CHAPTER VIOBJECTIONS, REAL AND REPUTED
Two languages, it has just been said, we have: one we write, and one we speak. To bring them even remotely into conformity is one of the hardest problems to solve that was ever put before the users of any tongue. It is manifest from the survey which was made of the orthographic situation, that the difficulties which stand in the way of reforming English spelling are not the difficulties which are ordinarily paraded. There are arguments against any change whatever. They do not seem to me strong ones, but they are honestly held. Furthermore, they are held by men who know too much about the language to be imposed upon by the cheap objections, which come from the unknowing or the unthinking. The only one of serious importance is the existence of that period of uncertainty and confusion which must attend the transition from the old to the new. This, to be sure, hasalways existed to some extent. Once it existed to a great extent. It exists at the present day. The introductions or appendixes to our larger dictionaries contain lists of from fifteen hundred to two thousand words which still continue to be spelled in different ways. But many of these are not in common use. Hence, the number of them makes little impression upon the common mind.
But as no reform of any kind ever yet proved an unmixed blessing, so will not reform of English orthography. Especially will this be true of it at its introduction. A change of spelling on any large scale will involve for the time being certain disadvantages. The conflict between the old that is going out and the new that is coming in cannot fail to produce more or less of annoyance. These disturbances, indeed, last only for a time; but to some they are very real while they do last. Those of us who believe that the permanent benefits accruing to the users of our tongue from a reform of our orthography outweigh immensely the temporary inconveniences and annoyances to which they will be subject, can well afford to bear with the hesitation of those who like the end in view, but dislike the time and toil that must be gone through in order to reach it. There mustalways be taken into consideration the existence of a class of persons who look upon the present state of our orthography as an evil, but an evil that cannot be got rid of without costing more than the benefits received in return.
But such reasons for reluctance to unsettle the existing condition of things are widely different from the pretentious objections that are regularly advanced by those who have not studied the subject sufficiently to understand the real difficulties that lie in the way. Yet these imaginary obstacles loom up so large in the minds of many that they must receive a respectable amount of consideration, even if they are hardly entitled to respectful consideration. It is not for any value they have in themselves that they are discussed here. It is because they are constantly urged by men whose opinions on other subjects are frequently of highest value. The utter hollowness of these common objections to spelling reform will be shown in the course of the following pages, as well as the unconscious insincerity of those advancing them. I say unconscious, because the insincerity has not been caused by any attempt to ignore the facts or to conceal them. It is simply that these have never occurred to them. But I further say insincerity, becausethe moment the real facts are brought to their attention, they refuse to apply to particular cases the general principles upon which they have been loudly insisting. The further great difficulty in dealing with the honest objector does not consist merely in showing him that he is wrong in his facts. It is to make clear that his reasoning is wrong in the few instances in which his facts are right.
The first of these objections is connected with the subject of derivation. There goes on, we are told, an irrepressible conflict between etymological spelling and phonetic, or anything approaching phonetic spelling. If the latter come to occupy the foremost place, the former, it is asserted, will disappear. Incalculable harm would thereby be wrought both to the speech and to its speakers. According to some, life would become a burden to the individual, and the language would be ruined beyond redemption, if the spelling of a word should hide from our eyes the source from which it came. The mystic tie that binds the speech of the past to that of the present would be severed. This is the special argument which comes not unfrequentlyfrom members of the educated, and sometimes of the scholarly class, though not from that section of it which deals with English scholarship. In the course of the preceding pages there has been constant occasion to give illustrations of its falsity, and far too often of its fraud. Consequently, to discuss it directly and at length will seem to many very much like going through the process of slaying the slain. But it plays so conspicuous a part in all discussions of spelling reform, that it is perhaps advisable, if not necessary, to consider it with special fulness of detail.
There is no question, indeed, that this argument based upon etymology has the strongest hold upon the educated class. It is constantly brought forward as if it were sufficient of itself to settle the question. Words, we are told, have a descent of their own. Letters which are never heard in the spoken speech, and indeed cannot be pronounced by any conceivable position known to us of our vocal organs, are not to be dropped from the written speech, because they remind us, or at least remind some of us, of forms in the languages from which they originally came. It sends a peculiar thrill of rapture, we are assured, through the heart of the student to find, for illustration, indeign,reign,feign, andimpugn, a lettergwhich he never thinks of pronouncing. Silent as it is to the ear, it is, nevertheless, eloquent with all the tender associations connected withdignor,fingo,regno, andimpugno. That persons with little education, and on the other hand persons with the highest linguistic training, should not share in these feelings is not at all to the purpose. Such are not really the ones to be consulted. Between these two classes lies a vast body of educated men whose wishes in this matter should be considered paramount.
That this argument in their behalf may not be charged with misrepresentation, take the following passage from Archbishop Trench, one of the deservedly favorite linguistic writers of the previous generation. Furthermore, as about the only English scholar of any repute who has come to the aid of the opponents of spelling reform, his words deserve quotation on that very account. He is giving as a reason for the retention of useless letters that while they are silent to the ear, they remain eloquent to the eye. “It is urged, indeed,” wrote Trench, “as an answer to this, that the scholar does not need these indications to help him to the pedigree of the words with which he deals, that the ignorant is not helped by them; that the one knows without, and the other does notknow with them; so that, in either case, they are profitable for nothing. Let it be freely granted that this, in both these cases, is true; but between these two extremes there is a multitude of persons, neither accomplished scholars on the one side, nor yet wholly without the knowledge of all languages save their own on the other; and I cannot doubt that it is of great value that these should have all helps enabling them to recognize the words which they are using, whence they came, to what words in other languages they are nearly related, and what is their properest and strictest meaning.”[36]
Now, in the first place, were all this true, the objection would not be a valid one. The well-being of the many is always to be preferred to the satisfaction of the few. A language does not exist for the sake of imparting joyful emotions to the members of a particular group who are familiar with its sources. When committed to writing it is so committed for the purpose of conveying clearly to the eye the sounds heard by the ear. Anything in the form of the printed word which stands in the way of the speediest arrival at such a result is to that extent objectionable. But even this so-called advantageof suggesting origins is distinctly limited. What educated men know of the sources of words is almost entirely confined to Latin and Greek. Of the earlier forms of the more common native words and of their meanings the immense majority of even the most highly cultivated are ignorant. Their ignorance, however, does not seem to impair their happiness any more than it does their comprehension.
