Chapter I: Make the Acquaintance of Public School Boys.--"when I Was a Little (3)

French and English beaches illustrate best to my mind the way in which the two nations take their pleasures.

The French seem to set out for their holiday with a thorough determination to enjoy themselves. When they go to the seaside they go there on pleasure bound.

On French beaches every body makes acquaintance; the children play together under the eyes of happy papas and mammas, the grown-up ones go out in large parties bathing, boating, and fishing; and in the evening all meet at the Casino, where there are ball-rooms, concert-rooms, reading and smoking rooms, etc. No doubt many of the people you mix with there are not such as you would wish to invite to your house on a visit, but, the season over, these friends of a day are forgotten, and there remains the benefit to health and spirits from a thorough merry time.

In the English seaside resort, every bather looks askance at his fellow.

"Who is he at home?" or "What was his grandfather?" are questions that he must get satisfactorily answered before he associates with him; and rather than run the risk of frequenting the company of persons of inferior blood he is often bored to death with the monotony of the life, and is glad when it is time to take the children back to school or his own occupations call him away from the sea.

Dear British parents, if you have a garden and fields near your house, and you would like to make your boys happy, call them home for the holidays.

* * * * *

Apart from the aristocracy, it has always been a subject of wonder to me that caste should be so strong among the middle classes, in a country like England, who owes her greatness to her commercial and adventurous spirit.

In France, what is required of a _gentleman_ is high education and refined manners. A peasant's son possessing these is received in any society.

In England, boys begin swaggering about their social position as soon as they leave the nursery, and if you would have some fun, you should follow groups of public school-boys in the playground or on their way home.

Of course, in public schools, the occupation of parents cannot be an objection to their sons' admission, and in your class-room you may have dukes' and saloon-keepers' sons sitting on the same form. These are treated on an equal footing; although I believe the head-master of a working public school would prefer the hangman's son, if a clever lad, to the son of a duke, if he were a fool.

Yes, those groups will afford you a great deal of amusement.

Here are the sons of professional men, of officers, clergymen, barristers. See them pointing out other boys passing: "Sons of merchants, don't you know!"

These are not without their revenge, as they look at a group close by: "Sons of clerks, you know!"

But you should see the contemptuous glance of the latter as they pass the sons of shopkeepers: "Tradespeople's sons, I believe!"

* * * * *

Here is a little sample conversation I caught as I passed two boys watching a game of cricket in the playground.

"Clever chap, So-and-So!" said one.

"And a nice fellow too, isn't he?" said the other.

"By-the-bye, did you know his father was a chemist?"

"A chemist! No!" exclaimed the dear boy in a subdued tone, as if the news had taken his breath away. "A chemist! you don't mean to say so. What mistakes we are liable to make, to be sure! I always thought he was a gentleman."

XV.

HE CAN NOT SPEAK FRENCH, BUT HE CAN READ IT, YOU KNOW.--HE HAS A TRY AT IT IN PARIS.--NASAL SOUNDS AND ACCENTED SYLLABLES.--HOW I REDUCED ENGLISH WORDS TO SINGLE SYLLABLES, AND WAS SUCCESSFUL IN THE OBJECT I HAD IN VIEW.--A REMARK ON THE CONNECTION OF WORDS.

When you ask an Englishman whether he can speak French, he generally answers:

"I can read it, you know."

"Aloud!" you inquire, with a significant smile.

"Well," he says, "I have never had much practice in reading French aloud. I mean to say that I can understand what I read. Of course, now and then I come across a word that I am not quite sure about, but I can get on, you know."

"I suppose you manage to make yourself understood in France."

"Oh! very little French is required for that; I always go to the English hotels."

He always does so on the Continent, because these hotels are the only ones that can provide him with English comfort.

When he starts for Paris he gets on capitally till he reaches Calais. There he assumes his insular stiffness, which we Continental people take for arrogance, but is, in reality, only dignified timidity.

Arrived at the Gare du Nord, he takes a cab and goes to one of the hotels in the Rue Saint Honore or the Rue de Rivoli.

The first time he reached one of these establishments, he tripped on getting out of his cab, and fell on the pavement. The porter helped him up and asked him:

"_Avez-vous du mal, monsieur?_"

He thought the porter took him for a Frenchman, and he prepared to answer in French. Believing he was asked if "he had two trunks," he answers:

"No, only a portmanteau."

After this first success, he thought he would air his French.

"_Garcon!_" he calls; "_j'ai faim._"

He pronounces this quite perfectly, so perfectly that the waiter, understanding that he is married, informs him that he can have apartments ready for Madame.

