this idea of the 'preëxcellence of the French tongue,' which, a little later, was the subject of another special work on the part of another famous printer, the second Henri Estienne, was neither new nor original with Tory. No less than three hundred years before, it had been set forth in honest French by an author who cannot be taxed with patriotic illusions, for he was an Italian. This is what Brunetto Latini wrote at the beginning of a sort of encyclopædia which he prepared in the thirteenth century, under the name of 'Trésor':--
'Et se aucuns demandoit por quoi cist livres est escriz en romans selonc le langage des François, puisque nos somes Ytaliens, je diroie que ce est por deux raisons: lune, car nos somes en France, et lautre, porce que la parleure est plus delitable et plus commune a toutes gens.'[75]
As I have said, the third book is the important part of Tory's work. Laying theory aside, he there gives us the exact design of the letters of the alphabet and the method of executing them. He does not overlook, moreover, this essential fact--that the designer of letters and the printer ought before all else to be grammarians in the ancient meaning of the word[76]; and at the same time that he gives us the shape of a letter, he instructs us as to its value and pronunciation. It is at this point that Tory's book becomes especially interesting to us: he passes in review the pronunciation in vogue in each of the French provinces, or nations, as they were called then. One after another they appear before us, with their special idioms, which have become mere myths to-day,--Flemings, Burgundians, Lyonnaises, Forésiens, Manseaux, Berrichons, Normans, Bretons, Lorrainers, Gascons, Picards, and even Italians, Germans, English, Scotch, etc. His observations do not stop at the somewhat mixed idioms of the men,[77] but extend to the more individual language of the women. For instance, he informs us that 'the ladies of Lyon often gracefully pronounce A for E, as when they say, "Choma vous choma chat effeta,"[78] and a thousand other like expressions'; whereas, on the contrary, 'the ladies of Paris very often pronounce E instead of A, as when they say: "Mon mery est a la porte de Peris, ou il se faict peier"; instead of saying, "Mon mary est a la porte de Paris, ou il se faict paier."'[79]