But the objection, further, is a purely artificial one. The happiness conferred is a happiness assumed to be confined to the words in their present form. The example of other tongues shows there is no justification for this belief. The Italian is a phonetic language. Does any one believe that an Italian scholar experiences any less satisfaction in finding the Græco-Latinphilosophia, converted in his speech intofilosofiathan an English one does in seeing it in the formphilosophy? Has his language suffered any material injury in consequence? Were I not myself inconsistent and lazy and several other disreputable adjectives, I should writefoneticinstead ofphonetic. This I cheerfully admit. But were not the strictly virtuous defenders of spelling according to derivation equally lacking in consistency, and absolutely unfaithful to the high etymological ideals theyhold up for our admiration, they would be writingphansy, at least, instead offancy. In one of the sporadic attacks of common-sense which have sometimes overtaken the users of our speech,fhas displacedphin this word, though to prevent the result from being wholly rational it has substitutedcfors. The Greekphantasiahas come down to us throughphantasy,fantasy, and has finally subsided into the present form. To the believer in etymological spellingfancyought to be as objectionable asfonetic.
In the second place, the hollowness of this pretended regard for etymology is not only detected, it is emphasized by the fact that the opposition to change is equally pronounced in the case of words where the present form is the result of blundering ignorance which gives an utterly erroneous idea of their origin. Can any antagonist of simplification be induced by his devotion to derivation to abandoncomptroller? This corrupt spelling does more than defy the pronunciation of the word; it gives an utterly false impression of its source.Controlleris in Anglo-Frenchcontre-rollour, in law Latincontra-rotulator. These, again, were taken from the Latincontra, ‘against,’ and the diminutiverotulus,rotula, ‘a little wheel,’ which word in the middle ages acquired the meaning of ‘roll.’The controller, in consequence, was the one who kept the counter-roll or register, by which the entries on some other roll were tested. How naturally the possession of such an office would be apt to give to him holding it “control” over certain others, in the modern sense of the word, is apparent on the surface. But in the sixteenth century, and even earlier, some members of that class, “neither accomplished scholars on the one side nor yet wholly without the knowledge of all languages save their own on the other,” got it into their heads that the first part of the word came from the Frenchcompter, ‘to count.’ Hence came the unphonetic spelling based upon a blunder of derivation!
Take two other examples, illustrative of this attitude of opposition. Could any upholder of etymological spelling be induced to drop thecofscent, though nobody ever pronounced the intruding letter? Yet, as it comes from the Latinsent-ire, the substitution ofscentfor the previoussentdestroys in this case for the vast majority of educated men that delightful reminiscence of the classic tongues which, we are told, imparts so peculiar a charm to the present orthography. Mitford, the historian of Greece, was subjected to ceaseless ridicule and vituperationbecause he preferred the correct etymological formiland, and refused to adopt theswhich had been inserted into the word under the blundering belief that it was either derived from or was in some way related to the Latininsulaand the Frenchisle.
In truth, the argument of derivation is invoked only to retain whatever orthographic anomalies we chance to have. It is abjured the moment an effort is made to root out any etymological anomalies which have been introduced into the speech. The fact is that if spelling according to derivation were heeded it would result in changes to which those proposed by any advocate of simplification of spelling would seem absurdly trivial. This would be particularly noticeable in the case of words derived from native sources. The opponent of spelling reform who bases his hostility upon etymological grounds would be aghast were he asked to conform to his principles in his practice. Out indeed would go thehof the very wordaghastjust used. Nothing would induce him to drop the intruding letter in this case or other letters in scores of other cases, though their only effect is to hide the origin of the word. Or take, for illustration of mere uselessness, thekof whole classes of words of native origin.The letter was as little known to the Anglo-Saxon alphabet as it was to the Roman. Hence, were spelling according to derivation strictly enforced, it would have to disappear from no small number of words where it is not merely superfluous as regards pronunciation, but gives an entirely erroneous impression of the form from which it came. It has been remarked that the original ofbackwasbæc, ofquickwascwic, ofstockwasstoc, ofsickwasseoc. Imagine the indignant feelings of the assumed ardent devotee of spelling according to derivation if he were asked to drop the final letter from these words. Yet from his own point of view it has no business there at all.
To a certain extent this particular brand of ruin had already overtaken the language. From the native words no one had ever thought of discarding the finalk, because scarcely any one knew of the forms these originally had. But knowledge of Latin was widespread. Regard for derivation succeeded, therefore, in banishing it from whole classes of words taken from that language. The struggle, however, was long. The authority of Doctor Johnson was in vain invoked for its retention. One must be familiar with the history of orthography to appreciate what dissensions sprang up in oncehappy homes, what prognostics were indulged in of the ruin that would betide the speech, were men ever to be induced to spellmusickandhistorickandprosaick, and a host of similar words, without their finalk. Boswell, who could not help reproaching Johnson for dropping the vowelufromauthour, praised him for standing up for the retention of this final consonant. He represents him as saying that he spelledImlacinRasselaswith acat the end because by so doing it was less like English, which, he continued, “should always have the Saxonkadded to thec.” The “Saxon k” was the lexicographer’s personal contribution to the original English alphabet. “I hope,” continued Boswell, “the authority of the great master of our language will stop this curtailing innovation by which we seecritic,public, etc., frequently written instead ofcritick,publick, etc.”