"He is obstinate and will have another shot:

"_Je suis fameux, garcon!_"

The waiter bows respectfully.

This won't do, dear fellow; try again.

"_Je suis femme!_" he yells.

This staggers the waiter.

It is time to inquire of him if he speaks English.

"Can you speak English?"

"Oh yes, sir."

Our traveler is all right again, but he thinks that those confounded French people have a queer manner of pronouncing their own language.

* * * * *

With the exception of our nasal sounds, which I know are stumbling-blocks to Englishmen--who will always insist on calling our great music composer and pianist Saint-Saens, "Sang Songs"--I never could understand that the difficulty of our pronunciation was insuperable. Our vowels are bold, well-marked, always sounded the same, and, except _u_, like the English vowels, or so nearly like them that they can not prevent an Englishman from understanding French and speaking it.

The greatest mistake he makes is in not bearing in mind that the accent should always be laid on the last syllable, or on the last but one if the word ends in _e_ mute. How much easier this is to remember than the place of the English accented syllable, which varies constantly! In _admirable_, you have it on the first; in _admire_, on the second; in _admiration_, on the third. On the contrary, no difficulty about the pronunciation of the three French words, _admirable_, _admirer_, and _admiration_; the tonic accent falls on the last sound syllable in every case.

* * * * *

The less educated a man is the more stress he lays on the accented syllables; and you find the lower classes of a country lay such emphasis on these syllables that they almost pronounce nothing else. Being unable to make myself understood when pronouncing whole English words, I have often tried to use only the accented syllables when speaking to the lower class people of England; in every attempt I have been successful.

I obtained a basket of strawberries in Covent Garden Market by asking for a "_bask of strawbs_."

A lower class Yankee will understand few Frenchmen who speak to him of _America_; but he will understand them if they speak to him of _Merk_.

* * * * *

The greatest defect in an Englishman's pronunciation of French is generally in the wrong connection of words between which there is no pause.

The final consonant of a word, followed by another beginning with a vowel or _h_ mute, should be pronounced as if it belonged to the latter word. An Englishman sounds _ses amis_ as if it was _seize amis_. He should say: "se samis."

"Mon ami est a Paris" = "Mo nami e ta Paris."

Perhaps the following remark on the separation of syllables may fix the rule:

The English say: _mag-nan-im-ity_.

The French say: ma-gna-ni-mi-te.

* * * * *

You see, dear reader, how difficult it is to refrain from talking "shop," when one has been a school-master.

XVI.

PUBLIC SCHOOL SCHOLARSHIPS AND EXHIBITIONS.--GRATEFUL PARENTS.-- INQUIRING MOTHERS.--A DEAR LITTLE CANDIDATE.--LADIES' TESTIMONIALS. --A SCIENCE MASTER WELL RECOMMENDED.

It seems strange that in a democratic country, overburdened with school-rates, free education should be offered in the public schools to the children of the well-to-do and even wealthy people. To give opportunities to those who have clever children and cannot afford to pay for their education, such was the spirit which dictated the foundation of scholarships and exhibitions in the public schools, which schools are under the supervision of the Charity Commissioners.

The Charity Commissioners! The organizers of that well-ordered British charity which begins at home!

But all this again does not concern me. If it did, I should say to gentlemen enjoying revenues of L700, L800, and L1,000 a year: "My dear sirs, you can afford to pay school fees for your children; please to leave these scholarships to your less fortunate countrymen."

My diary contains a few recollections about foundation scholars and their parents which suggested the foregoing remarks to me. Pardon me for having given them a place here.

* * * * *

I have always noticed that the parents of foundation scholars are much more troublesome and exacting than those who pay their twenty or thirty pounds a year to the school for their sons' tuition fees.

The school is their property, the masters their servants, and when complaints are lodged with the authorities you may be sure they come from them.

They imagine, for instance, that the school ought to provide the boys with books, and think it very hard that they should be called upon to pay for them. When their sons are ordered to get a new book, they generally take a fortnight to obtain it.

"Where is your book?" you say to a scholar you see looking at his neighbor's.

"Please, sir, it has not come yet; I have ordered it at the stores."

Two weeks later the book makes its appearance.

When the boys raise subscriptions for their sports, which ought to be supported especially by those who owe a debt of gratitude to the school, or for a testimonial got up in favor of a retiring master, or in memory of a celebrated old pupil, the few recalcitrants are invariably to be found among the free scholars.

