Save the cricket on the hearth
are lines found in _Il Penseroso_. So also _great_ once had often the
first sound here given to the digraph, as if it were spelled _greet_.
Both this sound as well as the one it now receives were so equally
authorized in the eighteenth century that Dr. Johnson triumphantly
cited the fact as a convincing proof of the impossibility of making a
satisfactory pronouncing dictionary, just as we are now told that we
cannot have a phonetic orthography because men pronounce the same word
in different ways.
The digraph _ee_ having already been considered, we pass on to _ei_.
Its most frequent sound is that heard in such words as _rein_, _veil_,
and _neighbor_. But it has also the sound of “long _e_” in _conceit_,
_seize_, _ceiling_, and a few others. In _heir_ and _heiress_ and
_their_ it has the sound of _a_ in _fare_. In _height_ and _sleight_
it has the sound of “long _i_.” In _heifer_ and _nonpareil_ it has
the sound of short _e_. The allied digraph _ey_ has no such range of
sounds. In accented syllables it represents only the first one given to
_ei_, as can be seen in _they_, _grey_, and _survey_. _Key_, with the
sound of “long _e_,” seems to be the solitary exception.
It is already plainly apparent that there is nothing in the character
of our present spelling to fit it to serve as a guide to pronunciation,
the very office for which spelling was created. But its worthlessness
in this respect, with the consequent uncertainty and anxiety attending
the use of it, forms in the case of two words containing the digraph
_ei_, one of the most amusing episodes in the history of English
orthoepy. In modern times their pronunciation has given rise to
controversy and heart-burnings as bitter as the matter itself is
unimportant. These words are _either_ and _neither_. Were they to
adopt the most common pronunciation of the digraph they would have
the sound heard in such words as _eight_, _vein_, and _feint_. This,
in truth, they once had. To indicate that fact they have occasionally
been written _ayther_ and _nayther_. But this pronunciation, outside
of Ireland at least, had largely disappeared by the latter part of
the eighteenth century. So far as many orthoepists were concerned, it
was ignored entirely. Those who mentioned it often accorded it scant
favor. The affections of lexicographers were long divided between the
sounds heard in _receive_ and _deceit_, and that heard in _height_ and
_sleight_. For the former there was a very marked preference. Most
of them did not even admit the existence of the “long _i_” sound;
those who did, gave it generally a grudging recognition. The various
pronunciations prevailing in the latter part of the eighteenth century
were specified by Nares in his _Elements of Orthoepy_. “_Either_ and
_neither_,” he wrote, “are spoken by some with the sound of long _i_.
I have heard even that of long _a_ given to them; but as the regular
way is also in use, I think it is preferable. These differences seem
to have arisen from ignorance of the regular sound of _ei_.” As
the regular sound of _ei_, if any one of them is entitled to that
designation, is heard in such words as _skein_ and _freight_, one gets
the impression that Nares himself was ignorant of what it was.
Walker, the orthoepic lawgiver of our fathers, distinctly preferred
the “long _e_” sound of _either_ and _neither_. Both the practice of
Garrick and analogy led him to maintain that they should be pronounced
as if ryming “with breather, one who breathes.” He was compelled,
however, to admit that the “long _i_” sound was heard so frequently
that it was hardly possible in insist exclusively upon the other. He
did the best he could, nevertheless, to ignore it and thereby banish
it. While in the introduction to his dictionary he recognized the
existence of both sounds, in the body of his work that of “long _e_”
was the only one given. In this course he was followed by his reviser,
Smart, who succeeded to his name, and up to a certain degree to his
authority. Smart went even further than his predecessor. He was
apparently ignorant of the fact--he certainly ignored it--that any
other pronunciation of these words than that of “long _e_” was known to
the English people. But in spite of its defiance of analogy and of the
hostility of lexicographers, the sound of “long _i_” continued to make
its way. The fact has sometimes excited the indignation of orthoepists.
Yet it is hard to understand how any one who cherishes the vagaries
of English spelling should get into a state of excitement about the
vagaries of its pronunciation.
Neither the digraph _eo_ nor _eu_ is found often. The first, however,
improves fully the opportunity presented of making it difficult, if not
impossible, for the learner to get any idea of the pronunciation from
the spelling. In _people_ it has the sound of “long _e_”; in _leopard_
and _jeopard_ it has the sound of short _e_. In _yeoman_ again it has
the sound of long _o_. _Eu_ has practically the same sound as _ew_, as
can be exemplified in _feud_ and _few_. This last digraph, however,
represents the long sound of _u_ as well as that in which iotization
precedes the vowel. The difference in the pronunciation of _drew_ and
_dew_ will make manifest the contrast. There is always a tendency,
however, for the digraph to pass from the latter sound to the former
in a tongue in which there is nothing in the orthography to fix a
precise value upon the sign indicating both. “According to my v’oo,”
Oliver Wendell Holmes, in his _Elsie Venner_, has one of his characters
saying. “The unspeakable pronunciation of this word,” he adds in a
parenthesis, “is the touchstone of New England Brahminism.” In another
place in the same novel he still further enforces this point. “The
Doctor,” he wrote, among his other recommendations to the hero, says to
him, “you can pronounce the word _view_.” And yet in it the iotization
is plainly indicated by the vowel itself, while in such words as _hew_
and _few_ and _new_ there is nothing to fix definitely the sound.
Finally, it remains to say of this digraph that _shew_ and _strew_, two
verbs once spelled with it, have now become _show_ and _strow_, a form
more in accordance with their pronunciation. There is no particular
reason why _sew_ should not follow their example in substituting an _o_
for an _e_.
The digraph _ie_ is represented but by three vowel sounds. The most
common one is that of “long _e_”--seen, for example, in _chief_,
_grieve_, _believe_. But the sound of “long _i_” is heard in no small
number of words, especially monosyllabic words ending in _ie_, such as
_lie_, _die_, _tie_. In one instance it has the sound of short _e_.
Accordingly, in it the first vowel is distinctly superfluous. This
is the word _friend_. Its Anglo-Saxon original is _freónd_, just as
that of _fiend_ is _feónd_ or _fiónd_. One of the small jokes of the
opponents of spelling reform is a professed unwillingness “to knock the
eye out of a friend.” Disparaging remarks have been made about this
as an argument--as it seems to me, with no justification. Compared
with most of the objections brought against the efforts to wash the
dirty face of our orthography and make it decently presentable, this
particular argument against dropping the _i_ out of _friend_ is, as I
look at it, the strongest that has been or can be adduced. It reminds
one, indeed, of the objection the French writer made to the dropping of
the _h_ out of _rhinoceros_. The animal would lose his horn and become
nothing more than a sheep.