The biographer’s hopes were doomed, however, to disappointment. Walker, the favorite lexicographer of a hundred years ago, bowed to the storm, while he deplored the havoc it had wrought. “It has been a custom within these twenty years,” he wrote, “to omit thekat the end of words when preceded byc. This has introduced a novelty into the language, which is that of ending a word with an unusual letter,and is not only a blemish on the face of it, but may possibly produce some irregularity in future formations.” To call it a novelty was stating the matter too strongly. But to this extent Walker’s assertion was true, that spelling a word with a finalcwas only occasional.
Here we have been considering the dropping of a useless final letter which has no justification for its existence on the ground of derivation. This naturally leads to the consideration of the case in which it is proposed to drop a particular one which has such justification. This is the no longer pronounced guttural with which, as one example,throughends. One of the queer objections brought against the spellingthruwas that hardly a word existed in our language that ended in the letteru. That seemed to the protester an all-sufficient reason for never letting any of them have that termination. If the sound was there to be represented, there seemed no very cogent reason why the letter fitted to represent it should not perform its office. In the original speechuterminated some most common words, assunu, ‘son’;duru, ‘door’; andpu, ‘thou.’ What crime has this unfortunate vowel committed that it should be deprived of its ancient privilege of standing at the end of a word? The objection is interesting because itshows what sort of reasons intelligent people can be led to believe and to adduce under the honest impression that these are to be deemed arguments.
Another fallacy connected with this subject of spelling in conformity with the derivation is suggested by the extract taken from Archbishop Trench’s work, rather than directly asserted in it. This is that a knowledge of the origin of words is a desirable if not an essential requisite to their proper use. Consequently, the spelling of the English word should be made to conform to the etymology for that particular reason. This is an assumption that has no warrant in fact. The existence of great authors in every literature, who had either no knowledge or had very imperfect knowledge of the sources of the speech which they wielded at will, is an argument which may be ignored, and ordinarily is ignored, because it can never be squarely met. It is not from their originals or from their past meanings that men learn the value of the terms they employ. Acquaintance with that comes from experience or observation, or from familiarity with the usage of the best speakers and writers. Is the meaning ofnauseaany plainer after we have learned that it is by origin a Greek word which come fromnaus, ‘ship,’ and in consequence ought strictly to be limited todenoting seasickness? One hour’s experience of the sensation will give the sufferer a keener appreciation and a preciser knowledge of the signification than a whole year’s study of the derivation. Willstirrupbe employed with greater clearness after one has learned that in the earliest English it wasstige-râp, and that accordingly it meant the ‘rope’ by which one ‘sties’ or mounts the horse? The information thus gained has an independent value of its own. It may be of interest as satisfying an intelligent curiosity. It may show that the first stirrups were probably made of ropes. But it implies a mistaken and confused perception of what is to be derived from etymological study, to fancy that as a result of it any one will have a better knowledge of this particular appendage to a saddle or use the term denoting it with more precision and expressiveness. It is only in the exceptional cases, when a word is beginning to wander away from its primitive or strictly proper sense, that the knowledge of the derivation imparts accuracy of use. Yet even here this knowledge is of slight value. The transition of meaning is either a natural development which ought not to be held in check, or it is a general perversion which the etymological training of the few is in most cases powerless to arrest.
One form of this fallacy of derivation is that which connects it with the history of words. The two are closely allied. They are, indeed, so closely allied that when one is spoken of, it is the other that is usually meant. We are often condescendingly assured by the opponent of spelling reform that its advocates forget that words have a history of their own. After indulging in this not particularly startling remark he almost invariably goes on to make clear by illustration that he himself has no conception of what it means. “Shall we,” asks a writer, after reciting this well-worn formula—“shall we mask the Roman origin ofCirencesterandTowcesterby spelling them Sissiter and Towster,” as they are pronounced? Now it may not be wise, for various reasons, to alter the orthography of proper names. But the unwisdom of it will not be for the reason here given. In this case it is evident from the words accompanying his protest that what the decryer of change means to say is that by altering the spelling of the place names, their history would be obscured. What he actually says, however, is that their derivation, which is but a single point in their history, would be hidden from view.
For the leading idea at the bottom of an argument of this sort, if it has any idea at all, mustnecessarily be that the particular form which the word assumed at the first known period of its existence should be the form religiously preserved for all future time. Now, if orthography is merely or, even mainly, to represent etymology; if, further, we are able both to obtain and retain the earliest spelling, there is method in this madness, even though there be not much sense. But of the first form we have been able to secure the knowledge with certainty in only a few instances. Far fewer are the instances in which we have retained it. Almost invariably it is a form belonging to some later period that is adopted and set before us as somehow having attained sanctity. This imputed sanctity works only harm. The maintenance of one form through all periods not only contributes nothing to the history of the word, it does all it can to prevent any knowledge of its history being kept alive. For it is the spoken word alone that has life. Only by the changes which the written word undergoes can the record of that life be preserved. If the written word remains in a fossilized condition, all direct knowledge of the successive stages through which the spoken word passed, disappears. The moment a word comes to have a fixed unchangeable exterior form, no matter whatalterations may take place in its interior life, that is to say, in its pronunciation, that moment its history, independent of the meaning it conveys, becomes doubtful and obscure. This is the condition to which English vocables are largely reduced. Their successive significations can be traced; but knowledge of the important changes of pronunciation they have undergone becomes difficult, if not impossible, of attainment.
