The Man Who Pleases and the Woman Who Charms by John A. Cone (books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📕

We should be as careful of our words as of our actions. CICERO.

An accomplishment, in its accepted meaning, is "something acquired which perfects or makes complete; an attainment which tends to equip in character, manner, or person, and which gives pleasure to others."

Surely, then, the man or woman who desires to please cannot possess too many accomplishments; and, accepting the definition just given, is there any other accomplishment of greater importance than facility in speaking and writing one's native language with ease and with elegance? Is there any other single test of culture so conclusive as this? Is it not the matter, and, particularly, the method of one's speech more than anything else which impresses the person whom we meet for the first time, either favorably or unfavorably in regard to our acquirements? We may have but few opportunities during a lifetime to display our knowledge of geometry, algebra or astronomy; we may be for weeks in the company of other people without giving them an opportunity to suspect that we possess any knowledge of Latin or Greek, but as long as we live, and every day we live, we are giving evidences of facility or awkwardness in the use of our mother tongue.

How much time is wasted in practicing upon unresponsive musical instruments--unresponsive because not touched by sympathetic fingers! How much time is spent in acquiring a slight knowledge of French and German, which results, generally, in an ability to use a few simple phrases, and to translate easy sentences with the aid of a dictionary! How many young women, with no artistic ability whatever, spend weeks and months under the instruction of teachers in vain attempts to produce something in oil or in water-color worthy to be called a picture! How much more to the advantage of these young women would it be if a part of this time were spent in acquiring a better understanding of the use of English!

The writer once knew a girl who, after playing a selection upon the piano, left the room and burst into tears because she had been guilty of a slight blunder in her execution--a blunder not noticed by two of the twenty persons assembled in the parlor. This same girl, however, exhibited, habitually, a carelessness in pronunciation, and an ignorance of English grammar of which she should have been heartily ashamed, and which caused far more annoyance to her friends than her blunders in music.

Boys and girls should be trained to feel that it is as discreditable to them to confound the parts of speech in conversation, as it is to make discords in music, or to finish a picture out of drawing, or to be guilty of some inadvertence of manner. They should be made to feel that proficiency in music, French, German, or painting, or any other accomplishment, so-called, will not compensate for slovenliness of diction.

In addressing a girl's school, Bishop Huntington once said: "Probably there is not an instrument in common use, from a pencil to a piano, which is used so imperfectly as language. If you will let me be plain, I suspect that it would be safe to offer a gold medal as a prize to any young lady here who will not, before to-morrow night, utter some sentence that cannot be parsed; will put no singulars and plurals in forbidden connections; will drop no particles, double no negatives, mix no metaphors, tangle no parentheses; begin no statement two or three times over without finishing it; and not once construct a proposition after this manner:

"When a person talks like that, they ought to be ashamed of it.'"

These are frank statements to address to a class of young ladies; but the Bishop's implication would hold with equal truth not only in the case in point, but also with a large number of the high schools, seminaries and colleges of this country. Surely such a charge against the other practical branches of study could not be made and sustained.

When James Russell Lowell said: "We are the most common-schooled and the least educated people in the world," he might have added that the statement was especially applicable to our habits of using or abusing our mother tongue.

This general indifference to good English is not, in most instances, the result of a lack of knowledge, for time enough is devoted to the study of technical grammar in almost all schools, to enable the pupil to become thoroughly acquainted with the principles which govern the use of our language.

It is because many persons, not having acquired the habit of correct speech, do not think to apply the rules of grammar in conversation. Were children accustomed from infancy to hear only correct English, there would be but little need to memorize arbitrary rules of grammar, for they would, from habit, speak and write correctly. Thus it is that the children of educated parents are generally so easy and graceful in their conversation, contrasted with the children of the uneducated. Our language, like our manners, is caught from those with whom we associate.

Several other nations are far in advance of our own in the thoroughness with which their youth are drilled in the use of language.