As a matter of linguistic history, however, it was not until late in
the sixteenth century that the _i_, though found long before, appeared
in the word _friend_ to an extent worth considering. There were several
ways in which it had been spelled previously. Of these _frend_ was
naturally a common one in days when the belief still lingered that the
office of orthography was to represent pronunciation and not to get as
far away from it as possible. Take, as an illustration, the treatise
entitled _The Schoolmaster_ of the great English scholar, Roger
Ascham. This appeared in 1570. In it the word _friend_ occurs just
twenty-five times. It is regularly spelled _frend_, with the exception
of one instance, where the intruding _i_ is found. So also _frendly_
is invariably the form of the adjective, and _frendship_ that of the
derivative noun.[22]
_Oa_, the next digraph in order, comes very near attaining the
distinction of being represented by a single sound. It occurs in a
fairly large number of words which can be represented by _oar_, _coat_,
_loaf_. It is saved, however, from the reproach of regularity by
having the sound of the _a_ of “ball” in the words _broad_, _abroad_,
and _groat_. _Oe_ is not so common, but, like its reverse _eo_, what
it lacks in number of words it makes up in variety of pronunciation.
In _foe_, _hoe_, and _toe_ it has the sound of long _o_. In _canoe_
and _shoe_ it has the sound of long _u_. In these instances it forms
the termination of words. Not so in _does_, where it has the sound we
call “short _u_.” The use of this digraph, like that of _ae_, has been
much restricted. For instance, the word we now spell _fetid_ was once
generally spelled _fœtid_. So, in truth, it continued to be till the
nineteenth century. The digraph, indeed, still lingers in the name of
the drug _asafœtida_, though in the instance of this word the long
sound has given way to the short. Not unlike, in some particulars, has
been the fortune of certain other terms. Take, for instance, the word
_economy_. Its remote Greek original began with _oi_, which in English,
as in Latin, appeared with the form _œ_, and sometimes erroneously _æ_.
For these was found occasionally the simple _e_. In the nineteenth
century this last displaced the two others, and gave to the first
syllable the present standard form. One of the results, however, of
this sort of substitution is that no one seems to be certain whether he
ought to pronounce the initial _e_ of _economic_ as long or short.
The ordinary sound of _oo_, the next digraph to be considered,
is that of long _u_, as we see it in _moon_, _soon_, _food_. But
there are about half a dozen words--throwing derivatives out of
consideration--in which it has the short sound of _u_. The difference
can be plainly observed by contrasting the pronunciation of the digraph
in the two words _mood_ and _wood_. Furthermore, _oo_ is to be credited
with two more sounds. One is that of the “short _u_” seen in _blood_
and _flood_. The other is the long sound of _o_ in _door_ and _floor_,
anciently spelled _dore_ and _flore_. _Dore_, for instance, can be
found in Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and even as late as Bunyan.
The digraph _ou_ is perhaps the banner sign for the frequency of its
occurrence and the variety of sounds it indicates. As it appears most
commonly, it is a genuine diphthong, as seen in such words as _loud_,
_sour_, _mouth_. But there is another large body of words in which
the sign has a sound essentially distinct. It can be observed in such
words as _group_, _youth_, _tour_. It gives one a peculiar idea of
the worth of English orthography as a guide to pronunciation that in
_thou_, the singular of the pronoun of the second person, _ou_ has one
value, and in its plural, _you_, it has a value altogether different.
The same observation is true of the possessives _our_ and _your_. There
are two or three words in which these two signs have had for a long
period a struggle for the ascendancy. Take the case of the substantive
_wound_. One gets the impression from poetry that in this word the
_ou_ constitutes a genuine diphthong. There is no question that it
rymes regularly with words containing the diphthongal sound here given.
Perhaps that was a necessity; it had to ryme with such or not ryme
at all. Still, the verse seems pretty surely to have represented the
common pronunciation. In the couplets of Pope, the poetic authority
of the eighteenth century, it is joined, for instance, with _bound_,
_found_, _ground_. Yet this same pronunciation was unequivocally
condemned by Walker at the end of the same century. “To _wound_,” he
writes, “is sometimes pronounced so as to rhyme with _found_; but this
is directly contrary to the best usage.”
This same uncertainty in the pronunciation of words in consequence of
the uncertainty of the pronunciation of the signs employed to represent
it may be further exemplified in the case of the noun _route_. Unlike
_wound_, which is a pure native word, this is of French extraction.
Following the analogy of most of the words so derived, it ought to have
the second sound given here to the digraph. Yet it not unfrequently
receives that of the first. Thus Walker graciously tells us that
it is often pronounced so as to ryme with _doubt_ “by respectable
speakers.” A far more interesting case is that of _pour_. The majority
of eighteenth century orthoepists--Johnston, Kenrick, Perry, Smith,
and Walker--pronounced the word so as to ryme with _power_. Spenser so
employed it. So did Pope, more than a century later. In the only two
instances he uses the word in his regular poetry at the end of a line
it has this sound. In his _Messiah_ occurs the following couplet:
Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour:
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower.
Walker, indeed, declared unreservedly that the best pronunciation
of it is “that similar to _power_.” Nares alone among eighteenth
century orthoepists seems to have upheld what is now the customary
pronunciation; yet even here the authority of some of the greatest of
modern poets has been occasionally cast in favor of the once accepted
sound. In his poem of _The Poet’s Mind_, Tennyson, for instance, writes:
Holy water will I pour
Into every spicy flower.
The digraph is far from being limited to the sounds heard respectively
in _thou_ and _you_. Another one is that of long _o_, found, for
illustration, in _dough_, _soul_, _mould_. There is still another
sound--that of the so-called “broad _a_”--which is heard in
_brought_, _ought_, and _wrought_. A fifth sound represented is that
of the regular short _u_ seen in _would_, _could_, and _should_. In
_cough_ and _trough_, as pronounced by many, there is a sixth sound
represented. In the course of its travels through the vowel sounds
the sign reaches that which we commonly call “short _u_.” There is
no small number of words in which this pronunciation of it appears.
_Country_, _journey_, _trouble_, _flourish_ may be given as examples.
_Ou_, in truth, has a remarkable record, not so much by the number of
sounds it represents--in this it is approached by two or three other
digraphs--but by the comparative largeness of the body of words in
which several of these different sounds appear. In the latter respect,
but not at all in the former, is it rivalled by the analogous _ow_.
This, common as it is, has but two sounds. The first and most frequent
is that heard in _brown_, _down_, and _vowel_; the second is the long
_o_ sound heard in such words as _blow_, _grow_, and _below_.
We now reach the digraphs of which the vowel _u_ is the first letter.
In a large number of words this has, if pronounced, the sound of _w_.
