During April 1893 the Glasgow Herald newspaper published an article on the history of the Scots language by George Ayre-Todd, called ‘Braid Scots’. It immediately caused something of a stir and a series of letters were published on the subject. Probably the most consistent opinion that came out of the letters was the feeling that something should really be done to support and protect Scots, but perhaps the most progressive, and insightful (and thoroughly modern-sounding) advice came not from a Scot, but from an Englishmen named W. K. Dowie (dowie, incidentally, means ‘sad’ in Scots).  On 15 May 1893 Dowie addressed a letter to the Glasgow Herald from his home in Camelon, near Falkirk, which was published as follows:

SIR, Although an Englishman, my 12 years’ sojourn in this country has given me an interest in anything concerning the manners and customs of the people, and I have therefore attentively read the correspondence on the above subject. I agree with those who have expressed regret that the noble language should be dying out – though they one and all express their regrets in the most irreproachable English. But how is the Scots language to be preserved? Simply by teaching it in the schools, so that the rising generation may speak and write it with facility. Being a language, it has, of course, a grammar, and a dictionary. Let these replace the Lindlay Murray and the Webster now used. Instead of dictating to Scots children such a sentence as: - “He was longing to go down the little stream to fish the next morning,” let the master or mistress dictate “he wis ettlin tae gang fishin’ in th’ burn th’ morn’s morn,” and instead of conjugating the verb “to ask,” “I ask, thou askest, he asks,” etc, let the lesson be “A’m speerin’, thou’rt speerin, he’s speerin.” Were this done the guid braid Scots tongue would be raised into the proud pre-eminence which its purity, its beauty, and its linguistic resources merit. In the course of a decade or so the Scottish people would be freed from the reproach – partly merited – that they have no language of their own, and are obliged to write and speak in English. Commercial correspondence would be written in Scots; the leaders in the papers, even the items of news, would be couched in that mellifluous tongue; and the baraguoin of the Saltmarket or Trongate would be no longer accepted by the Southern stranger as the language of the Scottish people. Surely this is end is worthy of attainment. The Scot abroad, though ever proud in his heart of his nationality, makes haste to drop the few lingering traces of his mother tongue, and to speak pure English. Why is this? The Frenchman endeavours to make himself understood, when on English soil, by the few words of that language which he can master; but he never forsakes his own tongue, and is only too pleased to return to its use. Not so the Scot. He drops his Scots phrases and pronunciation, never to resume them; and his children is taught that their father’s English is more genteel than the speech of their forefathers, and cultivate it in preference. I think were some such plan as that which I have suggested possible the future might even see Scots authors arise who would pen their essays, their treatises, or even their novels in the mellifluous language, which, as far as literature is concerned, is at present so poorly represented. I am, etc., W.K. Dowie.

Dowie’s letter anticipates our modern approach to re-establishing the place of Scots in the public domain. His suggested solution, of simply teaching the children in Scots, rather than replacing it in schools with English, was, in fact, normal before state inspection of schools commenced in 1845. By Dowie’s time, however, the teaching establishment in Scotland had become thoroughly Anglicised and had embarked on a misguided attempt to suppress Scots and replace it with English. As another commentator in this period once remarked, we pay the teachers to teach our children English, not to unlearn our native language. Dowie’s opinion, that if children were taught to read and write the language they spoke they would grow up to use the language in various areas of public life, is certainly true.  Although he does not make an explicit comment, Dowie’s letter clearly skirts around what was then (and still is) an issue that lies at the heart of Scottish cultural and political identity, evident in his comparison between Scots and French. To Mr Dowie the solution to supporting and encouraging the use of Scots was simple. His comment that those defending Scots do so “in the most irreproachable English” also sends a powerful message to any one who wishes to foster Scots: “tak tent or it’s tint (use it or lose it)”.