If you pronounce a recently imported French phrase in an exceedingly authentic manner, you will appear Frasieresque. If, however, you drench the new arrival in too much crème anglaise, you risk resemblance to the silk-suited down-home hero of Chuck Berry’s Promised Land. (You remember him, don’t you? He’s the ‘poor boy’ who famously enjoyed a ‘t-bone steak ah lah carty’ on a flight from Albuquerque to Los Angeles.)
Happily, there are many cases in which a via media will present itself. Thus, for example, one can easily anglicize beau geste by eliminating the echo of a distant lawnmower that appears at the start of the second word. Every once in a while, however, a speaker of English will encounter a French expression that defies such simple solutions.
Consider, if you will, beaux arts.
Replicating the bee-like, Bozo-evoking, buzzing at the heart of this dynamic duo will strike most speakers of English as un peu de trop. At the same time, eliminating the connecting consonant produces a pair of syllables poorly suited to the abilities of Anglophone ears.
Faute de mieux, one might say 'bohz arts’ or ‘boh arts’. (The online translator that provided both pronunciations tells me that, while the former accords with American practice, the latter reflects British usage.) While, both manage to combine pretentious intent with parochial execution, they tower above the monstrosity that is ‘bohcks arts’.
So, to quote the immortal words of the aforementioned Frasier Crane, ‘what is a boy to do?’
I, for one, consulted with Mrs. Muros, who, being wise in the way of words, advised me to abandon my quixotic attempt to domesticate the unwieldy expression. ‘When discussing painting, sculpture, and the like’, she explained, ‘“fine arts” will suffice. Likewise, the woman who, with reliable forbearance and heroic good humor, frequently indulges my irrational fondness for train travel, added, ‘when the subject at hand is architecture, you need only say “in the style of Union Station”.’
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Great stuff. I must, however, state clearly that if the choice is between Chuck Berry and the French, it's Chuck Berry every time.
Leeburtay, Eegaleetay, Fraturneetay mon frère.
My first encounter with this was from figuring out what H.L. Mencken was referring to in his essay "Sahara of the Bozart" (1919). I don't believe I'd ever heard the term before.