Two terms designating common diseases may seem to illustrate fairly well the opposite condition of things here indicated. They arequinsyandphthisic. The one early dropped the formssquinancy,squinacy, andsquincy, which belonged to the immediate Romance original. To that anshad been prefixed. When that letter ceased to be pronounced, no one thought of retaining it. So for that reason it disappeared from the English, just as for the opposite reason it has been preserved in the corresponding French wordesquinancie. In this case a history has been unrolled before us. It is not unlike that seen in the supplanting of the formchirurgeonbysurgeon. On the other hand, take the case of the wordphthisic, as now ordinarily written. This form gives us no knowledge of the real history of the word. From other sources we learn that it was once spelled as it is now pronounced.The most current of several forms wastisik. In Milton it is found astizzic. Such a spelling makes evident at once how it was then sounded, just as still do the correspondingtisicoin Italian andtisicain Spanish. But in the seventeenth century, and even as early as the sixteenth, scholars went back to the Greek original and imposed upon the unfortunate word the combinationphth, which by a liberal use of the imagination is supposed to have somehow the sound oft. This has finally come to prevail over the earlier phonetic spelling. He whose knowledge of the word is confined to its present form is almost necessarily led to believe that it was taken directly from its remote source. From all acquaintance with the various changes it has undergone, and with the pronunciation it has had at various periods, he is shut out. Archbishop Trench has pointed out the transition by whichemmethas passed intoantthrough the intermediate spellings ofemetandamt, which necessarily represented changes of sound.[37]By this means a history has been unrolled before us. But he certainly had no right to felicitate himself upon the result. If his theories be true, instead of spelling the word as we pronounce it,which we now do, we ought to adopt in writing the poetic and dialecticemmetat least, if not the earliest known form. To employ his own argument, letters silent to the ear would still be most eloquent to the eye. In this particular case some of us would be made happy beyond expression by being reminded of the Anglo-Saxon originalæmete.
Even using history in the narrow and imperfect sense in which those who advance this argument constantly employ it, we are no better off. Nearly every old word in the language has had different forms at different periods of its existence. Which one of these is to be selected as the standard? When does this so-called history begin? Take the word we spellhead. Shall we so write it because it is the custom to do so now? Or shall we go back to the Anglo-Saxon originalheâfod?Or shall we adopt some one of its three dozen later forms—such, for instance, ashevedorheedorhed? This last, which with our present pronunciation, would be a pure phonetic spelling, was more or less in use from the thirteenth to the eighteenth century. The reason for our preference for the existing form has no other basis than the habit of association to which attention has been so frequently called. We do not spell the wordasheadbecause it gives us a knowledge of the changes which have taken place in its history, for this it does not do at all. Nor do we so spell it because it gives us a knowledge of its derivation, for this it does very little. Nor further do we so spell it because it represents pronunciation, for this it does still less. We cling to it for no other reason than that we are used to it. What is here said ofheadcan be said of thousands of other words.
Even in the case of Cirencester and Towcester, above mentioned, the same statement holds good. As there intimated, proper names do not really enter into the discussion of the general question. Being individual in their nature, they are more or less under the control of the individuals who own them. These can and do exercise the right of changing at will their orthography and their pronunciation. But for the sake of the argument, let us assume that it would be a gross outrage to spell the names of these towns asSissiterandTouster. Let us admit that by such a change all knowledge of their Roman origin would be lost to those who did not care enough about it to make the matter a subject of special study. It is accordingly a natural and, indeed, a perfectly legitimate inference, that in the designation of towns the main office oftheir orthography is to point out who founded them or how they chanced to come into being.
If this be so, the principle ought to be carried through consistently. What, in such a case, should be done withExeter? The ancient name wasExanceaster, which passed through various changes of form, among which wereExscesterandExcester. As early, at least, as the reign of Queen Elizabeth it became usuallyExeter. If it be the object of spelling to impart information about the origin of places, ought we not at any rate to return to the formExcester, to remind “a multitude of persons, neither accomplished scholars on the one side, nor yet wholly without the knowledge of all languages save their own on the other,” that the Romans once had a permanent military station on the banks of the Exe? It is to be feared that no devotion to derivation would lead the inhabitants of the city to sanction such a change. In truth, the value of all knowledge of this sort is something assumed, not really substantiated. The few who need it, or wish it, can easily acquire it without the necessity of perverting orthography from its legitimate functions to the business of imparting it. How many of the inhabitants of Boston in Lincolnshire and of Boston in Massachusetts lead useful, happy, and honoredlives, and go down to their graves in blissful unconsciousness of the fact that the name of their city has been shortened from Botolph’s Town! How many of them are aware, indeed, that such a saint as Botolph ever existed at all?
In truth, all knowledge of the history of words ceases for most of us the moment these assume a fixed form, independent of the sounds they purport to represent. That history is found in the pronunciation. It is recorded and revealed to us only by the variations in spelling which variations in pronunciation require. In this matter the attitude of the past and of the present is distinctly at variance. Especially is this so in the case of unpronounced letters. Our ancestors discarded such without scruple, whether found in the original or not. We cling to them. We are not content with merely clinging to them. The more in the way they are, the more we cherish them. This point is brought out strikingly in the earlier and the later treatment of two initial letters which ceased to be sounded. These arekandh. The latter was incontinently dropped in writing when it failed to be heard in the pronunciation. This, indeed, was done so long ago that knowledge of the fact that the letter once existed at the beginning of certain words is now mainly confinedto the students of our earlier speech. In the other case the unpronounced letter is still retained in the spelling. There is consequently no way for us to determine from the form of the word when this initialkceased to be a living force. That knowledge must be gained with more or less of certainty from an independent investigation.
It has already been pointed out that there are some two dozen words in our speech in which an initialkfollowed bynis silent.[38]If the researches of Mr. Ellis can be trusted, the dropping of the sound of this letter from pronunciation in the speech of the educated took place in the seventeenth century. By that time English orthography was beginning to be subjected to that process of petrifaction which consummated its work in the century following. The external form in existence continued to be preserved with little or no modification, regardless of whatever changes took place in its internal life. Naturally these words beginning with an unpronouncedkfell under this influence. Take as an illustration the wordknave, corresponding to the Germanknabe, ‘boy,’ and having originally the same signification.As regards its meaning the English word has passed through the successive senses of boy, of a boy as servant, of a servant without regard to age, of a rascally servant, and finally of a simple rascal with no reference to the time of life or the nature of employment. There it remains. The idea both of boyhood and of service has entirely disappeared. That of rascality, not at all implied in the original, has now become the predominant sense.