Especially is this true of syllables upon which no accent falls, or
at most a secondary accent. Nothing of this characteristic is seen in
the case of _uy_--in which the diphthongal sound of _i_ is heard in
the two words _buy_ and _guy_--but it is noticeable in the case of the
first four vowels. We can see it illustrated by the _ua_ of _assuage_,
_persuade_, _language_; by the _ue_ of _conquest_, _request_, and
_desuetude_; by the _ui_ of _anguish_, _languish_, _cuirass_; and by
the _uo_ of _quote_, _quota_, _quorum_. In this last case the _u_
strictly belongs with _q_. Of _ua_, the first of these digraphs, all
that needs to be said is that in certain words, such as _guard_ and
_guardian_, the _u_ is not pronounced at all. The same statement can be
made of _ue_ in _guess_, _guest_, _guerdon_. It is as useless as it is
silent. A plea has been put forth in justification of its existence on
the theory that it acts as a sort of servile instrument to protect the
hard sound of _g_. If this digraph were invariably so employed, it may
be conceded that there would be some sense in its existence. But he who
expects to find either sense or consistency in English orthography has
strayed beyond the limits of justifiable ignorance. There is a large
number of instances in which the consonant _g_ continues to exhibit
its hard sound when followed directly by _e_. _Get_ and _geese_ and
_gewgaw_ and _eager_ and _anger_ are a few of the words which could be
adduced to show that there has never been felt any necessity of the
presence of a protecting _u_ to indicate this pronunciation.
When at the end of a word the digraph _ue_ has often the sound of long
_u_, as in _blue_, _pursue_, _true_, and _rue_. But no small number
of instances occur in which it is entirely silent. This is especially
noticeable in words derived from the Greek which have the final
syllables _logue_ or _gogue_. _Catalogue_, _prologue_, _dialogue_,
_demagogue_, _pedagogue_, and _synagogue_ will serve as examples. But
the list of words in which this digraph is silent is far from being
confined to those with these two terminations. _Antique_, _oblique_,
_intrigue_, _colleague_, _fatigue_, _rogue_, and _plague_ will testify
to the uselessness of it as far as pronunciation is concerned, unless
it be maintained that it justifies its existence by indicating that
the preceding vowel has a long sound. If this be true, it ought not
to appear when the vowel is short. One sees so much of the results of
freak and wantonness in our spelling that it is permissible to cherish
the fancy that any intelligent principle has been sometime somewhere
at work in it, and that a feeling of this kind was the unconscious
motive that led to the adoption of _packet_ in place of _pacquet_
and of _lackey_ for _lacquey_; at any rate, of _risk_ for the once
prevalent _risque_ and of _check_ for _cheque_. But no such reason can
be assigned for the _ue_ of _tongue_. Its original was _tunge_. The
final _e_ ceased to be pronounced, and in course of time to be printed.
The insertion of a _u_ in the ending, after the fashion of the French
_langue_, was an act of combined ignorance and folly.
The digraph _ui_ follows in general the course of _ue_. As in the case
of the latter the _u_ was found unneeded in _guess_ and _guest_, so
it is equally unnecessary in _guide_ and _guile_. Here again a not
dissimilar sort of defence for it has been set up. Its retention, we
are told, is desirable in order to indicate the diphthongal sound
of _i_ in these words. The argument is as futile as in the case of
the preceding digraph. It illustrates forcibly the capabilities of
our spelling in the way of confusing pronunciation that the same
combination which is responsible for “long _i_” in _guide_ and _guile_
and _disguise_ is equally responsible for the short _i_ of _guilt_,
_guinea_, and _build_. With the statement that _ui_ has still another
sound in such words as _fruit_, _bruise_, and _recruit_, we leave the
consideration of the vowels and vowel sounds. But after the survey of
the subject which has just been made, no one is likely to pretend that
the pronunciation he hears of any one of these in a strange word will
furnish him the least surety that he will be able to reproduce its
authorized form in writing.
V
THE CONSONANTS
So much for the vowels. When we come to the consonants we are
approaching much more solid phonetic ground. In a general way, they
have remained faithful to the sounds they were created to indicate.
Not but that here also there is need of reform. This will be made
sufficiently manifest when details are given in the case of individual
letters. But the disorganization of the consonant-system is slight
compared with that of the vowel-system. There is, indeed, a fundamental
difference between the two. With the vowels conformity to any phonetic
law whatever is the exception and not the rule. With the consonants the
reverse is the case. Fortunate it is for the English-speaking race that
such is the fact. Were it otherwise, were there with the consonants
the same degree of irregularity which exists with the vowels, the
same degree of variableness in the representation of sounds, the
same widely prevalent indifference to analogy, knowledge of English
spelling would not be delayed, as it is now, for no more than two or
three years beyond the normal time of its acquisition; it would be the
work of a lifetime. Mastery of it, under existing conditions never
fully gained by some, would in such circumstances never be acquired by
anybody who learned anything else.
There is one pervading characteristic of the consonants which
differentiates their position in the orthography from that of the
vowels. Wherever they appear they have ordinarily the pronunciation
which is theirs by right. Ordinarily, not invariably. There are
exceptions that demand full discussion. Still, the usual way in which
consonants vary from the phonetic standard is not by being pronounced
differently but by not being pronounced at all. In some instances the
useless letter represents the derivation; in others it defies it.
They have been retained in the spelling, though never pronounced,
either because they are found in the primitive from which they came;
or they have been introduced into it under the influence of a false
analogy, or as a consequence of a false derivation. In any reform of
the orthography it may not be desirable in some cases to drop--at all
events at the outset--these now silent letters. It assuredly would
not be so wherever the tendency manifests itself to resume them in
pronunciation.
There are four of the consonants which practically do not vary from
phonetic law. They are never silent; they always indicate the precise
pronunciation which they purport to indicate. In the case of two of
them there is in each a single instance in which the rule does not
hold good. In the preposition _of_, _f_ has the sound of _v_. In the
matter of inflection the temptation to retain this letter in spite of
the change of sound has been successfully resisted. So we very properly
say _calves_ and _wolves_ instead of _calfs_ and _wolfs_, though
this course exhibits what some must feel to be a scandalous tendency
toward phonetic spelling. The other letter is _m_. The only exception
to its regular pronunciation is found in the word sometimes spelled
_comptroller_. Here it has the sound of _n_. But this has already
been pointed out as a well-known spurious form based upon a spurious
derivation. Its first syllable was supposed to come from the French
_compter_ and not from its real original, the Latin _contra_. The
affection for this corrupt form now felt by some is in curious contrast
with the attitude taken toward _count_ both as a verb and a noun. These
words were once often spelled like the corresponding French _compte_
and _compter_. There was justification for this. They all came from the
remote Latin original _computare_, in which the _p_ is found. Naturally
this particular spelling was especially prevalent in the sixteenth
century, when derivation ran rampant in the orthography; but the
practice extended much later. Had _compt_ continued in use and fastened
itself upon the language, we can imagine, but we cannot adequately
express, the indignation that would now be felt by many worthy people
at the proposal of any reformer to substitute for it _count_, and the
picture of ruin to the speech that would be drawn as a result of such a
wanton defiance of the derivation.
