LIST OF HOMOPHONES
This list, the object of which is to make the reader easily acquainted with the actual defect of the language in this particular, does not pretend to be complete or scientific; and in the identification of doubtful words the clue was dictated by brevity. s., v., and adj. mean substantive, verb, and adjective. The sections were made to aid the conspectus.
The main indictment is contained in sections i, ii, and iii. These three sections contain 505 entries, involving some 1,075 words.
The homophones in the other sections, iv, v, vi, vii, viii and ix, are generally of such a kind that they would not of themselves constitute a very peculiar case against the English language; but their addition to the main list does very much strengthen the case. One intention in isolating them from the main list was to prevent their contaminating it with their weaker quality; but their separate classification crosses and sometimes overrides that more general distinction. Section iv has some literary interest; vi is inconsistent; the other sections are more or less scientific. These six sections contain some 330 entries involving about 700 words, so that the total of words involved is about 1,775.
The order in this section is that of the phonetic alphabet.
I. THE MAIN LIST OF HOMOPHONES.
arc, ark.
arm (limb), arm (weapon).
alms, arms.
aunt, ant, arn't.
arch (s.), arch (adj.).
eye, ay, I.
idol, idle, idyll.
aisle, isle, I'll.
eyelet, islet.
our, hour.
bark (dog), bark (tree), bark (boat).
balm, barm.
bite, bight.
buy, by, bye.
bough, bow, bow (of ship).
bound (leap), bound (limit), bound (fr. bind).
bank (ground), bank (money).
barren, baron.
barrow (hill), barrow (wheel-b.).
bat (club), bat (vespertilio).
batter (s.), batter (v.).
buck (various roots and senses).
bustle (hurry), bustle (dress).
but, butt (tub), butt (v.).
bale (ill), bale (pack), bail (bis).
base, bass.
bate, bait.
beck (and nod), beck (a brook).
bell, belle.
bury, berry.
bear (s.), bare (adj.), bear, bare (v.).
berth, birth.
bee, be.
beat, beet.
beetle (insect), beetle (hammer).
beach, beech.
bier, beer.
blow (a stroke), blow (of wind).
bow, beau.
bogy, bogie.
bole, bowl.
bolt (a weapon), bolt (sift), bolt (run).
bore (perforate), bore (tidal), bore (fr. bear), boar.
board, bawd, bored.
ball, bawl.
born, borne.
boy, buoy.
boil (s.), boil (v.).
box (tree), box (receptacle), box (v.).
bridal, bridle.
bray (of donkey), bray (to pound), brae.
break, brake (fern), brake (of carriages, bis).
braze (to solder), braze (to brazen), braise (to stew), braes.
breach, breech.
breeze (the wind), breeze (a fly), breeze (cinders).
broach, brooch.
hue, hew.
die (v.), dye, die (cast).
down (dune), down (fluff), down (adv.).
doubt, dout.
dam (mother), dam (obstruct), damn.
duck (bird), duck (dear), duck (stuff), duck (v.).
dun (colour), dun (importune), done.
date (fruit), date (datum).
dean, dene.
deer, dear.
desert, dessert.
due, dew.
doe, dough.
dock (plant), dock (basin), dock (shear).
drill (sow), drill (bore), drill (training).
drupe, droop.
jar (vase), jar (discord).
jamb, jam.
jet (mineral), jet (squirt).
gin (drink), gin (snare), jinn.
there, their.
the, thee.
eh! aye (ever).
ale, ail.
eight, ait or eyot, ate (fr. eat).
egg, egg (to incite).
elder (tree), elder (senior).
air, heir, ere, e'er.
airship, heirship.
aery, airy.
earn, urn, erne (eagle).
alight (adj.), alight (v.).
ascent, assent.
foul, fowl.
fallow (untilled), fallow (colour).
fane, feign, fain.
faint, feint.
fast (eccl.), fast (adj. various).
fate, fête.
fell (fierce), fell (skin), fell (hill), fell (fr. fall).
fellow, felloe.
ferule, ferrule.
fair, fare [doublet], phare.
fir, fur.
feet, feat (s.), feat (adj. obs.).
filter, philtre.
fit (befit), fit (conflict), fytte [obs.].
flag (v.), flag (ensign), flag (plant), flag (-stone).
flee, flea.
flow, floe.