In the case of the signification, we have therefore a complete history unrolled before us. In the case of the form, we have but a partial history. It was not so at first. In the earlier period the spelling of the word changed with its pronunciation. The original wascnafa. The substitution ofkforcindicated no difference in the sound. But the weakening of the finalatoe, the replacing offbyvdenoted the prevalence at the early period of the idea that the spelling was not designed to defy pronunciation, but to point it out. Then changes made in it are evidences of the changes that had been going on in the sound. But when later thekdisappeared from the pronunciation, no attempt was made to indicate the fact by dropping it also from the spelling. By that time the printing-office had begun to fasten its fangs upon the language.Consequently, the letter no longer heard by the ear was carefully retained to console the eye and burden the memory.
Now, it may not be advisable—at least, for the present—to discard the unpronounced initial letter in the case of words of this class; this, too, for reasons entirely independent of the feelings of association. The revival of the phonetic sense among the men of the English-speaking race is possible as a result of an extensive reform of English spelling. In that case the pronunciation ofkbeforenmight be resumed in English speech, just as it is still found in German. The letter, indeed, continues yet to be heard in English dialects, so that in one sense it has never died out. Highly improbable, therefore, as is the resumption of the sound, it is at least possible. This consideration, though it can not form an argument, may suggest a pretext for not discarding it at present. But to retain it on the ground of derivation is more than irrational in itself. It is absolutely inconsistent with the attitude which has been taken and is now universally approved in the case of words which once were spelled with an initialh.
Had the users of language been always under the sway of the feelings which have made us keep thek, no small number of common wordswhich now begin withl,n, orrwould have these letters preceded by the aspirate. So they were at first. This class may be represented byladderandlot, the originals of which werehlædderandhlot; byneckandnut, originallyhneccaandhnut; byringandroof, originallyhringandhrôf. The letterh, having disappeared from the pronunciation, our fathers dropped it from the spelling. The most ardent devotee of derivation as a guide to orthography would now be unwilling to restore it. The same men who would be horrified at the idea of droppingkfromknollandknife, because that letter or its equivalent is found in the original, would be equally horrified at the thought of restoringhtoloudandnapandraven, though in all of them it once flourished. It is simply another illustration of the same old sham of invoking derivation to resist any change in the spelling to which we are accustomed, and of disregarding it, and even defying it, when we are asked to carry out our professed principles by altering the spelling so as to bring it into accordance with them.
There is still another objection to be considered. We are given to understand that differenceof spelling is quite essential to the recognition of the meaning of words pronounced alike. Otherwise there would be danger of misapprehension. This is a point upon which Archbishop Trench insisted strongly. He discovered that great confusion would be caused by writing alike words which have the same sound when heard, but are distinguished to the sight. Such, for illustration, aresonandsun,rainandreignandrein. This is one of those difficulties which are very formidable on paper, but nowhere else. It is what comes to men of learning from looking at language wholly from the side of the eye and not at all from that of the ear. In the controversy that went on in this country in consequence of the President’s order, I noticed that in a certain communication an old friend of mine specified me personally as one setting out to destroy what he called sound English by arranging letters in a totally different way, and thereby seeking to reconstruct the language to its destruction. Naturally, he was indignant at the nefarious attempt, though had he stopped to consider the disproportion between the pettiness of the puny agent and the massiveness of the mighty fabric, there would have appeared little reason for much excitement. Personally, so far from feeling resentment at his words, Iread them with even more amazement than sorrow. The argument he used is of the sort which I expect to find communicated to the press by that noble army of the ill-informed who are always rushing to the rescue of the English language from the reckless practices of those who do not use it with their assumed accuracy or spell it according to their ideas of propriety. But here the objection came from a real scholar.
His words were, therefore, a convincing argument for the necessity of reform. They revealed in a striking way the bewildering effect our orthography exercises over the reasoning powers. He wanted to know what the phonetists—they deserve that name, he told us—are going to do with words alike in sound but different in sense. He began withaleandail. It might have been inferred from his argument that, unlessailandalewere spelled differently, no person could ever be quite certain whether he were suffering from the one or partaking of the other. Another of his instances wasbearandbare. Does anybody, on hearing either of these words, hesitate about its meaning? Why should he, then, when he sees it, even if both were spelled the same way? Or again, take the nounbearby itself. If any one comes across it, does he suffer much perplexity in ascertaining whether it isthe bear of the wilderness or the bear of Wall Street that is meant?
This last example, indeed, exposes of itself the utter futility of this argument. There is an indefinite number of words in the language which have precisely the same form as nouns or verbs. The fact that they belong to different parts of speech never creates the slightest confusion. Furthermore, there are but few common words in the language which are not used in different senses, often in many different senses, sometimes in widely different senses. Does that fact cause any perceptible perplexity in the comprehension of their meaning? Do reporters, who must arrive at the sense through the medium of the ear, experience any difficulty in ascertaining what the speaker is trying to say? Does any one in any relation of life whatever? When a man is returning from a voyage across the Atlantic, is he bothered by the different significations of the same term when he is trying to ascertain whether it is his duty to pay a duty? When one meets the wordpiece, does he suffer from much embarrassment in determining whether it means a part of something, or a fire-arm, or a chessman, or a coin, or a portion of bread, or an article of baggage, or a painting, or a play, or a musical or literary composition?Does any one experience trouble, on hearing a sentence containing the wordthick, in determining whether it is an adjective or a noun, or whether it denotes ‘dense,’ or ‘turbid,’ or ‘abundant,’ or a measure of dimension? Given the connection in which it is employed, does any one mistakerainforreignorrein? The negative answer which must be made to such questions as these disposes at once of a difficulty that has no existence outside of the imagination.