* * * * *

Our boys one day decided on founding a little literary society. As a few periodicals were to be bought and other little expenses incurred, their committee passed a resolution that an annual subscription of five shillings should be demanded of the members.

A father immediately wrote to the young president of the new society, asking if it was compulsory for his boy to join the society, as he did not see the force of paying five shillings for what, he thought, his boy was entitled to enjoy for nothing. The _pater_ received his due by return of post. The president of the society answered:

"DEAR SIR:

"Your son is not at all compelled to join our society. The
subscription of five shillings was decided upon simply to keep our
meetings select."

* * * * *

The Englishman has a supreme contempt for what is cheap. It is in his nature. He cannot understand that there is any value in what he has not to pay for.

I cannot forget the time when a young lunatic hanged himself at Christ's Hospital, and the plethora of letters that were sent to the papers by parents who seemed to be anxious to seize the opportunity of trying to bring discredit on that splendidly conducted school, one of the most interesting philanthropic institutions in England.

A father, sheltering himself behind a pseudonym, went the length of writing to the _Daily News_ to say that he had had three sons educated at Christ's Hospital, but that he thanked God he had not any more to send there.

The Governors of Christ's Hospital spend L60 a year upon each blue-coat boy. The three sons of this "indignant" father therefore cost the Hospital something like L2,000.

What respect this man would have felt for the school if the money had been drawn out of his own pocket in the shape of capitation fees!

* * * * *

The following conversation once took place between a lady and the head master of a great public school:

"I have a little boy eleven years old," said the lady, "whom my husband is anxious to have educated here. He is a very clever little fellow. We have heard that, on leaving the school to go to one of the two great universities, some boys received exhibitions varying in value from L80 to L100 a year for four years. Do you think, sir, that our son would get one, for the probability of his obtaining such an exhibition would be a great inducement to us to trust the boy to your care?"

"Well," replied the head-master, with great command over his countenance, "I am afraid I cannot commit myself to any such promise."

The lady retired. Her promising son was probably sent to a more accommodating school.

* * * * *

The same head-master once received the visit of a man who asked him point-blank if the scholarship examinations were conducted honestly, or, in other words, if the scholarships were given according to merit.

From the answer he received he deemed it expedient to beat a speedy retreat.

* * * * *

When a school has to offer, say, six scholarships to the public, and there are a hundred candidates applying for them, you may easily imagine that it is difficult to persuade the parents of the ninety-four boys who fail that the scholarships are given according to merit.

In distributing six scholarships among a hundred candidates you make six ungrateful fathers and ninety-four discontented ones.

* * * * *

Whilst our school was being rebuilt in another part of the metropolis, a loving mother called on the head-master in the City to intimate her intention of placing her little boy in the school as soon as the new building would be finished, and also to ask if she would be allowed to see the room in which her dear child would be taught.

It was a great pity the building was not advanced enough at the time to permit of her securing a corner for "her darling pet."

* * * * *

The mother to be most dreaded is the one whose husband has left her for India, or some other warm climate. She is restless, inquisitive, and never satisfied. Each remark you make to her son brings her on the school premises for inquiries. She writes letter upon letter, pays visit upon visit.

Once a week her son brings you a little note in the following style:

"Mrs. X. presents her compliments to Mr. So-and-so, and begs that her son may be excused for not having prepared his lesson, as he had a bad headache last night."

A husband may be a nuisance in a house, but when I was a school-master I always thought he was a great improvement to it.

* * * * *

(_In the Examination Room._)

Sometimes parents send up their sons for scholarship examinations with very little luggage.

I remember a dear little boy, between ten and eleven, who was a candidate for one of our vacant scholarships.

On reaching the seat that was assigned to him, he was provided with the Latin paper by the school secretary, and presented with half a ream of beautiful writing paper for his answers.

We thought he did not appear very busy, and presently, as I came up to him, I spoke a few kind words and gave him a little pat on the back.

"Well, how are you getting on?" I said.

"Please, sir, I can't do this paper. I don't know what it is about," he said, looking at me as if for help.

"Don't you know any Latin?" I inquired.

"Yes, sir; I know my first two declensions."

"Is that all the Latin you know?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you won't take up Greek, will you?"

"I expect I had better not, sir, as I have never learned any," he replied, with his eyes half out of their sockets. "Is it difficult, sir?" he suggested, thinking I was not looking satisfied with his answer.

"Not very," I replied; "but if I were you I would not have my first try at it to-day."

"Thank you, sir," said my little friend.

