The general unsoundness of what is termed an English education is, to a
great extent, accounted for by the little attention paid in the
Universities, Colleges, and Schools to teaching our native language, and
especially to the proper teaching of English in schools for the people.
The results of this neglect of the mother-tongue are multitudinous. “The
mass of our population, in spite of all that has been done, must be
considered densely ignorant. Millions never open a book. Nearly fifteen
millions never enter church or chapel. Other causes may operate, but the
want of a knowledge of language is a potent one. People whose vocabulary
is limited to about three hundred words cannot follow a sermon, and
clergymen who have never been taught the value of plain Saxon English
cannot preach one. Then, amongst the middle and upper classes, how
superficial is the knowledge of English. How few can write a common
letter without faults in grammar, choice of words, or spelling.
Punctuation is absolutely ignored by many. What are the speeches at
public meetings, or rather, how would they appear in print but for the
talent of the reporters, who bring order out of chaos? The results of
the Civil-Service Examinations abundantly prove the justice of these
strictures; and the fruits of University training, or rather
non-training, are too patent to require illustration. Our clergy often
carry into the prayer-desk and pulpit all the defects of early life,—the
provincial accent, the sing-song tone, the nasal twang, the lisp, or
burr, or stammer; indistinct utterance, inaudible reading and
vociferation, wrong emphasis, undue stress on enclitics, and many other
faults. Good sermons are the exception rather than the rule; for if
sound in doctrine and full of zeal, the style is often obscure or
pedantic or inflated, and the delivery monotonous and soporific. In the
Senate, though most of the Members are University men, there are but few
really effective speakers. Were our senators trained to speak well—that
is, to the point—much time would be saved, and public business
despatched more rapidly.”
The remedies suggested by the Rev. Dr. D’Orsey are:
1. Training-schools for nursery governesses, who, without knowing or
pretending to know French and Italian, should speak English without
vulgarisms. 2. Greater attention in our present training colleges
for schoolmasters to due instruction in English, especially in
correct and fluent speaking. 3. More encouragement to men of talent
and education to become and to remain schoolmasters, by holding out
the prospect of honourable offices to distinguished teachers. Why
should Inspectorships of Schools be always given to clergymen and
barristers, to the exclusion of the schoolmaster? 4. The appointment
of a thoroughly accomplished scholar as English Master in every
great public school, of equal rank with the other masters. 5. The
endowment of at least one Professorship in every University. 6. The
recognition of English as a subject in every examination not
strictly scientific, and rewarding distinction in composition or
oratory in the same substantial manner as eminence in classics or
mathematics.
Sir John Coleridge relates the following inefficient examples of
school-teaching which have come under his observation: “An Examiner was
about, and he had a class before him—the first class in arithmetic. They
were able to answer questions; they had gone through all the higher
branches of arithmetic, and were prepared to answer any thing. But he
said, ‘I will give you a sum in simple addition.’ He accordingly
dictated a sum, and cautiously interspersed a good many ciphers.
Suppose, for instance, he said, ‘a thousand and forty-nine.’ He found
there was not one in the class who was able to put down that sum in
simple addition; they could not make count of the ciphers. That showed
him the boys had been suffered to pass over far too quickly the
elementary parts of arithmetic. The examiner took them in grammar, and
quoted a few lines from Cowper—
I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute.
‘What governs right?’ There was not a boy could say, till it was put to
them, ‘none to dispute my right.’
“Let me impress upon you that the best motto you can take for yourselves
in this respect is that which was taken by a most eminent man who made
his way from a hair-dresser’s shop to be Chief Justice Tenterden. What
was his motto? When a man is made a judge, he is made a serjeant; and as
serjeant he gives rings to some of the great officers of State, with a
motto upon each. His motto was ‘Labore.’ He did not refer to his own
talents. It was not ‘Invita Minerva.’ To his immortal honour be it
said—from the hair-dresser’s shop in Canterbury to the Free School in
Canterbury; from the Free School in Canterbury to Corpus Christi
College; from Corpus Christi College to the bar; from the bar to the
bench; from the bench to the peerage—he achieved all with unimpeachable
honour, and always practising that which was his motto at last. One of
the most gratifying scenes I have ever witnessed was when that man went
up to the House of Peers in his robes for the first time, attended by
the whole bar of England.”