Let us now consider the unpronounced consonants. In the remote past
such letters when no longer wanted were regularly dropped. Now they are
as regularly retained. They are retained not because they are needed,
but because they have become familiar to the eye. They naturally fall
into three classes, according as they appear at the beginning, at the
end, or in the middle of a word. To the first class belong _g_ and _k_
when followed by _n_; _w_ followed by _ho_ or by _r_; and the aspirate
_h_. The failure to pronounce this last in certain words is too well
known to need here more than a reference. Elsewhere, too, I have given
an account of the gradual resumption of the sound of this letter.[23]
There are about half a dozen words in which an initial _g_ is silent.
Of these _gnaw_ and _gnat_ may be taken as examples. There are more
than double this number in which an initial _k_ before the same letter
_n_ is not heard. These are adequately represented, with the different
vowels following, by _knave_, _knee_, _knife_, _know_, and _knuckle_.
Still more frequently unsounded is an initial _w_. There are fully two
dozen and a half of words in which this letter is not pronounced. The
class finds satisfactory exemplification in _who_, _whole_, _wrap_,
_wrest_, _wrist_, _wrong_, and _wry_. In making up these numbers it
must be kept in mind that neither derivatives nor compounds are taken
into account. Were such to be included, the list would be largely
swelled.
In the cases just considered a letter once sounded has disappeared from
the spoken tongue. The fact of its disappearance from pronunciation
has not, however, induced men, as was once the practice, to discard
it from the written tongue. But there are instances in which the
initial consonant has never been heard at all in the utterance of
any speakers. The words to which they belong are of foreign origin.
They come to us with the foreign spelling. In many cases, or rather in
most, they are from the Greek. The conspicuous examples are the _c_ of
_czar_, now frequently spelled _tsar_ with the _t_ sounded, the _p_ of
_psalm_ and _pseudo_ and of several compounds in which the _psi_ of the
Hellenic alphabet furnishes the initial letter. The same uselessness
extends to _ph_--seen, for illustration, in the form _phthisic_--and
to the _p_ of words of Greek origin beginning with _pt_. It may be
remarked in passing that there is a curious blunder in the spelling
of the name of the bird called the _ptarmigan_. This is a pure Celtic
word, which begins with _t_. To it a _p_ was prefixed, possibly because
it was supposed to be of Greek origin.
The final consonants which are retained in the spelling but are not
heard in the pronunciation are _b_, _n_, _h_, _t_, _w_, and _x_.
The words possessing them may be divided into two classes. In one
the useless letter has a sort of claim to existence. It was there
originally. Let us begin with the unpronounced final _b_. The native
words ending in it are _climb_, _comb_, _dumb_, and _lamb_. They
are common to the various Teutonic languages. In all of these they
terminated originally with this consonant. To the list may be added
_plumb_, ‘perpendicular,’ coming remotely from the Latin _plumbum_,
‘lead.’ The spelling of these words underwent the usual variations
common before a fixed orthography had fastened itself upon the speech.
Naturally the unpronounced _b_ was not unfrequently dropped. This
was especially true of _climb_ and _dumb_. Take as an illustration
Spenser’s line, where he speaks of a castle-wall,
That was so high as foe might not it clime.[24]
But after the reign of Elizabeth the useless letter gradually but
firmly fixed its hold upon the spelling in the case of all these words.
In this respect English has had a different development from that of
other Teutonic tongues. Take modern German, for instance. For the word
corresponding to _climb_ it has replaced the original _chlimban_ by
_klimmen_; for _chamb_, ‘comb,’ it has substituted _kamm_; for _dumb_
in Old High German _tumb_, it has _dumm_; for _lamb_, in Old High
German _lamb_, it has _lamm_. The dropping of the final _b_ seems to
have wrought no observable harm to the language nor occasioned any
grief--at all events, any present grief--to its users.
Still, it may be maintained in justification of the present spelling
of these words that they are entitled to the final _b_ on the ground
of derivation. But no such plea can be put up in the case of those now
to be considered. These are _crumb_, _limb_, _numb_, and _thumb_. In
all of these the last letter is not only useless, but according to the
term one chooses to employ, it is either a blunder or a corruption. It
did not exist in the original. In truth, this unnecessary consonant
threatened at one time to fasten itself also upon the name of the
fruit called the _plum_. Especially was this noticeable in the best
literature of the eighteenth century. An attack of common sense, to
which the users of our orthography have been occasionally liable,
prevented this particular word from carrying about the burden of
the unpronounced _b_. In the case of most of the others it was not
until the sixteenth century that the practice began of appending the
unauthorized and unneeded letter. It took something of a struggle to
foist it upon these words; but not so much, indeed, as will be required
to loose the hold it has now gained over the hearts of thousands.
There are a few words, almost all of Latin derivation, in which a
final _n_ appears unsounded. _Kiln_ is perhaps the only one of English
extraction in which this peculiarity appears. In the case of most of
them the retention of the letter may be defended--at least it may be
palliated--on the ground that in the derivatives its pronunciation is
resumed. In _autumn_, _column_, _condemn_, _hymn_, and _limn_ the _n_
is silent, but it gives distinct evidence of its existence in words
like _autumnal_, _columnar_, _condemnation_, _hymnal_, _limner_, and
_solemnity_. In fact, this resumption of the sound has at times been
made to appear in other parts of the verbs containing this silent
letter. Especially has this been true of _hymning_ and _limning_, the
participles of _hymn_ and _limn_. It was a practice which much grieved
certain of the earlier orthoepists. They took the ground that analogy
forbade any sound not belonging to the principal verb itself to be
heard in any of its parts. The observation is only noticeable for
its revelation of the fact that it should enter into the head of any
advocate of the existing orthography to set up analogy as a convincing
reason for pronouncing any English word in a particular way.
Three of these final unpronounced letters do not need protracted
consideration. In the digraph _ow_, ending such words as _low_,
_flow_, and _sow_, the _w_ serves no particular use. According to some
it justifies its existence by indicating the quality of the preceding
vowel. Its value in this respect may be estimated by comparing the
pronunciation of _bow_, a missile weapon for discharging an arrow,
with _bow_, an inclination of the head, or _bow_, the fore-end of
a boat. The next letter _t_, when a final consonant, is invariably
heard, save in some imperfectly naturalized words. Of these _eclat_
and _billet-doux_ may be taken as examples. In England, however--not
in the United States--there is a single and singular survival of
the original French pronunciation in the case of a word received
into full citizenship. This is the noun _trait_, which came into the
language in the eighteenth century. Naturally its final letter was
at first not sounded. The tendency so to do, however, soon showed
itself. Lexicographers authorized it, indeed favored it; but for some
inexplicable reason Englishmen have never taken kindly to the complete
naturalization of the word. “The _t_,” said Walker, at the end of the
eighteenth century, “begins to be pronounced.” Had he been living at
the end of the nineteenth, he would have been justified in saying
precisely the same thing as regards England. It was beginning then; it
is beginning now; but it is only beginning.
A final _h_ is not pronounced when preceded by a vowel; when preceded
by the consonant _g_ it forms a digraph which will be considered later.