"Do you know any French?" I then asked.

"Please, sir, mamma taught me a few sentences."

"Well, let me hear."

"Please, sir, I know _Quelle heure est-il?_ and _Comment vous portez-vous?_"

"Any grammar?"

"No, sir."

"Don't you know the French for _I shall have_?"

"No, sir, I don't think I do."

"Do you know any mathematics?"

"Do you mean arithmetic, sir?"

"Yes, I do."

"Please, sir, I can do addition, subtraction, multiplication, and short division."

"I suppose you will try the English subjects. Do you know any English?"

"Yes, sir, I can speak English," he said, looking at me with surprise.

"Of course you can," I replied; "but you know some history, I suppose. Have you ever read any English history?"

"Yes, sir, I have read 'Robinson Crusoe.'"

"Well, well, my poor boy, I am afraid you have not much chance of getting a scholarship."

"Haven't I?" said the dear child, and he burst into tears. Then he handed me a letter, which was addressed to the head-master.

It was a supplication from his mother. Her little boy was very clever, she said, and she hoped he would not be judged by what he actually knew, but by what she was sure he would be able to learn if admitted into the school.

Poor child! we comforted him as well as we could, and sent him back to his mamma. He was very miserable.

* * * * *

Ladies are sometimes great at testimonials, and they must think it very ungentlemanly of men not to favor their candidates.

When our head science mastership was vacant, over a hundred applications were lodged with the head-master for his consideration. I remember that among the candidates there was one who was only provided with a single testimonial, and this from a lady (an old lady, I imagine). The testimonial was to the effect that "she had known Mr. P. for many years. He was a good and steady young man, and she knew he was very fond of science."

This testimonial failed to secure the appointment for its owner.

XVII.

THE ORIGIN OF ANGLOMANIA AND ANGLOPHOBIA IN ENGLAND.--A TYPICAL FRENCHMAN.--TOO MUCH OF AN ENGLISHMAN.--A REMARKABLE FRENCH MASTER. --JOHN BULL MADE TO GO TO CHURCH BY A FRENCHMAN.--A NOBLE AND THANKLESS CAREER.--A PLACE OF LEARNING.--MONS. AND ESQUIRE.--ALL LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.--ONE EXCEPTION.--WONDERFUL ADDRESSES.

The French in England are of two sorts, those who, by their intelligence, industry, and perseverance, have succeeded in building up an honorable position for themselves, and those who, by the lack of these qualities, vegetate there as they would be pretty sure to do anywhere.

The former do not all love the land of their adoption, but they all respect it. The latter, unwilling to lay their poverty at their own door, throw the blame upon England for not having understood them, and they have not a good word to say for her. It never occurred to them that it was theirs to study and understand England, and that England is not to be blamed for not having studied them and changed her ways to accommodate them.

They never part with a shilling without remarking that for a penny they would be able to obtain the same value in France. You often wonder how it is they stick to this country instead of honoring their own with their presence.

* * * * *

I have always been an admirer of that worthy Frenchman who carries his patriotism to the extent of buying all his clothing in France. He declares it impossible to wear English garments, and almost impossible to wear out French ones. Besides, he does not see why he should not give his country the benefit of some of the guineas he has picked up over here. Like every child of France, he has the love of good linen, and according to him the article is only to be found in Paris.

So he goes about in his narrow-brimmed hat, and turned-down collar fastened low in the neck, and finished off with a tiny black tie, a large expanse of shirt-front, and boots with high heels and pointed toes. As he goes along the street, he hears people whisper: "There's a Frenchman!" But, far from objecting to that, he rather likes it, and he is right.

He speaks bad English, and assures you that you require very few words to make yourself understood of the people. He does not go so far as Figaro, but his English vocabulary is of the most limited.

Without making any noise about it, he sends his guinea to all the French Benevolent Societies in England, and wherever the tricolor floats he is of the party.

He likes the English, and recognizes their solid qualities; but as he possesses many of his own, he keeps to his native stock.

* * * * *

How this good Frenchman does shine by the side of another type, a type which, I am happy to say, is rare--the one who drops his country.

The latter, when he speaks of England, says: "_We_ do this, _we_ do that, in England," not "The English do this, the English do that." He would like to say, "We English," but he hardly dares go that length.

He dresses _a l'anglaise_ with a vengeance, makes it a point to frequent only English houses, and spends a good deal of his time in running down his compatriots.

He does not belong to any of the French societies or clubs in England. These establishments, however, do not miss him much more than his own country.