flock (herd), flock (of wool).
flue (chimney), flue (velu), flew (fr. fly).
fluke (fish), fluke (of anchor), fluke (slang word).
fold (wrap), fold (of sheep), foaled.
four, fore, for.
forego, forgo, and other compounds.
fourth, forth.
foil (s.), foil (v.), foil (fencer's).
fray (ravel), fray (combat).
fret (eat away), fret (adorn), fret (on lute).
freeze, frieze (archt.), frieze (cloth), frees (fr. free).
gamble, gambol,
gum (resin), gum (teeth).
gage, gauge,
gate, gait.
gird (encircle), gird (revile).
guild, gild.
guilt, gilt.
glare, glair (white of egg), + glary, glairy.
gore (pierce), gore (triangle), gore (blood).
groin, groyne (breakwater).
great, grate (s.), grate (v.).
heart, hart.
high, hie.
hide (v.), hide (skin), hied.
hack (hew), hack (hackney).
hamper (impede), hamper (hanaper).
hail! hail (snow), hale (adj.), hale (haul).
helm (of ship), helm (helmet).
hair, hare.
heel, heal, he'll.
here, hear.
hymn, him.
hole, whole, + holy, wholly, holey.
home, holm.
hoar, whore, haw.
hoard, horde,
hawk (bird), hawk (v. of hawker), hawk (hoquet).
hall, haul.
halt (v.), halt (adj.).
horse, hoarse.
hock (of horse), hock (wine).
hop (jump), hop (plant).
hue, hew.
humorous, humerus.
even (s.), even (adj.).
ear, ear (plough), ear (of corn).
yoke, yolk.
yew, ewe, you.
ure, ewer, your.
card (s.), card (v.).
cask, casque.
cast, caste.
cart, carte, quart (cards and fencing).
count (s.), count (v.).
counter (opp.), counter (of shop), counter (in games), &c.
couch (coucher), couch (grass).
caddy (lad), caddy (box).
can (s.), can (v.).
cannon, canon bis.
currant, current.
curry (food), curry (comb).
colonel, kernel.
cape (dress), cape (headland).
caper (skip), caper (plant).
case (event), case (receptacle).
cashier (s.), cashier (v.).
key, quay.
keen (adj.), keen (v.).
cue, queue.
climb, clime.
cleek, clique.
coal, cole.
cope (v.), cope (s.).
coat, cote.
core, corps, caw.
cork, caulk.
call, caul.
corn (grain), corn (horny growth).
course, coarse, corse.
cobble (to patch), cobble (boat), cobble (-stones).
cock (s. and v.), cock (of hay).
cockle (v.), cockle (s. var.).
creak, creek.
cricket (insect), cricket (game).
cruel, crewel.
cruise, cruse, crews.
coombe (valley), coom (dry measure).
choir, quire (of paper).
quiver (v.), quiver (s.).
queen, quean [obs.].
last (adj., verb), last (s.)
lye (s.), lie (v.), lie (s. and n.).
lyre, liar.
lichen, liken.
light (s.), light (not heavy), and hence lighten, lighten.
lack, lac, lakh.
lap (lick up), lap (fold), lap (knees).
lay (s., bis), lay (v.).
lake (pond), lake (colour).
let (allow), let (lease, v.), let (hinder, obs.).
lee, lea.
leaf, lief.
league (s.), league (v. and s.)
leak, leek.
lean (v.), lean (adj.).
leech (sucker and doctor), leech (of sail).
leave (quit), leave (permit).
limp (adj.), limp (v.).
link (chain), link (torch), also golf-links,
list (listen), list (heel over), list (of flannel).
liver (organ), liver (who lives).
lo! low (adj.), low (of cow's voice).
load, lode, lowed,
lone, loan.
lock (of door), lock (of hair), loch.
long (adj.), long (v.).
lorn, lawn,
lute, loot.
mast (of ship), mast (beech-m.).
march (step), march (boundary), March (month).
mine (s.), mine (poss. pron.).
mite, might (s.), might (v.), [and adj. -y].
mitre (headdress), mitre (carpentry, &c.).
mass (quantity), mass (office).
match (equal), match (mèche).
muff (dress), muff (a stupid).
may (month), may (maid, obs.), may (v.).
male, mail (coat of), mail (post).
mane, main.
mace (staff), mace (spice).