There are fewer than a dozen words of the former class in which it
appears. Among these are the interjections, _ah_, _eh_, and _oh_. Here
again, as in the case of _w_, the existence of the letter is defended
on the ground that it indicates the quality of the preceding vowel.
Yet for this purpose it can hardly be deemed a necessity. We use it in
the case of _ah_; but we get along very well without it in the case of
_ha_. This, too, was formerly sometimes spelled _hah_. _Oh_, likewise,
was once widely found in the very instances and the very senses where
we now use the single letter _O_. In two other words, _Messiah_ and
_hallelujah_, the _h_ may be retained because of the sacredness of
associations which have gathered about them. Yet the former word was
itself a sixteenth-century alteration of the previous _Messias_.
The unpronounced final _k_ belongs strictly to the class of double
letters of which it is not my purpose to treat. It invariably follows
_c_, and is really nothing but a duplicate of it. Still, as the sign
is a different representation of the same sound, it may be well
to bestow upon it a brief attention. At the end of the eighteenth
and the beginning of the nineteenth century it was dropped, after a
warm contest, from words of Latin derivation. But the reform did not
extend to those of native origin. In many cases a _k_ has been added
to words which originally ended in _c_. Especially was this true of
monosyllables. Thus the earliest form of _back_ was _bæc_, of _sack_
was _sac_, of _sick_ was _seoc_. This was the case not only with a good
many monosyllables to which a _k_ is now appended, but to a certain
extent with dissyllables also. The fact is best exemplified in the
words which have the ending _ock_. This sometimes represents the early
English diminutive _uc_, which became later _oc_ or _ok_. From the
point of view of derivation the modern spelling is distinctly improper.
Thus, for illustration, _bullock_, _haddock_, _hassock_, _hillock_,
and _mattock_ were in their earliest known forms _bulluc_, _haddoc_,
_hassuc_, _hilloc_, and _mattuc_. Several words not of native origin
have also adopted this ending. _Hammock_, from the Spanish _hamaca_,
itself of Carib origin, has conformed to it. It has supplied itself
with a final _k_. During the last century _havoc_ managed to get rid of
this consonant, with which it had been encumbered, without exciting
any special remark. But now that the uselessness of a letter has become
to many one of the chief recommendations of the spelling, the dropping
of an unnecessary _k_ from any of the other words of this class would
bring unspeakable anguish to thousands.
There are more consonants which are unpronounced in the middle of words
than at the beginning or the end. They are _b_, _c_, _l_, _g_, _h_,
_p_, _s_, _t_, _w_, and _z_. In the case of some of them--the two last,
for instance--the words in which the unpronounced letter appears are
very few. In _rendezvous_ _z_ is not sounded. It is the only instance
in which this consonant is not heard, and this is due to the fact that
it is not heard in its French original. Again, it is only in _answer_,
_sword_, and _two_ that the medial _w_ is silent. Unpronounced
consonants are more frequent in the case of the other letters, but,
after all, they are not numerous in themselves. Still, their presence
has its usual effect. In every instance it raises a stumbling-block in
the way of the proper pronunciation. Furthermore, it has in some cases
either hidden the right derivation entirely or given a wrong idea of it.
Take the example of the medial _b_ in _debt_ and _doubt_. These words,
coming originally from the French, were introduced into the language
with the spelling, _dette_, _det_, and _doute_, _dout_. So for a long
time they were spelled. Deference to the remote Latin original, which
sprang up with the revival of learning, introduced the unauthorized _b_
into the world. It has already been pointed out that this has given
an opportunity, which has been fully improved, for the devotees of
derivation to exhibit their usual inconsistency. When the presence of
unpronounced letters in the case of other words presents an obstacle
to correct pronunciation, then its retention is insisted upon as
essential to our knowledge of its immediate origin, to the purity of
the language itself, and to the happiness of those speaking it. But
no advocate of the existing orthography could be induced to part with
the _b_ of _debt_ and _doubt_, though its presence comes into direct
conflict with the views he is championing in the case of other words.
At times attempts were apparently made to pronounce the inserted _b_.
In the full Latinized form _debit_, which was early in use, there
was no difficulty. Indeed, it was a necessity. Not so in the form
_debt_. Yet it is evident from _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ that there were
men who sought to accomplish this feat. It is difficult to ascertain
whether speaker or hearer suffered more in consequence of this effort.
If unsuccessful, it was the speaker; if successful, the pain was
transferred to the hearer.
One curious blunder has been foisted upon our spelling by the desire
of men to go back to the Latin original of these words instead of
contenting themselves with the immediate French one. The insertion
of _b_ is bad enough in _redoubted_ and _redoubtable_. These came
to us from the latter tongue, and at first appeared in English in
the forms _redouted_ and _redoutable_. Later the classical influence
made itself felt and the _b_ was inserted. Palliation for it could
be pleaded on the ground that the letter belonged to the remote
original. But no defence of this sort could be of avail in the case of
the word denoting the military outwork called a _redoubt_. This has
not the slightest connection either in sense or origin with the two
adjectives just specified. It comes directly from the French _redout_
and remotely from the Latin _reductus_, ‘withdrawn,’ ‘retired,’ which
received at a later period the meaning of ‘a place of refuge.’ But it
was ignorantly supposed that it came from the same source as the verb
_redoubt_ and its past participle _redoubted_. So from the beginning
of the introduction of the word into the language, in the early part
of the seventeenth century, an unauthorized _b_ was made part of it.
It is now dear to the hearts of millions. What the blundering of one
age perpetrated the superstition of succeeding ages has invested with
peculiar sanctity.
The cases in which _c_ follows _s_ present several choice examples of
the vagaries which make English orthography a wonder to those who study
its history, and a perpetual joy and boast to those who in this matter
succeed in keeping the purity of their ignorance from being denied by
the slightest stain of knowledge. In the words _scene_, _scepter_, and
_sciatica_, coming directly or remotely from the Greek, the letter
represents an original _k_. So, useless as it is, its retention may
be defended on the ground that if it be not the same letter, it ought
to be, since it has the same value. The similar apology of respect
for derivation may be urged for the unpronounced _c_ of _science_,
_scintilla_, and _sciolist_. But in the case of _scent_, _scion_,
_scimitar_, _scissors_, and _scythe_, no such plea can be made. In
the instance of all these there is not the slightest justification
for the unnecessary _c_. _Scent_ comes from the Latin _sent-ire_, ‘to
perceive.’ Until the seventeenth century it was regularly spelled
_sent_. _Scythe_, from the Anglo-Saxon _sîthe_, once frequently and
now occasionally has its strictly correct etymological form. _Scion_
is from the old French _sion_. _Scimitar_ and _scissors_ have had a
wide variety of spellings during the course of their history. English
orthography has exhibited, as is not unusual, a perverse preference for
the ones which depart furthest from the pronunciation.