In fact, language presents not merely many examples of words with the same spelling which have different meanings, but sometimes of those that have exactly opposite meanings. Yet that condition of things produces no confusion. Does any one hesitate about what course to pursue when told, on the one hand, to “stand fast” or on the other to “run fast?” Does he ever in actual life confound the wordcleave, when it means to adhere with thecleavewhich means to destroy adherence by splitting? When you dress a fowl, you take something off it or out of it; when you dress a man, you put something on him. Or take an example which may fairly be considered as presenting a certain obscurity at the first glance. In his ode on the morning of Christ’s Nativity,Milton tells us that “Kings sate still with awful eye.” Hereawfuldoes not have the sense, most common with us, of ‘inspiring awe,’ but the strictly etymological one of ‘full of awe.’ Yet no one proposes to indicate by difference of spelling a difference of signification, the ascertainment of which depends not on the sight but on the brain. In truth, if no trouble is experienced in determining the meaning of words sounded alike in the hurry of conversation, when the hearer has but a moment to compare the connection and comprehend the thought, it is certainly borrowing a great deal of unnecessary anxiety to fancy that embarrassment could be caused in reading, where there is ample opportunity to stop and consider the context and reflect upon the sense which the passage must have. The actual existence of any such difficulty would imply an innate incapability of comprehension which, were it even justified by the individual consciousness of the asserter, it would be manifestly unfair to attribute to the whole race.
It needs but a moment’s consideration to perceive the worthlessness of this argument. Yet let us put ourselves in the place of those who advance it, and treat it as if it had some weight. Let us assume that if words havingthe same pronunciation are spelled alike, a confused apprehension would be produced in the reader’s mind. But are these believers in man’s impenetrable stupidity willing to carry out the doctrine they profess to its logical conclusion? For the sake of preventing this assumed confused state of mind, are they willing to change the spelling of words which have precisely the same form but a pronunciation distinctly different? It will be found that the very men who clamor for the retention of different spellings for words pronounced alike are just as insistent upon the retention of words with similar spellings which are pronounced unlike. Of these there is a very respectable number in our tongue. Especially is this true of verbs and substantives which have precisely the same form on paper, but a different pronunciation. Welead, for example, an expedition to discover aleadmine. Atarryrope may cause us totarry. This inconsistency of attitude is necessarily more marked in words belonging to the same part of speech. In consequence, a burden is imposed upon the learner of mastering a distinction which, in a language sensibly spelled, would be ashamed to put in a plea for its existence.Slough, ‘a miry place,’ has as little resemblance in sound as in meaning toslough, ‘the cast-off skin of aserpent.’ We indicate thetearin our eyes and thetearin our clothes by words which have little likeness of sound, but have the same spelling in the written speech. We could go on enumerating examples of this sort; but to what end? It is maintained, according to the theory enunciated in the case ofailandale, that a distinction of form in these and similar words ought to be insisted upon so that the reader may discover without effort which one is meant. But the application of this very argument would be at once scouted were an attempt made to extend the principle to words spelled alike but pronounced differently. This is but another of the numberless inconsistencies in which the opponents of reform find themselves plunged when they attempt to stand up for the existing orthography on the ground of reason.
So much for an objection which, if not serious in itself, has to many a serious look. There has been another brought forward which is so baseless, not to call it comic, that nothing but the sincerity of those adducing it would justify its consideration at all. It is to the effect that, were there any thorough reform of the spelling,all existing books would be rendered valueless. Owners of great libraries, built up at the cost of no end of time and toil and money, would see their great collections brought to nought. The rich and varied literature of the past could no longer be easily read; it would have to wait for the slow work of presses to transmit it to the new generation in its modern form. Such is the horrible prospect which has been held before our eyes. The view would be absurd enough if directed against thoroughgoing phonetic reform. But as against the comparatively petty changes which are proposed and which alone stand now any chance of adoption, language is hardly vituperative enough to describe its fatuousness. But as in the discussion of this question we have to deal largely with orthographic babes, it is desirable to pay it some slight attention.
For the purpose of quieting the fears which have been expressed, it is necessary to observe that change of anything established, even when generally recognized as for the better, is not accomplished easily. Therefore, it is not accomplished quickly. It never partakes of the nature of a cataclysm. For its reception and establishment it requires regular effort, not impulsive effort; it requires labor prolonged as well as patient. It took, for instance, manyscores of years to establish the metric system wherever it now prevails, with all the power of governments behind it. When the change made depends upon the voluntary action of individuals it must inevitably be far slower. Any reform of spelling in English speech which is ever proposed must stretch over a long period of years before it is universally adopted. There will consequently be ample time for both publishers and book-owners to set their houses in order before the actual arrival of the impending calamity.
This is on the supposition that it can be deemed a calamity to either. There is actually about it nothing of that nature. The process deplored is a process which is going on every day before our eyes. There is not an author of repute in our literature of whose works new editions are not constantly appearing in order to satisfy a demand which the stock on hand does not supply. Few, comparatively, are the instances in which a classic English writer is read in editions which came out during his lifetime. This is true even of those who flourished as late as the middle of the last century. How many are the people who read Thackeray, Dickens, and Macaulay in books which appeared before the death of these authors? If there is any demandfor their works, these are constantly reprinted and republished. But the appearance of the new book does not lower the value of the old, if it be really valuable. If it be not, if the edition supplanted is of an inferior character or has been merely a trade speculation, it has already served its purpose when it has paid for itself. Under any conditions it can be trusted to meet the fate it deserves.
