Is "cordially" in a class with "frankly" and "honestly" and "I must confess that...", those expressions we throw in to compliment our own candor? (Do you doubt that we do that? Have you ever heard "I must confess" without hearing a follow-up that wasn't, though possibly naughty, a credit to the speaker?)
Maybe, I know, throw-ins are too dead to count. Maybe they're all like "a bit of," the British understatement tic. Nobody pays much attention.
But maybe not. If there's still a flick of self-praise in some of them we don't want to feel it in those that are innocent. If I sign a note, "Cordially," and mean only to show warm feelings toward my reader I should surely be free of criticism.
On the other hand, if I sign off, "Your cordial host," I think I'm fair game for the word-grump. "Look. You do the hosting. I'll tell you how warm and hearty you are."
There's clearly a wrong side here. You're on it when you say things appropriate only in the mouth of the other person. Going home you want your guests to say, "He was such a cordial host." If you jump in and say it first it's personal PR. You're in a class with the publisher who turns a blurb-word into a title: The Trout Fisherman's Bible. (Grump reviewer: "You do the book on fishing. I'll decide whether it's referenced enough to be called a Bible.")
It's the difficulty in drawing the line that makes "cordial" interesting. "I send you my most cordial greetings." What side is that on? The word just seems to generate borderline cases.
This reminds me of the French use of cordialement, which is what one puts at the end of informal letters (including emails). It is a more modern version of, I pray you to accept my most distinguished salutations. If you have had previous exchanges with the person, you often say, Tres cordialement. but in no case is warmth actually implied.
ReplyDeleteDid they really say "my most distinguished salutations"? That's really complimenting yourself. But maybe it's totally dead.
ReplyDeletePerhaps people deserve distinguished salutations, no matter who they come from. But one can also send respectful salutations, sincere salutations, warm salutations and, wouldn't you know it, cordial. Just to make matters more complicated, you can also send your most distinguished, warm etc. sentiments. I believe women are not supposed to use sentiments but am not sure why.
ReplyDeleteFrom Marcienne Rocard:
ReplyDeleteWe are all faced with the problem of finishing our letters or e-mails. The French etiquette in this regard is particularly finicky. The whole gamut of formulas is to be found: from endearing terms (sincere or not), like love, kisses, hugs... to impersonal, trite business endings. In between "cordially" tries to convey both feelings and a sort of social, not purely financial, agreement.
As a matter of fact, it all depends on the addressee, his/her age, station in life, nationality,. And this reminds me of our first frustrating experience with Japanese culture. Having been splendidly entertained in Kyoto by one of J-M.'s physicist colleagues, who happened to be related to the imperial family (that was way back in 1967) we wanted to send a thank-you note to the mother who had been such a gracious hostess. Once in Vancouver, B.C. we asked Japanese friends to please write out our heart-felt thanks to that lady. Our friends refused flatly to oblige, arguing that they knew too little about the lady and thus were not in a position to write a suitable note. Finally we wrote her (who knew no French nor English) in English...
H.R. adds: I well understand. We soon discovered that without knowing the honorifics — which vary with gender, age, and station in society — you can't speak properly in Japan. Luckily for us the Japanese are very forgiving of foreigners.
It's the kind of thing that makes you wonder about what your linguistic inheritance has done to your thinking. We had grown up using words much less situation-specific than theirs. That you might use a different numbering system for slender things than you used for flat things, for example, never occurred to us. We did learn it, from a book, but it was very hard to keep in mind (as Mary Anne found when she ordered five rolled-pastry appetizers once and got five platters of them.)
We might have been happier if we'd been trying to write poetry. The editor of the Dartmouth Bible, I remember, thought that a situation-specific language, like ancient Hebrew, keeping you and your reader close to the concrete world, made for more vivid poetry. And that's why the Old Testament was so great, and why translation into Greek distorted it so. Greek words had become abstract counters, coins with the pictures all worn off, and the poetry, the metaphors, couldn't come across. All while philosophers were happily passing them around, and down to us. Interesting idea, but hard to pursue if you don't know much Hebrew or Greek.