The instances where _g_ is silent within a word are those in which it
is found preceding _m_ or _n_. Its presence it owes, in most instances,
to derivation. Examples of it can be found in a number of words of
Greek extraction, of which _paradigm_, _diaphragm_, and _phlegm_ may
be given. With a following _n_ it can be represented by _campaign_,
_feign_, _sign_, and _impugn_. As has been the case with the final _n_
of certain words, so also the pronunciation of the _g_ is resumed in
the derivatives. That may be deemed by some a justification for its
retention in the primitive--at least, for the time being. With _sign_
we have _signify_, with _malign_ we have _malignity_, with _phlegm_ we
have _phlegmatic_. But the _g_ is a particularly ridiculous intruder in
the words _foreign_ and _sovereign_. The former is from the Old French
_forein_, which itself comes from the popular Latin _foraneus_, and
this in turn comes from the classical Latin _foras_, ‘out of doors.’
_Sovereign_ is a spelling just as bad. It comes from the Old French
_sovrain_, the Low Latin _superanus_, ‘supreme,’ which was formed upon
the preposition _super_, ‘above.’ The insertion of a _g_ was a blunder
for which our race has the sole responsibility.
There are two kinds of words in which _h_ is silent following an
initial letter. This is invariably true of words of Greek extraction
beginning with _rh_. _Rhetoric_, _rheumatic_, and _rhubarb_ may serve
as specimens. In these, as in those like them, the _h_ was wanting in
Old French. Consequently, it was at first wanting in English also.
But the deference to derivation which prevailed among the classically
educated after the revival of learning, raised havoc here with the
spelling as it did in so many other instances. The unpronounced _h_ was
inserted into all these words. This began in the sixteenth century. It
gradually established itself firmly in the orthography. There it has
remained ever since, though no one pretends that it serves any purpose
save that of indicating to the few, who do not need to be informed,
that the aspirate existed in the original from which these words were
derived. But even this pitiable reason cannot be pleaded in the case
of the noticeable words in which _h_ follows an initial _g_. These are
_ghastly_ and _aghast_, _ghost_, and _gherkin_. In not one of them,
except the last, did _h_ appear till many hundred years after the
words had been in existence. To not one of them does the useless letter
belong by right. Indeed, it was apparently not till the nineteenth
century that it was foisted into _gherkin_ as the regular spelling,
though it had cropped up before. There would be just as much sense in
spelling _German_ as _Gherman_, and _goat_ as _ghoat_, as there is in
the intrusion of the _h_ into the words just mentioned. This is equally
true of _anchor_.
There is, however, one further peculiarity about this letter. In the
spelling of certain words it follows _w_, in the pronunciation of
them it precedes it. But the fashion of suppressing the sound of the
aspirate in the combination _wh_ is very characteristic of the speech
of England, at least of some parts of it. The prevalence of this sort
of pronunciation which makes no distinction, for example, between
_where_ and _wear_, between _Whig_ and _wig_, between _while_ and
_wile_, was a subject of great, and it may be added, of justifiable
grief to the earlier orthoepists. Walker complained bitterly of the
extent of its use in London. He was anxious that men should “avoid this
feeble Cockney pronunciation which is so disagreeable to a correct
ear.” Fortunately for the speech this suppression of the aspirate has
not extended much beyond the southern half of England. In America
it rarely takes place. There is, therefore, every likelihood of this
pronunciation being eventually crushed, not so much because of its own
inherent viciousness as by the mere weight of numbers.
There is a limited body of words in which _l_ and _p_ are silent. The
former letter in such cases as _balm_ and _calm_, for instance, may
perhaps have been effective in preserving the sound of the preceding
vowel. The most signal example of its appearance, where it has no
justification for its existence, is in the word _could_. This takes
the place of the earlier and more correct _coude_, _coud_. The _l_
was introduced by a false analogy with _would_ and _should_. These
two last words, it may be added, at times dropped this letter, to
which etymologically they were entitled, out of deference to the
pronunciation, just as _could_, though not entitled to it, assumed it
in defiance of the pronunciation.
The most noticeable instances in which _p_ is not pronounced
are when it follows _m_ and is itself followed by _t_. _Empty_,
_tempt_, _prompt_, and _sumptuous_ will supply a sufficient number
of illustrations. In most of these cases the letter still appears
because it was in the original. In _empty_, however, it is a later
insertion. There are two or three sporadic instances in which a _p_ is
present but fails to be called upon for duty. Such are _raspberry_ and
_receipt_. In the first of these two _rasberry_ seems to have been for
a long time the preferred spelling. Unless there is a prospect that the
sound of the letter will be resumed in the pronunciation, there is no
apparent reason why we should not go back to the once more common form.
But _receipt_, with the allied _conceit_ and _deceit_, furnishes as
good an illustration as can well be offered of the vagaries of English
orthography, and of the system which has prevailed in and the sense
which has presided over its development. These three words all come
remotely from the three closely allied participial forms _receptus_,
_conceptus_, and _deceptus_. The earlier most common spelling of the
first was _receit_ or _receyt_. While the form with the inserted _p_
existed previously, it was not till the Elizabethan period that it
began to be much in evidence. Furthermore, it was not till the latter
part of the seventeenth century that the unnecessary letter established
itself in the unfortunate word. _Conceit_ and _deceit_ went through
what was in many respects the same experience. The forms _conceipt_ and
_deceipt_ were found not unfrequently. But in them the _p_ failed to
maintain itself. So words from a common Latin root have developed two
different ways of spelling, with not the slightest reason in the nature
of things why any distinction whatever should be made between them.
The silence of _s_ in some few words, such as _isle_, _aisle_, and
_island_, has already been mentioned. In _viscount_ it is also
suppressed, doubtless in deference to the French original. But in the
middle of words _t_ is far more frequently left unpronounced than _s_.
This is especially noticeable when it is followed by _le_ on the one
hand, as can be seen in _castle_, _wrestle_, _thistle_, _ostler_, and
_rustle_; on the other hand, when followed by _en_, as in _fasten_,
_hasten_, _listen_, and _moisten_. There are a few other words besides
those with these endings in which it is silent. Such are _Christmas_,
_chestnut_, _mortgage_, _bankruptcy_. That it should not be heard in
words of French origin like _billet-doux_ and _hautbois_ is not hard to
understand; they have never been fully naturalized.
This exhausts the list of simple consonants that are found in the
written language, but are not heard in the spoken. There remains,
however, a digraph which is encountered too frequently not to receive
brief mention. This is _gh_, both at the end and in the middle of
words. In these positions it once stood for something. It had,
therefore, originally a right to the place in which it now appears. But
the guttural sound it indicated disappeared long ago from the usage of
all of us. Even the knowledge that it had ever existed has disappeared
from the memory of most of us, if it was ever found there. Accordingly
it serves now no other purpose than to act as a sort of tombstone to
mark the place where lie the unsightly remains of a dead and forgotten
pronunciation. The useless digraph is still seen at the end of numerous
words of which _weigh_, _high_, and _dough_ may be taken as examples.