I once knew one of this category. His name ended with an _e_ mute preceded by a double consonant. The _e_ mute was a real sore to him, the grief of his life. Without it he might have passed for English. It was too provoking to be thus balked, and, as he signed his name, he would dissimulate the poor offending little vowel, so that his name should appear to end at the double consonant.

He was not a genius.

* * * * *

Acting under the theory of Figaro, "_Qu'il n'est pas necessaire de tenir les choses pour en raisonner_," I have heard an Englishman, engaged in teaching French, maintain that it was not necessary to be able to speak the French language to teach it.

On the other hand, I once heard an eminent Frenchman hold that the less English a French master knew the more fit he was to teach French.

Both gentlemen begged their audience to understand that they made their statements on their own sole responsibility.

* * * * *

I never met a French master who had made his fortune, nor have you, I imagine.

I once met in England a French master who had not written a French grammar.

I was one day introduced to a Frenchman who keeps a successful school in the Midland counties. He makes it a rule to sternly refuse to let his boys go home in the neighboring town before one o'clock on Sundays. When parents ask him as a special favor to allow their sons to come to their house on Saturday night or early on Sunday morning, he answers: "I am sorry I cannot comply with your request. It has come to my knowledge that there are parents who do not insist on their children going to church, and I cannot allow any of my pupils to go home before they have attended divine service."

John Bull made to go to church by a Frenchman! The idea was novel, and I thought extremely funny.

* * * * *

To teach "the art of speaking and writing the French language correctly" is a noble but thankless career in England.

In France, the Government grants a pension to, and even confers the Legion of Honor upon, an English master[13] after he has taught his language in a _lycee_ for a certain number of years.

[13] Among the nominations in the Legion of Honor, published on
the 14th of July, 1884, I noticed the name of the English master
(an Englishman) in the _lycee_ of Bordeaux.

The Frenchman who has taught French in England all his lifetime is allowed, when he is done for, to apply at the French Benevolent Society for a free passage to France, where he may go and die quietly out of sight.

* * * * *

If you look at the advertisements published daily in the "educational" columns of the papers, you may see that compatriots of mine give private lessons in French at a shilling an hour, and teach the whole language in 24 or 26 lessons. Why not 25? I always thought there must be something cabalistic about the number 26. These gentlemen have to wear black coats and chimney-pots. How can they do it if their wives do not take in mangling?

Mystery.

* * * * *

In a southern suburb of London, I remember seeing a little house covered, like a booth at a fair, with boards and announcements that spoke to the passer-by of all the wonders to be found within.

On the front-door there was a plate with the inscription:

"Mons. D., of the University of France."

Now Englishmen who address Frenchmen as "Mons."[14] should be forgiven. They unsuccessfully aim at doing a correct thing. But a Frenchman dubbing himself "Mons." publishes a certificate of his ignorance.

[14] "_Mons._, a familiar and contemptuous abbreviation of
Monsieur."--LITTRE, "Dictionnaire de la Langue Francaise."

The house was a double-fronted one.

On the right window there was the inscription:

"French Classes for Ladies."

On the left one:

"French Classes for Gentlemen."

The sexes were separated as at the Turkish Baths.

On a huge board, placed over the front door, I read the following:

"_French Classes for Ladies and Gentlemen.
Greek, Latin, and Mathematical Classes.
Art and Science Department.
Music, Singing, and Dancing taught.
Private Lessons given, Families waited upon.
Schools attended.
For Terms and Curriculum, apply within._"

What a saving of trouble and expense it would have been to this living encyclopaedia if he had only mentioned what he did not teach!

Since I have called your attention to the expression _Mons._, and reminded you of its proper meaning, never send a letter to a Frenchman with the envelope addressed as _Mons._

I know, dear American reader, that _you_ never do. But you have friends. Well, tell them to write _Monsieur_ in full; or, as cobblers in their back parlors are now addressed as _Esquires_, rather confer the same honor upon a Frenchman. He will take it as a compliment.

Democracy is making progress in England. Where is the time when only land-owners, barristers, graduates of the Universities, were addressed as Esquires?

All ladies and gentlemen in England now.

* * * * *

Not all, though.

A young lady friend, who visits the poor in her district, called one day at a humble dwelling.

She knocked at the door, and on a woman opening it, asked to see Mrs. ----.

"Oh! very well," said the woman, and, leaving the young lady in the street, she went inside, and called out at the top of her voice:

"Ada, tell the _lady_ on the second floor that a _young person_ from the district wants to see her."

