The sooner the Welsh
language disappears as an instrument of the practical, political,
social life of Wales, the better; the better for England, the better
for Wales itself. Traders and tourists do excellent service by
pushing the English wedge farther and farther into the heart of the
principality; Ministers of Education, by hammering it harder and
harder into the elementary schools. Nor, perhaps, can one have much
sympathy with the literary cultivation of Welsh as an instrument of
living literature; and in this respect Eisteddfods encourage, I
think, a fantastic and mischief-working delusion.
For all serious purposes in modern literature (and trifling purposes
in it who would care to encourage?) the language of a Welshman is and
must be English; if an Eisteddfod author has anything to say about
punctuality or about the march of Havelock, he had much better say it
in English; or rather, perhaps, what he has to say on these subjects
may as well be said in Welsh, but the moment he has anything of real
importance to say, anything the world will the least care to hear, he
must speak English. Dilettanteism might possibly do much harm here,
might mislead and waste and bring to nought a genuine talent. For
all modern purposes, I repeat, let us all as soon as possible be one
people; let the Welshman speak English, and, if he is an author, let
him write English.
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