So much for the point of view of booksellers and book-owners. As regards book-readers, the fear is just as fatuous. Few, again, are the men who read works of any long repute—naturally the most valuable works of all—in the spelling which the author used who wrote them and in which the publisher first produced them. It is not because the difference in this respect between the present and the past breeds dislike. On this point the book-market furnishes incontrovertible testimony. Valuable works which are printed in an orthography different from that now prevailing do not decrease in price at all. On the contrary, they steadily rise. This is a fact which the impecunious student, in search of early editions, learned long ago, not to his heart’s content, but to its discontent. The increase in value renders them difficult for him to procure. Does the difference of spellingrender them difficult to decipher? A single example will suffice to settle that point. At the present moment there lies before me the first edition of the greatest English satire to which the strife of political parties has given birth—theAbsalom and Achitophelof John Dryden. It was published in November, 1681. To purchase it now would, under ordinary circumstances, take far more money than it would to buy the best and completest edition of the whole of Dryden’s poems. It consists of ten hundred and twenty lines of rhymed heroic verse. The number of different words it contains may be guessed at from that fact; it has never, to my knowledge, been determined. But the words which are spelled differently in it from what they are now are just about two hundred.
This first edition itself presents certain characteristics of spelling so alien to our present orthography that it suggests that those now desiring change in it need not necessarily be put to death as having plotted treason against the language. In truth, the examination of this one poem, as it originally appeared, would destroy numerous beliefs which ignorance has created and tradition handed down and superstition has come to sanctify. A few of the facts found in it may be worth recounting for thebenefit of those who fancy that forms now prevailing have descended to us from a remote past. Among the two hundred variations from the now prevalent usage are the past participlesallowd,bard,confind,coold,enclind,faild,shund,unquestiond, andbanisht,byast,impoverisht,laught,opprest,pact,puft,snatcht. We have alsoredas a preterite andsedas a participle. Further, not only iscouldmost frequently spelledcoud, which is etymologically right, but there also appearsshoud, which is phonetically nearer right but is etymologically wrong.Woud, indeed, is distinctly preferred towould, the former being found ten times, the latter but once.Monarchoccurs asmonark,mouldasmold,wholeandwholesomeasholeandholsom.Scepteris also the form found, and notsceptre. In the case of several words there are still not unfrequent those variant spellings which were common before the printing-house had established our present uniformity, or, rather, approach to uniformity. There is variation in theor,ourforms with, on the whole, a distinct preference for the latter, as might have been expected when the influence of the French language and literature was predominant.Labor, for instance, as a noun or verb, occurs full two dozen times. In every instance it is spelledlabour. So also in the same way are foundauthour,emperour,inventour,oratour,superiour,successour,tutour, andwarriour. Not the slightest hint of these and such like facts can be gathered from editions now current. This single illustration brings out strongly the practice of the modern publisher in printing the writings of the great authors of the past, not in the orthography they themselves employed but in that which recent custom has chosen to set up in its place. Still, with all these differences just mentioned, and others not specified, the most unintelligent opponent of spelling reform would experience no difficulty whatever in reading the poem.
Another objection remains to be considered. It is not really directed against any proposals made by any organized bodies which have taken up the consideration of the subject. These, to use the distinction already specified, devote themselves to reforminEnglish orthography and not to reformofit. This latter is the object aimed at by individuals and not by societies. Consequently, this objection does not strictly concern the plans for simplification now before the public. It is really directed against thefar wider-reaching reform which would aim to render the spelling phonetic. It is regarded by some as so crushing that I have deferred its consideration to the last. It may be summed up in a few words. Variations of sound are almost numberless. They cause a marked difference of pronunciation among individuals, a more marked difference between different parts of the same country. Furthermore, they are often so delicate as almost to defy representation. You could not denote them if you would; and if you could, you would be encumbered, rather than aided, by the multiplicity of signs. It is impossible, therefore, to have our tongue spelled phonetically, because it is pronounced differently by different persons equally well educated. Whose pronunciation will you adopt? That is the point which has first to be determined. It is safe to say that it is one which can never be determined satisfactorily. That fact is of itself decisive of the matter in dispute.
This view of the question at issue is triumphantly put forward as one which can never be successfully met. Assuming for the sake of the argument that it is a genuine objection, let us look at what it involves. The very result of the lawlessness of our present orthography isgiven as the reason why no attempt should be made to bring it under the reign of law. It is a real maxim in morals, and a theoretical one in jurisprudence, that an offender has no right to take advantage of his own wrong. This is the very course, however, which opponents of change recommend for adoption. Our orthography has rendered the orthoepy varying and doubtful. No one can tell from the spelling of a word how it ought to be pronounced. The result is that it is pronounced differently by different men. Accordingly, there should be no attempt to reduce the orthography to order, because the uncertainty which has been fastened upon it by the pronunciation has rendered it impossible to ascertain what it really ought to be.
But it never seems to occur to those who advance this argument that difficulties of the sort here indicated are not experienced in languages which for all practical purposes are phonetically spelled, such as Italian and Spanish. Even German can be included, because its variations from the normal standard do not extend to the great source of our woes, the arbitrary and different sounds given to the vowels and combinations of vowels. But take, for example, the first mentioned of these tongues. Its pronunciation differs in different parts of the country.In some cases the variation is very distinctly marked. Yet, while the spelling remains the same, no embarrassment follows of the kind indicated. If this simple fact had been taken into consideration, it would at once have disclosed the nature of the imaginary strength and actual weakness of this supposedly crushing argument.
For of all the hallucinations that disturb the mental vision of the advocates of the existing orthography, this is perhaps the most dismal as it is the most unreal. No phonetically spelled tongue ever has or ever would set out to record the varying shades of the pronunciation of any country, still less the varying shades of the pronunciation of individuals. A system which indicates the delicate distinction of sounds characterizing the speech of different regions resembles the chemist’s scales, which detect the variation in weight of filaments of hair to all appearance precisely alike. Instrumentalities of this nature phoneticians may need and use in order to represent the slightest diversities of pronunciation. They can and do get up for their own guidance characters conveying differences even of intonation. But these the ordinary speaker does not require at all. Instead of benefiting him, they would be in his way. For the average man, even of highest cultivation,it is no more important that shades of pronunciation should be denoted in his alphabet than it would be important for him to lug about in all temperatures and in all climates an astronomical clock with a compensation pendulum. What any working phonetic system would set out to do is to give those broad and easily recognizable characteristics of educated utterance which are sufficient to indicate to the hearer what the speaker is aiming to say. It would represent a norm sufficiently narrow of limit to make understood what is said, and sufficiently broad to offer within justifiable bounds ample opportunity for the play of individual or territorial peculiarities. Its principal effect would be to set up a standard which would be ever before the eyes of men.