_Apropos_ of "Esquire" I should like to take the opportunity of paying a well-deserved compliment to the Postal Authorities in England.

Some eight years ago, I lived in the Herbert Road, Shooter's Hill, near London.

After three weeks of wonderful peregrinations, a letter, addressed in the following manner, duly reached me from France:

Angleterre Esquire

Monsieur....

Erbet Villa

pres Londres.

My dear compatriot had heard that "Esquire" had to be put somewhere, or else the letter would not reach me.

* * * * *

This is not the only letter addressed to me calculated to puzzle the postman.

A letter was once brought to me with the following high-flown inscription:

"Al gentilissimo cavaliere professore
Signor...."

But what is even this, compared to the one I received from a worthy Bulgarian, and which was addressed to

"Monsieur....
Metropolitain de Saint Paul."

I was at the time teaching under the shadow of London's great cathedral.

XVIII.

THE WAY TO LEARN MODERN LANGUAGES.

I have always felt a great deal of sympathy, and even respect, for that good, honest, straight-forward young British boy who does not easily understand that in French "a musical friend" is not necessarily _un ami a musique_, nor "to sit on the committee," _s'asseoir sur le comite_, unless the context indicates that it is the painful operation which is meant. Poor boy! For him a foreign language is only his own, with another vocabulary; and so, when he does a piece of translation, he carefully replaces on his paper each word of his English text by one of the equivalents that he finds for it in his dictionary, rarely failing to choose the wrong one, as I have already said. Now comes _que_. Shall he put the subjunctive or the indicative? He has learnt his grammar: he could, if occasion required, recite the rules that apply to the employment of the terrible subjunctive mood. He has even, once or twice in his life, written an exercise on the subject, and as it was headed "Exercise on the Subjunctive Mood," he went through it with calm confidence, putting all the verbs in the subjunctive, including those that it would have been advisable to put in the indicative. This done, he was not supposed to commit any more mistakes on this important point of grammar. He might as well be expected to be an experienced swimmer after once reading Captain Webb's "Art of Swimming," and going through the various evolutions indicated in the pamphlet, _a sec_ on the floor of his papa's parlor.

I admit that the French teacher of a public school ought to be a good philologist to make his lessons attractive to the students of the upper forms, and insure their success under examination; I admit that he should know English thoroughly, to be able to explain to them the delicacies of the French language, and maintain good discipline in his classes; I admit that he should be able to teach grammar, philology, history, literature; but I maintain that he ought never to lose sight of the most important object of the study of a living language,--the putting of it into practice; he should, above all things, and by all means, aim at making his pupils speak French. It is not enough that he should speak to them in French, even in the upper forms, where he would be perfectly understood: understanding a language and speaking it are two very different things. Neither will he attain his end by means of dull manuals of imaginary conversations with the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker; these will, at most, be useful in helping a foreigner to ask for what he wants at a _table d'hote_. You will not get grown-up, intelligent, and well-educated boys to come out of their shells, unless you make it worth their while. Now, Englishmen, like Americans, love argument, very often for argument's sake, and every school-boy, in England as in America, is a member of some society or committee, and at its meetings tries his wings, discusses, harangues, and prepares himself for that great parliamentary life, which is the strength of the nation.

Then, I ask, why not turn this love of discussion to account?

Start a French debating society in every school, and you will teach your generation to speak French. Such a proposition may sound bold, but it has been tried in several public schools, and has proved a complete success.

What cannot a teacher do that has succeeded in winning the esteem and affection of his pupils? First, make them respect you, then gain their hearts, and you will lead the young by a thread.

Take twenty or thirty boys, old enough to appreciate the interest you feel in them, and say to them, "My young friends, let us arrange to meet once a week, and see if we cannot speak French together. We will chat about any thing you like: politics even. Do not be afraid to open your lips, it is only _la premiere phrase qui coute_. I am neither a Pecksniff nor a pedant, a dotard nor a wet blanket; in your company, I feel as young as the youngest among you. Do not imagine that I shall bring you up for the slightest error of pronunciation you make. I remember the time when I murdered your language, and I should be sorry to cast the first stone at you. At first I shall only correct your glaring mistakes; by degrees, you will make fewer and fewer, although, alas! you will very likely always make some. What does it matter? I guarantee that in a few months you will be able to understand all that is said to you in French, and express intelligibly in the same language any idea that may pass through your brain."

