John Bull, Junior Part 14

_Monsieur, ne vous retournez pas_, "Sir, do not return yourself."

But to return to John Bull, junior.

I pa.s.s young worthies who translate "_I have never read any thing by Moliere_" by "_Je n'ai pas jamais lit quelque chose par Moliere_," on the ground that "it is so in English." This "French" sentence was, by-the-bye, the first essay on Moliere I received at the hands of the English boys.

Some little fellows, trusting their sense of sight, have the objectionable habit of writing the translation of a text before looking at it, at all events before seeing it.

Result: "_Il raccommodait les vieux souliers_"--"_He recommended the old soldiers._"

A clever boy, whilst reading a comedy at first sight, translated "EGLANTINE (_baissant les yeux_)" by "EGLANTINE (_kissing his eyes_)."

You naughty boy!

I once read the following sound advice given in the preface of a French Translation book:

"HINTS ON TRANSLATING UNSEEN Pa.s.sAGES."

"1. Read the pa.s.sage carefully through, at least twice."

"2. Keep as closely as possible to the original in sense, but use English idiom boldly."

"3. Never write down nonsense."

Now, and whilst I think of it, why _unseen_?

It may be that I do not perceive the niceties of the English language, but this commonly used word, "unseen," never conveyed any meaning to my mind. Would not "unforeseen" be a better word? I would timidly suggest.

If the book in question succeeded in making boys carry out the foregoing suggestions, it would be worth its weight in gold.

As far as my experience goes, the only hint which I have known them follow is the one that tells them to use English idiom boldly.

A drawback to these hints is that they are given in the preface. Now, dear colleagues and _confreres_, which of you has ever known a school-boy read the preface of his book?

VII.

ENGLISH BOYS ON FRENCH ETYMOLOGIES.--WHY "SILENCE" IS THE ONLY FRENCH NOUN, ENDING IN "ENCE," THAT IS OF THE MASCULINE GENDER.--A VALUABLE SERVICE RENDERED BY THE AUTHOR TO HIS LAND OF ADOPTION.--LEARNED ETYMOLOGIES.--RETURN TO OLD PHILOLOGICAL METHODS.--REMARKABLE QUESTIONS.

--WRITTEN AND ORAL EXAMINATIONS.--A KIND EXAMINER.--HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE THE MOON TO FALL TO THE EARTH?--HOW MANY YARDS OF CLOTH IT TAKES TO COVER AN a.s.s.--I EXAMINE IN GERMAN.

French boys, and only of late, are made to go through a course of French philology during their last two years at school; but English school-boys, who are seldom taught to speak French, and who would find it just as difficult to make themselves understood in Paris as they would in Pekin, are made to study the "rudiments" of French philology, that is to say, the origin of words they are unable to put together so as to make French sentences of them.

I might take this opportunity for discussing whether English school-boys should not leave alone all this nonsense, and devote the little spare time they have to learning how to put French words together with a decent p.r.o.nunciation; but I have promised myself to discuss nothing in this little volume of personal recollections, and I will keep my word.

After all, what Englishmen want to be able to do is to write a letter in French, and to ask for a steak or a mutton-chop in a French restaurant, without having to low or bleat to make the waiter understand that it is beef or mutton they want.

I did not go to England to make reforms; I accept things as I see them, and I generally wait to give my advice until I am asked for it.

So French philology is taught. A hundred exercises, which I have under my eyes, show me the results of the philological teaching of French in England.

For once--now for once only, let me make a boast.

Small as I am, I have rendered a valuable service to the land of my adoption. Yes, a service to England, nothing short of that.

For over fifteen years, the French examiners in the University of London invariably every year asked the candidates for Matriculation the following question--I had almost said riddle:

"Which is the only French substantive ending in _ence_ that is of the masculine gender, and why?"

You may picture to yourself the unhappy candidates, scratching their heads, and going, in their minds, through the forty and some thousand words which make up the French vocabulary.

Those only who were "in the know" could answer that the famous word was _silence_, as it came from the Latin neuter noun _silentium_, the other French nouns ending in _ence_ (from Latin feminine nouns in _entia_) being feminine.

"Well," I said one day to the examiner, an eminent _confrere_ and friend, "don't you think you make the candidates waste a good deal of their valuable time, and that it would be better to ask them the question (if you must ask it) in a straightforward manner?"

He thought I was right, and for two years more the question was asked again, but in the following improved manner:

"Explain why _silence_ is the only French noun, ending in _ence_, that is of the masculine gender."

This was sensible, and I hoped the examiner would for a long time to come be in smooth water.

The G.o.ds willed it otherwise.

One morning he came to me in a great state of excitement.

"I am furious!" he said. "I believe one of the candidates has been laughing at me."

"You don't say so!" I remarked.

"I believe so," he continued, whilst untying a bundle of papers. "Now look at this," he cried, handing me a copy; "have you ever seen such impudence?"

I looked, but could make nothing out of it.

"What's the matter?" I inquired.

"Well, I asked the candidates the question about the gender of _silence_."

"I know, the famous question, eh?"

"Never mind that. See the answer one of them gives me," and he pointed it out to me. It ran thus:

"_Silence_ is the only French noun, ending in _ence_, that is masculine, because it is the only thing women can not keep."