In truth, the comparison just made is sufficient of itself to lay this ghastly specter of an argument which haunts so persistently the imagination of many opponents of phonetic spelling. It is with our pronunciation as with our timepieces. None of our watches run precisely alike. Few if any can be called unqualifiedly correct. For all that, with the aid of these imperfect and never precisely agreeing instruments, we manage to transact with little friction and delay the daily business of a life in whichwe have constantly to wait upon one another’s movements. So, in the matter of sounds, a phonetic alphabet would denote only those clearly recognizable distinctions which are apparent to the ear of ordinary men. Orthography based upon such an alphabet would assume as the very foundation upon which to build itself the existence of a recognized standard orthoepy. It is that alone which the spelling would represent. Provincial speakers in consequence would have always before their eyes in the form of the word its exact and proper pronunciation. By it they would be able to compare and if necessary to correct their own.
But we may be told that while a standard time actually exists, a standard pronunciation does not. Consequently, no phonetic spelling can be established which will be regarded by any large portion of the general public as satisfactory. The all-sufficient answer to this objection is that the very thing which it is said cannot be done has been already done and done many times. It has been done, too, in the face of the very objection that it could not be done at all. The proof of this statement lies in the existence of the pronouncing dictionary. Works of this nature did not appear until the latter part of the eighteenth century. Before theyappeared the project of producing them was criticised with extreme severity. They were denounced as irrational of nature and as impossible of execution. The same arguments, assumed to be convincing, were produced against them as those just considered against uniform phonetic spelling. Doctor Johnson brought the artillery of his ponderous polysyllables to bear upon them. He proved—at least, to his own satisfaction—the utter futility of Sheridan’s scheme of preparing a work of this nature. His argument was based entirely on the ground of the wide differences prevailing in pronunciation. In spite of these arguments pronouncing dictionaries were prepared. At a comparatively early period several appeared in rapid succession. They are now so thoroughly established in the affections of us all that were a dictionary to leave out this characteristic it would cease to have consideration and sale. But a work of such sort goes upon the assumption that there is a standard pronunciation. Otherwise it would have no justification for its own existence. Its compilers seek to ascertain and represent this standard. A word, indeed, may be and not unfrequently is pronounced differently by different classes of educated men. In that case both or all sounds of it will be recognized—atleast, until such time as one has come to prevail over the other or over all others. The pronouncing dictionary was indeed a necessity of the situation. It was called by Archbishop Trench “the absurdest of all books.” On what ground it can be called absurd by an advocate of the existing orthography it is hard to determine. It is, without doubt, a clumsy substitute for phonetic spelling. It is not for him, however, who protests against such spelling to denounce the aid to correct pronunciation, imperfect as it may be, which has been rendered absolutely essential by the general prevalence of the beliefs he accepts and defends. Had pronouncing dictionaries not come to exist, the divergence which has been going on between spelling and pronunciation in consequence of our lawless orthography would have rapidly extended with the extension of the language and with the increasing number of those who came to speak it, dwelling as they do in regions far apart. Diversities of pronunciation would have been sure to spring up in such a case even among the educated classes, to say nothing of those prevailing in classes of different social grades living almost in contact. As a matter of fact such do spring up now. They must necessarily continue to spring up in a languagewhere the spelling is not under the sway of phonetic law. But they are reduced to the lowest possible terms, in consequence of the wide use of pronouncing dictionaries. Between the authorizations of these there are at times divergences, but the agreements are far more numerous than the divergences. Hence, the authorizations are sufficient to keep the language fairly uniform. Furthermore, these works bring out clearly the truth of the statement with which this chapter began: that every speaker of English has to learn two languages. In dictionaries, the one he reads and writes is given the place of honor on the printed page. To it he turns whenever for any purpose he wishes to consult its meaning. Following after it, whenever the word is not itself phonetically spelled, is the form of it, usually in parentheses, as it is heard from the lips of men. To this he turns for its pronunciation.
No project is entertained by any organized body to establish phonetic spelling. It can hardly be said to exist outside of dictionaries. These have to employ it or some approach to it in order to convey to the users of language a conception of the proper pronunciation which the form itself does not indicate. The discussion of the subject is, therefore, an academic questionrather than a practical one. But this it is desirable to say about it. Phonetic spelling is not a destructive but a conservative agency. Just as the creation of literature holds a language fast to its moorings, just as it renders it stable by arresting all speedy verbal or grammatical change, so the establishment of phonetic spelling would operate upon orthoepy. The exact pronunciation would be imposed upon the word by its very form. No one could mistake it, no one would be tempted to disregard it. From it there would never be variation save when a change in the sound imperatively demanded a change in the spelling to indicate it. This is a counsel of perfection which we can recognize as desirable, but need never expect—at least, in our day—to see realized. None the less can we discern the benefits that would result from it. Had it existed with us, the wide degradation of that sound of a which is represented infatherandfarcould not have gone on at the rapid rate it has done in this country. There are districts in the United States where even the followingldoes not protect it, andcalm, for illustration, is made to ryme withclam. Did phonetic spelling exist in the mother country, the pronunciation ofaalmost like “longi”—as, for example,late, which by American ears is apt to be mistakenforlight—now so prevalent in London and apparently extending over England, could never have held its ground, even with those who had received but a limited education. With an orthography which has no recognizable standard of correct usage, degradations of this sort are always liable to occur; nothing, in fact, can keep them from occurring.