These little French parliaments work admirably; the earliest were started in two or three English schools four or five years ago. Each has its president--the head French teacher of the school, its honorary and assistant secretaries, and, if you please, its treasurer, who supplies the members with two or three good French papers, and, when the finances of the society permit, provides the means of giving a _soiree litteraire_. I have seen the minute-book of one of these interesting associations. Since its formation, this particular debating society has altered the whole map of Europe, greatly to the advantage of the United Kingdom. The young debaters have upset any number of governments, at home and abroad, done away with women's rights, and declared, by a crushing majority, that ladies who can make good puddings are far more useful members of society than those who can make good speeches. Young British boys have very strong sentiments against women's rights. In literature, the respective merits of the Classicists and the Romanticists have been discussed, and the "three unities" declared absurd and tyrannical by these young champions of freedom.

The speakers are not allowed to read their speeches, but may use notes for reference, and I notice that speakers, who at first only ventured short remarks, soon grew bold enough to hold forth for ten minutes at a time. In many instances, the president has had to adjourn a debate to the next meeting, on account of the number of orators wishing to take part in it. These minutes, written in very good French indeed, do great credit to the young secretary who enters them. I have myself been present at meetings of these societies, and I assure you that if you could see these young fellows rise from their seats, and, bowing respectfully to the president, say to him: "_Monsieur le President, je demande la parole_," you would agree with me that, so far as good order, perfect courtesy, and unlimited respect for opposite views are concerned, these small gatherings would compare favorably with the meetings of honorables and even right-honorables that are held at the Capitol, the Westminster Palace, and the _Palais Bourbon_.

It is clear to my mind that, by such means, English boys can be made to speak French in the most interesting manner, and the one best suited to their taste. I firmly believe that if the great schools, public or private, were to start similar societies, that if all the young men knowing a little French were to form in their districts, such associations under the leadership of able and cheerful Frenchmen, England, or America for that matter, would in a few years, have a generation of French-speaking men.

I have always been at a loss to understand how boys who have been studying a language for nine or ten years should leave school perfectly unable to converse intelligibly in that language for five minutes together. It seems nothing short of scandalous.

Yet the reason is not far to be found. In England, at any rate, modern languages are taught like dead languages: they are taught through the eyes, whereas they should be taught through the ears and mouth.

The French debating society seems to me the best mode of solving the difficulty. I have often given this piece of advice to John Bull, and I myself founded a successful French debating society in England. Let Jonathan forgive my presumption if I avail myself of his kind and generous hospitality to give him the same advice.

XIX.

ENGLISH AND FRENCH SCHOOLBOYS.--THEIR CHARACTERISTICS.--THE QUALITIES OF THE ENGLISH SCHOOL-BOY.--WHAT IS REQUIRED OF A MASTER TO WIN.

I have often been asked the question, "Are English boys better or worse than French ones?"

Well, I believe the _genus_ boy to be pretty much the same all the world over. Their characteristics do not show in the same way, because educational systems are different.

Both English and French boys are particularly keen in finding out the peculiarities of a master, and taking his measure.

They are both inclined to bestow their affection and respect on the man who is possessed of moral and intellectual power; it is in their nature to love and respect what is powerful, lofty, and good.

Boys are what masters make them.

Both English and French boys are lazy if you give them a chance; both are industrious if you give them inducements to work. They will not come out of their shells unless you make it worth their while.

Both are as fond of holidays as any school-master alive.

* * * * *

French boys are more united among themselves, because their life would be intolerable if close friendship did not spring up between them, and help them to endure a secluded time of hardship and privations.

English boys are prouder, because they are freer. Their pride is born of liberty itself.

The former work more, the latter play more.

But comparisons are odious, especially when made between characters studied under such different circumstances.

* * * * *

What I can affirm is that a Frenchman need not fear that English boys (such as I have known at any rate) will take advantage of his shortcomings as regards his pronunciation of the English language to make his life uncomfortable. I have always found English boys charitable and generous.

A Frenchman will experience no difficulty in getting on with English schoolboys if his character wins their respect, and his kindness their affection; if he sympathizes with them in their difficulties; if he deals with them firmly, but always in a spirit of fair play, truth, and justice; if he is

"To their faults a little blind,
And to their virtues very kind."

THE END.

_Appendix._

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a joke."--(MARK TWAIN.)

PAGE.

7. _Appartement de garcon_, "bachelor's quarters," not "waiter's
apartment."

12. _Fors l'honneur_, "except honor" (a phrase used by Francis I. of France, when he announced his defeat at Pavia to his mother).

13. _Gare du Nord_, "Great Northern Railway Terminus," in Paris (celebrated for its Cloak Room, where, on his arrival from England, John Bull deposits his baggage of superfluous virtue).