Again an unpronounced medial _gh_ is seen in _neighbor_ and a large
number of words ending in _ght_, such as _caught_, _height_, _fight_,
and _thought_. In many of these words the digraph was frequently
dropped in those earlier days when there was a perverse propensity
to make the spelling show some respect to the pronunciation. _High_,
for instance, often appeared in the forms _hye_, _hy_; _nigh_ in the
forms _nye_, _ny_. This is now all changed. The disposition to pander
to any sneaking desire to bring about a scandalous conformity between
orthography and orthoepy is steadily frowned upon by those who have
been good enough to take upon their shoulders the burden of preserving
what they are pleased to call the purity of the English language.
This survey of the subject, brief as it is, brings out distinctly the
superiority of the consonant system over the vowel, in the matter of
unpronounced letters. Far from perfect as is the former, it shines by
contrast with the latter. The useless consonant appears in but a few
words, where the useless vowel appears in scores. But when we pass on
to the cases in which the sign is represented by any but its legitimate
sound, the contrast between the two classes of letters becomes far
more noticeable. It is the superiority in this particular which
alone makes our present spelling endurable. Most of the consonants,
if pronounced at all, have in all cases one and the same sound. Any
possible acquisition of the speech in the term of a man’s natural life
has depended upon the fact that these members of the alphabet are in
general really phonetic. Their faithfulness to their legitimate sounds
stands in sharpest contrast to the almost hopeless disorganization
which has overtaken the vowels. In the case of some of the consonants
there is never any variation from their proper pronunciation. In the
case of others the exceptions to the regular practice are purely
sporadic. The _p_ of _cupboard_, for instance, has the sound of _b_,
the _j_ of _hallelujah_ has the sound of _y_. Even these exceptions
which have prevailed in the past there has been a tendency to reduce,
owing to the operation of agencies of which there will be occasion to
speak later.
This last statement needs modification in the case of one letter. In
modern times there has been a tendency to represent the sound of _t_
in the preterite and past participle by _d_, or, rather, _ed_. As
compared with the usage of the past, this practice has made a good deal
of headway. It is the substitution of a formal regularity of spelling
which appeals to the eye over its proper use to indicate the sound to
the ear. We have not yet got so far as to write _sleeped_ for _slept_
or _feeled_ for _felt_, but we have frequently _dwelled_ for _dwelt_
and _builded_ for _built_. This is all proper enough if the _d_ sound
is given to the ending by pronouncing the word, as is often done, as a
dissylable. But no reason can be pleaded for it if _t_ is heard as the
termination. In this matter we are far behind our fathers.
Take the usage of Spenser, as illustrated on this point in the first
canto of the first book of the _Faerie Queene_. This contains about
five hundred lines. In every case whenever a preterite or past
participle has the sound of _t_, it is spelled with _t_. In this one
canto--and it fairly represents all the others--can be found the
preterites _advaunst_, _approcht_, _chaunst_, _enhaunst_, _forst_,
_glaunst_, _grypt_, _knockt_, _lept_, _lookt_, _nurst_, _pusht_,
_y-rockt_, _stopt_, and _tost_. Along with these are to be seen as
past participles _accurst_, _enforst_, _mixt_, _past_, _promist_,
_stretcht_, _vanquisht_, and _wrapt_. Now, to a certain extent this is
an unfair illustration. No one can read the _Faerie Queene_ without
becoming aware that Spenser was a good deal of a spelling reformer.
Necessarily, he was largely dominated by the ignoble idea that
orthography should have a close connection with the pronunciation.
Still, though in certain particulars he took very advanced ground, he
only practiced on a large scale what on a small scale was followed by
very many of his contemporaries and immediate successors.
We pass on now to the consideration of the six sounds for which the
alphabet has no special sign whatever. Two of them are the surd and
sonant sounds, already considered, for which the digraph _th_ has
become the common representative. It may be right to add that this
same digraph is also equivalent in a few cases to the simple _t_,
as in _thyme_ and _Thames_. The four other sounds can be recognized
perhaps most easily in the _ch_ of _church_, the _ng_ of _bring_, the
_sh_ of _ship_, and the _s_ of _pleasure_. But here, as elsewhere in
our orthography, reigns the usual lawlessness. The signs here given
represent other sounds than those just specified. Take the case of
_ng_. Any one can detect at once the difference in the pronunciation
of this digraph by contrasting it as heard in _singer_ and as heard in
_finger_. Nor has _ch_ been limited to the sound indicated in _chair_,
_cheer_, _child_, _choose_, and _churn_. It has another, perhaps more
frequently denoted by _sh_ in the beginning, middle, and end of words,
as, for illustration, in _chaise_, _machine_, and _bench_. It has
likewise the sound of _k_ in many words, especially in those of Greek
origin, such as _character_, _mechanic_, _monarch_. The uncertainty
caused by this variety of pronunciation is particularly noticeable in
words in which _arch_ appears as the initial syllable. In _archangel_,
for instance, _ch_ has one pronunciation, in _archbishop_ it has
another. The difference between the two must therefore be painfully
learned. There is, furthermore, the sporadic example of _choir_, in
which _ch_ has the sound of _kw_, ordinarily represented by _qu_. But
_choir_ was a late seventeenth-century importation into the language.
Though to some extent it has replaced the original form _quire_, it has
invariably retained the pronunciation of that word.
Finally, there are the two sounds specified above, as denoted by the
_s_ of _pleasure_ and the _sh_ of _ship_. The former has a respectable
number of signs to indicate it. Besides the _s_ found in such words
as _measure_, _usury_, _enclosure_, it is represented by _si_, as
seen in _decision_, _evasion_, _occasion_; by _z_, as in _azure_,
_razure_, _seizure_; by _zi_, as in _glazier_, _grazier_, _vizier_. It
is, however, the second of these sounds that has the greatest variety
of signs to denote it. In this respect it rivals many of the vowels
or vowel combinations, and surpasses some of them. It is heard in
the _ce_ of _ocean_, and in particular in no small number of words
mainly scientific, with the ending _aceous_, such as _cretaceous_
and _cetaceous_; in the _ci_ of words like _social_, _gracious_,
_suspicion_; in the _s_ of _sure_, _sugar_, _censure_, _nauseate_;
in the _t_ of _satiate_, _expatiate_, _substantiate_; in the _ti_ of
_martial_, _patient_, _nation_, and the vast number of words which
have the termination _tion_; in _xi_ in _anxious_, _obnoxious_,
_complexion_; in _sci_ in _conscience_, _prescience_; in _si_, as seen
in no small number of words, such as _mansion_, _vision_, _explosion_.
Finally, to illustrate the confusion which in the case of these signs
has been still further confounded, we may instance the _ci_ of _social_
with the pronunciation just indicated, and the _ci_ of the related word
_society_ with a pronunciation entirely different. A precisely similar
observation could be made of _ti_ in the case of the words _satiate_
and _satiety_.