In France, a knowledge of the French language, spoken and written, is regarded as of special importance. In all entrance examinations, or examinations for promotion or graduation, the pupil's knowledge of his native tongue is first determined; and no promotions are allowed, and no diplomas granted, if the student is notably deficient in this regard, even though his knowledge of the other required branches should prove to be all that could be desired. We have not so high a standard in the United States. It has been but a few years since a definite knowledge of English was added to the requirements for admission to American colleges, and even now it has not, in any of our educational institutions, the relative weight in determining examinations which French and German have in the systems of those countries. While great improvement has been made in teaching English, and while better methods are employed than formerly, it is still safe to say that in no other branch of study, pursued with equal diligence, are the results so unsatisfactory.

Surely in no other way do we so clearly show the degree of our culture and refinement as by our every-day conversation. Is it not important, then, that we devote our efforts seriously, and with infinite patience, if necessary, to mastering a matter so essential?

The selection of good English does not necessarily imply either a stilted monotony of speech, or a tiresome affectation. It is simply elegance and naturalness. There is no reason why any person, however humble his station in life, should not hope to speak his native language correctly. It is an accomplishment which is not expensive. In its acquirement one does not require high-priced teachers. It demands only care and attention. Be critical of yourself. Watch your sentences. Get your companions to correct your slips of the tongue. Say over correctly the troublesome sentence until the mistake becomes impossible. Listening to well educated persons and reading the best literature are both of great assistance in this direction, especially if we offer to both the sincere flattery of imitation. Our literature teems with masterpieces of style. To read them consistently is to imbibe a certain facility of diction.

There are many persons who, while they do not violate the rules of technical grammar, habitually indulge in slang, hyperbole, and in many "weeds of speech" which should be pulled up promptly and cast aside. A great many boys and girls, and even some older persons, imagine that the use of slang lends piquancy and force to their conversation. Slang is always an element of weakness. It is bad enough in a man, but in women it is far more questionable. It is not the expression of the refined. To the cultivated taste it is discordant.

Another fault prevalent among girls is the habit of hyperbole. Perfectly, awfully, nice, and splendid, are the four most overworked words, and awfully is the most abused of them all. It is strange, the hold this word has secured in the vocabulary of girls who, in almost all other respects, are considerate in their use of English. Persons are called awfully good, awfully bad, awfully clever, awfully stupid, awfully nice, awfully jolly and awfully kind. It is made to do duty on all occasions and under all circumstances, as though it were the only adverb admissible in good society. Among adjectives, splendid easily ranks as the most popular. To many, everything is splendid, whether it is a flower, a sunset, a dinner, a football game, a friend, a sermon, or a book. Then we are continually hearing that certain things are perfectly splendid, perfectly lovely, perfectly hateful, perfectly glorious, perfectly magnificent and perfectly sweet. How word-stricken society would do without these expressions it is difficult to determine, yet certain it is that the woman who deals recklessly in superlatives demonstrates forthwith that her judgment is dominated by her impulses, that her opinions are of doubtful reliability, and her criticisms valueless.

In a recent number of one of the popular magazines Prof. Brander Matthews has an article on the prevailing indifference in regard to the proper use of words. The points which he emphasizes are these:

The gentleman is never indifferent, never reckless in his language. The sloven in speech is quite as offensive as a sloven in manner and dress. The neat turning of a phrase is as agreeable to the ear as neatness of person is to the refined taste. A man should choose his words at least as carefully as he chooses his clothing; even a hint of the dandy is not objectionable, if it be but a hint. It is even better to go to the extreme of fastidiousness than to indulge the opposite extreme of negligence.

The art of writing letters is but another phase of the same matter. Indeed it is but conversation carried on with the pen, when distance or circumstances prevent the easier method of exchanging ideas by spoken words. It is an art which should be faithfully cultivated by those who desire to please. In social life, in business, in almost every other circumstance of life, we find our pen called into requisition. Yet while it is an almost indispensable accomplishment, it is one which is pitifully neglected. The art of letter-writing is becoming obsolete; that is, the art of writing such letters as enriched the epistolary literature of a former generation. This is unfortunate, as there is nothing that will so stimulate thought, and bring into activity, practical, every-day niceties of phrase as the exercise of this art. Constant drill in letter-writing will tend to take from one's vocabulary words which have no place there, and will accomplish quite as much as any other means to broaden, beautify, and to refine the language at our command, as well as to train the mind to exact habits of thinking. A further important consideration is the charm which