This is immediately evident in its style and language. Between Amyot， Rabelais and Montaigne on the one hand， and Chateaubriand， Victor Hugo and Honoré de Balzac on the other， classic French comes into being and dies. From the very first it is described at the language of "honest people." It is fashioned not merely for them， but by them， and Vaugelas，[11] their secretary， devotes himself for thirty years to the registry of decisions according to the usages only of good society. Hence， throughout， both in vocabulary and in grammar， the language is refashioned over and over again， according to the cast of their intellects， which is the prevailing intellect. -In the first place the vocabulary is diminished：
* Most of the words specially employed on erudite and technical subjects， expressions that are too Greek or too Latin， terms peculiar to the schools， to science， to occupations， to the household， are excluded from discourse；* those too closely denoting a particular occupation or profession are not considered proper in general conversation.
* A vast number of picturesque and expressive words are dropped， all that are crude， gaulois or naifs， all that are local and provincial， or personal and made-up， all familiar and proverbial locutions，[12] many brusque， familiar and frank turns of thought， every haphazard， telling metaphor， almost every description of impulsive and dexterous utterance throwing a flash of light into the imagination and bringing into view the precise， colored and complete form， but of which a too vivid impression would run counter to the proprieties of polite conversation.
"One improper word，" said Vaugelas， "is all that is necessary to bring a person in society into contempt，"and， on the eve of the Revolution， an objectionable term denounced by Madame de Luxembourg still consigns a man to the rank of "espèces，"because correct expression is ever an element of good manners. -Language， through this constant scratching， is attenuated and becomes colorless： Vaugelas estimates that one-half of the phrases and terms employed by Amyot are set aside.[13] With the exception of La Fontaine， an isolated and spontaneous genius， who reopens the old sources， and La Bruyère， a bold seeker， who opens a fresh source， and Voltaire an incarnate demon who， in his anonymous and pseudonymous writings， gives the rein to the violent， crude expressions of his inspiration，[14] the terms which are most appropriate fall into desuetude. One day， Gresset， in a discourse at the Academy， dares utter four or five of these，[15] relating， I believe， to carriages and head-dresses， whereupon murmurs at once burst forth. During his long retreat he had become provincial and lost the touch. - By degrees， discourses are composed of "general expressions" only. These are even employed， in accordance with Buffon's precept， to designate concrete objects. They are more in conformity with the polished courtesy which smoothes over， appeases， and avoids rough or familiar expressions， to which some views appear gross or rude unless partly hidden by a veil.
This makes it easier for the superficial listener； prevailing terms alone will immediately arouse current and common ideas； they are intelligible to every man from the single fact that he belongs to the drawing-room； special terms， on the contrary， demand an effort of the memory or of the imagination. Suppose that， in relation to Franks or to savages， I should mention "a battle-ax，" which would be at once understood； should I mention a "tomahawk，" or a "francisque，"[16] many would imagine that I was speaking Teuton or Iroquois.[17] In this respect the more fashionable and refined the style， the more punctilious the effort. Every appropriate term is banished from poetry； if one happens to enter the mind it must be evaded or replaced by a paraphrase. An eighteenth century poet can hardly permit himself to employ more than one-third of the dictionary， poetic language at last becomes so restricted as to compel a man with anything to say not to express himself in verse.[18]