Enough has certainly now been said to put beyond question the fact
of the irrepressible conflict which goes on in our language between
orthography and orthoepy, and to make clear its nature. The treatment
of the subject has, indeed, been far from complete. Nothing whatever
has been said on the large subject of the representation of sounds
in the unaccented syllables. No account has been given of the usage
of some of the letters or combinations of letters. In particular, in
the matter of doubling the letters both in accented and unaccented
syllables, contradictions and incongruities abound with us on a scale
which ought to bring peculiar happiness to those devotees of the
present orthography who believe that the worse a language is spelled
the more distinctly it is to its credit. Still, of this characteristic
there has been no consideration. Furthermore, page after page could
have been taken up with illustrative examples of the anarchy of all
sorts which reigns in every nook and corner of our spelling. We write,
for instance, _knowledge_ with a _d_; but the place with the same
terminating syllable where we go presumably to acquire it, which we
call a _college_, we are careful to write without a _d_. In the past
one finds at times the forms _knowlege_ and _colledge_. It is nothing
but an accident of usage that we are not employing them now instead of
the ones we have adopted.
It would be easy to go on multiplying examples of these
inconsistencies. But though all that could be said is far from having
been said, surely enough has been given to prove beyond possibility
of denial the existence of the chaotic condition which prevails.
Furthermore, while the subject has been by no means exhausted, the
same statement cannot safely be made of the patience of the reader,
to say nothing of that of the writer. If any one of the former body
finds it tedious to wade through the account of the situation which
has been given in the preceding pages, let him bear in mind how much
more tedious it was for the author to prepare it. If he finds it
exceedingly tedious, let him take to himself a sort of consolation in
the reflection of how easily it could have been made even more so.
Instead, therefore, of complaining of the abundance of minute detail
which I have supplied, he ought to be thankful to me for keeping back
so much of it as I have done. Moreover, as Heine pointed out long ago,
the reader has at his command a resource to which he can always betake
himself when his powers of endurance give out. He can skip. This is a
blessed privilege denied to the writer.
Incomplete, however, as has been the survey of the subject, it has been
sufficient to give a fairly satisfactory idea of the way in which the
orthography represents, or rather misrepresents, the pronunciation. It
makes manifest beyond dispute the truth of the intimation conveyed at
the outset that the form of a particular word is often, with us, little
more than a fortuitous concourse of unrelated letters in which neither
they nor the combinations into which they enter can be relied upon to
indicate any particular sound. In addition, hundreds of those which
appear in the spelling have no office in the pronunciation. Genuine
derivation has led to the retention of some, spurious derivation to
the introduction of others. There are, consequently, few of the common
words of our language which cannot be spelled with perfect propriety
in different ways, sometimes in half a dozen different ways, if the
analogy be followed of words similarly formed and pronounced. Our
orthography is, therefore, often a matter of contention and always a
matter of study. Knowledge of the accepted form of words must be gained
in each case independently, for there exists no general principle, the
observance of which will guide the learner to a correct conclusion.
As an inevitable result, the acquisition of spelling never calls into
exercise, with us, the reasoning faculties. On the contrary, its direct
effect is to keep them in abeyance. The ability to spell properly is
an intellectual act only to the extent that attention and recollection
are intellectual acts. It can and not unfrequently does characterize
persons who are very far from being gifted with much mental power. All
who attain proficiency in it are compelled to spend time which, under
proper conditions, could have been far more profitably employed. There
are men who do not attain it at an early age, and some even who never
attain it at all. Moore, for illustration, speaking of Byron, tells us
that spelling was “a very late accomplishment with him.”[25] The case
of William Morris was far worse. This poet never learned to spell at
all. The fact is recorded by his biographer. In speaking of the beauty
of his handwriting, he had to admit the failure of his orthography to
reach the standard set by it. “The subsidiary art of spelling,” he
writes, “was always one in which he was liable to make curious lapses.
‘I remember,’ the poet once said, ‘being taught to spell and standing
on a chair with my shoes off because I made so many mistakes.’ In
later years several sheets of _The Life and Death of Jason_ had to
be cancelled and reprinted because of a mistake in the spelling of
a perfectly common English word; a word, indeed, so common that the
printer’s reader had left it as it was in the manuscript, thinking that
Morris’ spelling must be an intentional peculiarity.”[26]
The ignorance which exists in regard to the orthographic situation is
bad enough; but the superstition which has been born of it is still
worse. It is assumed to have come down to us pure and perfect from a
remote past. Hence, it must be religiously preserved in all its assumed
sacredness and genuine uncouthness. Even improvements which could be
made with little difficulty, which would have no other result than
bringing about with the least possible friction uniformity in certain
classes of words--these slight alterations are assailed with almost
as much earnestness and virulence as would be encountered by sweeping
changes designed to make the spelling really phonetic.
As men are more apt to be interested in particular illustrations than
in general discussion, it may be worth while to follow up the survey
of the situation which has just been given with an account in detail
of the history of a special class of words. In this once prevailed the
tendency to bring about absolute uniformity. The movement was arrested
before the desired result was attained. It left a few over thirty
examples as exceptions to the general practice. In the derivatives
of some of these it went back to the regular rule and consequently
contributed exceptions to the exceptions. This condition of things has
endeared these anomalies to the hearts of thousands. The class itself
consists of the words ending in _or_ or _our_. About the proper way of
spelling this termination controversy has raged for more than a hundred
years. The examination of the whole class can be best carried on by
selecting one of the words belonging to it as typical of all. To its
story the next chapter will be largely confined.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] _Duchess of Powysland_, chap. x.
[17]
And add to these retired leisure
That in trim garden takes his pleasure.
--_Il Penseroso._
[18] See page 105.
[19] _Memoir of the Life and Writings of the late William Taylor of
Norwich._ London, 1843. Southey to Taylor, July 13, 1803, vol. i, p.
466.
[20] See page 125.
[21] “The church is one huge nef with a double Aisle to it.”--Addison,
_Remarks on Several Parts of Italy, etc._ First edition, 1705, p. 493.
[22] In Professor Arber’s accurate reprint of the original edition, the
word, spelled as _frend_, can be found on pages, 20, 21, 22, 24, 43,
73, 75, 87, 89, 90, 91, 94, 99, 113, 121, 140, 149, 154, and 158. In
some instances the word appears two or more times on the page. On pages
23 (twice) and 113 is found _frendly_, and on page 140 _frendship_.
Nowhere does the _i_ appear in these last two words. The solitary
instance of the spelling _friend_ is on page 112.
[23] _Standard of Pronunciation in English_, pp. 191-202.
[24] _Faerie Queene_, Book II, canto ix, st. 21.
[25] _Moore’s Diary_, vol. v, p. 249.
[26] _The Life of William Morris_, by J. W. Mackail, London, 1899, vol.
i, p. 8.