ing he cannot help postulating to himself, as an indispensable fiction, that his pupils are some clay or other to hear, to read, to speak, or to write, the language.
The intense conservatism in the matter of languages, the alacrity to prescribe languages on all sides, without inquiring whether they are likely to be turned to account, may be referred to various causes. For one thing, the remark may seem ungracious and invidious that many minds, not always of the highest force, are absorbed and intoxicated by languages. But apart from this they are, by comparison, easy to teach and easy to examine upon. Now, if there is any motive in education more powerful than another, it is ease in the work itself. We are all, without exception, copyists of that Irish celebrity who, when he came to a good bit of road, paced it to and fro a number of times before going forward on the rougher footing.
So far I may seem to be arguing against the teaching of language at all, or, at any rate, the languages expressively called dead. I am not, however, pressing this point further than as an illustration. I do not ask any one to give an opinion against classics as a subject of instruction; although, undoubtedly, if this opinion were prevalent, my principal task would be very much lightened. I have merely analyzed the utilities ascribed to the ancient and modern languages, with a view to settling their place in competitive examinations.
My thesis, then, is that languages are not a proper subject for competition with a view to professional appointments. The explanation falls under two heads:
In the first place, there are certain avocations where a foreign language must be known, because it has to be used in actual business. Such are the Indian spoken languages. Now, it is clear that in such cases the knowledge of the language, as being a sine qua non, must be made imperative. This, however, as I think, is not a case for competition, but for a sufficient pass. There is a certain pitch of attainment that is desirable even at first entering the service; no one should fall below this, and to rise much above it cannot matter a great deal. At all events, I think the measure should be absolute and not relative. I would not give a man merit in a competition because another man happens to be worse than himself in a matter that all must know; both the men may be absolutely bad.
It may be the case that certain languages are so admirably constructed and so full of beauties that to study them is a liberal education in itself. But this does not necessarily hold of every language that an official of the British Empire may happen to need. It does not apply to the Indian tongues, nor to Chinese, nor, I should suppose, to the Feejee dialects. The only human faculty that is tested and brought into play in these acquisitions is the commonest kind of memory exercised for a certain time. The value to the service of the man that can excel in spoken languages does not lie in his superior admin-