16. _Tres bien, Monsieur_, "Very well, sir." (I owe to the reader many apologies for translating such an _idiomatic_ phrase as this.)

19. _Qui frise ses cheveux et la cinquantaine_, literally, "Who curls her hair and fifty summers." (The word _friser_ means both "to curl" and "to border on." I hope the reader will see the joke.)

21. _Recherche_, "refined."

22. _Planche_, "a plank."

33. _Allons me voila sauve_, "Now I am saved."

41. _Migraine_, "Sick headache," an indisposition to which French ladies are subject, when they are reading a novel and do not wish to be disturbed by callers.

48. _Elle se retira...._ "She retired to her room and prepared for bed. But who could sleep? Sleep!"

48. _Celui qui ecrit_, literally "He who writes."

49. _Poitrine_, "chest" (part of the body). _Calecons_ (unmentionables).

49. _Il feutra, il gaucha_, formed from the nouns _feutre_ ("felt," material) and _gauche_ ("left,"contrary of "right").

51. "Look at Pierrot hanging
Because he did not restore the book;
If the book he had restored
Pierrot wouldn't have been hanged."

FAC-SIMILE OF JOHN BULL, JUNIOR'S, EXERCISE.

1. Europe is a part of the world.
2. Asia is a part of the world.
3. Africa is a part of the world.
4. America is a part of the world.
5. My father is in France.
6. My cousin is in Germany.
7. Your brother is in Dresden.
8. Where is thy sister? She is in Paris.

54. _Egal_, "Equal."

55. _Savoir_, "to know." The future is _je saurai_.

57. _Vouloir_, "to want." The future is _je voudrai_.

63. _Je serai_, "I shall be."
_Je serais_, "I should be."

73. The feminine words respectively mean "trumpet," "medicine," "navy," "sculpture," whereas the masculine names respectively mean "trumpeter," "doctor," "sailor," "sculptor." This is an old examination question, a time-honored chestnut of the University of London.

73. _Restait cette redoutable infanterie...._ "There remained the redoubtable infantry of the Spanish army, whose big close battalions, like so many towers, but towers that could repair their own gaps, stood unshaken in the awful din of battle and fired from all parts" (with my apologies to the shade of Bossuet).

74. _La fille de feu...._ "The daughter of my good and esteemed deceased cousin is always welcome."

74. _Mon frere...._ "My brother is wrong and my sister is right."

74. _Elle partit...._ "She left the following morning."

75. _Diable!..._ "Good heavens! the old man is capricious!"

76. _Je laisse Renaud...._ "I leave Renaud in the gardens of Armida." (The worthy boy took _Renaud_ for _Renard_, a fox--that's near enough.)

76. _Chaque age a ses plaisirs._ "Each age has its pleasures."

77. _Les exploits d'Hercule...._ "The exploits of Hercules are mere play compared to."

77. _Monsieur, ne vous retournez pas._ "Sir, do not look round."

78. _Il raccommodait...._ "He mended old shoes."

78. _Baissant les yeux_, "Casting down her eyes."

84. _Dimanche_, "Sunday."

84. _Manche_, near enough to _manger_ (to eat) for Johnny.

84. _Cordon bleu_, skilful cook. (Teetotalers in England wear blue ribbons, hence the boy's confusion.)

89. _Baccalaureat-es-sciences_, degree of B.Sc.

92. _Avec de belles dents...._ "With fine teeth never was a woman ugly."

93. _Arriver, naitre, venir, sortir, partir_, "to arrive," "to be born," "to come," "to go out," "to set out."

120. _Savate_, boxing and kicking; _canne_, cane (fencing expression).

135. _Avez-vous du mal?_ "Are you hurt?" The Englishman understands _Avez-vous deux malles?_ "Have you two trunks?"

135. _Garcon, j'ai faim_, "Waiter, I'm hungry."

138. _Ses amis_, "his friends." _Seize amis_, "sixteen friends."

146. _Quelle heure est-il?_ "What o'clock is it?" _Comment vous portez-vous?_ "How do you do?"

152. _Qu'il n'est pas necessaire...._ "That it is not necessary to know any thing of a subject to speak on it."

153. _Lycee_, "French public school."

159. _Un ami a musique_ would mean a friend who could give off a tune by being pressed _upon_.

163. _Monsieur le President, je demande la parole_, "Mr. President, I ask for the floor."

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ENGLISH AS SHE IS TAUGHT.

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