maze, maize, Mays (pl. of month).
mare, mayor.
meed, mead (meadow), mead (drink).
mean (intend), mean (intermediate), mean (poor), mien (countenance).
meet, meat, mete (adj. and v.).
mere (pool), mere (adj.).
mint (herb), mint (coining).
miss (fail), Miss.
mew (cage), mew (bird), mew (of cat).
mute (adj.), mute (of birds).
muse (think), Muse, mews (stable), mews (fr. mew).
mote, moat.
mow (various senses), mot (French).
mole (animal), mole (of skin), mole (breakwater).
mould (to model), mould (earth), mould (rust).
maul (disfigure), Mall (place), mahl (-stick).
morn, mourn, and morning.
moor (country), Moor (race)
night, knight.
none, nun.
need, knead, knee'd.
neat (s.), neat (adj.).
no, know.
not, knot.
oar, ore, or, o'er, awe.
augur, auger.
all, awl, orle (heraldry).
altar, alter.
oral, aural.
ought (zero), ought (pp. of owe), ort [obs.].
par, pas (faus).
pie (pica), pie (dish).
pale (pole), pale (pallid), pail.
pile (heap), pile (stake), pile (hair).
pine (v.), pine (tree).
pound (weight), pound (enclosure), pound (to bruise).
pounce (v.), pounce (=pumice).
pallet, palette, palate.
paten, patten, pattern.
pulse (beat), pulse (pease).
punch (strike), punch (drink), Punch (and Judy).
page (of bk.), page (boy).
pane, pain.
peck (measure), peck (v.).
pelt (to throw), pelt (skin).
pen (writing), pen (inclose).
pair, pear, pare.
pearl, purl (flow), purl (knitting).
pique, peak.
peal, peel.
peep (to look), peep (chirp).
piece, peace.
peach (fruit), peach (impeach).
peer (to look), peer (s.), pier.
pill (ball), pill (to pillage).
pink (a flower), pink (a colour), pink (to pierce).
pip (a seed), pip (a disease), pip (on cards).
pitch (s.), pitch (to fall, &c.).
plight (pledge), plight or plite (to plait), and 'sad plight'.
plat (of ground), plait.
plum, plumb.
plump (adj.), plump (to fall heavily).
plane (tree), plain [both various].
plot (of ground), plot (stratagem), + verbs.
pole, poll.
poach, (eggs), poach (steal game).
pore (of skin), pore (top. over), paw.
potter (v.), potter (s.).
pall (v.), pall (cloak), pawl (mechanics).
pry (inquisitive), pry (to prise open).
prise, prize.
pray, prey.
prune (fruit), prune (s.).
rye, wry.
rime, rhyme.
right, write, wright, rite.
rabbit, rabbet (carpentry).
rack [various], wrack.
racket, racquet.
rally (assemble), rally (=raillery).
rank (s.), rank (rancid).
rap, wrap.
rash (s.), rash (adj.).
ruff, rough.
rum (queer), rum (drink), rhumb (naut.).
rung (s.), and past pp. rung, wrung.
rush (s.), rush (v.).
rape (seed), rape (ravish), rape (divn. of county, obs.).
race (family), race (root), race (that is run).
rate (proportion), rate (to chide).
rut (furrow), rut (of animals).
rake (tool), rake (a prodigal), rake (of a ship).
rail (fence), rail (bird).
rain, reign, rein.
raise, raze.
reck, wreck.
rent (paymt.), rent (s., tear), rent (fr. rend).
rest (repose), rest (remainder), wrest.
reed, read.
reef (of rocks), reef (of sails).
reek, wreak.
reel (highland-), reel (cotton-).
reach, retch.
reave, reeve (naut.), reeve (bailiff, obs.).
rifle (ransack), rifle (s.v., groove).
rear (raise), rear (arrière).
rig (of ship), rig (prank, riggish), rig (-s of barley).
rick (of corn), rick wrick (strain).
ring, wring.
repair (mend), repair (resort, v.).
row (oaring), row (s. of things in line), roe (of fish), roe (fem. deer).
roll [various], rôle.
rock (stone), rock (v.), roc.
rocket (plant), rocket (firework).
rue (plant), rue (v. of ruth).
rude (adj.), rood (s.), rued (fr. rue).
room, rheum.
root, route.
rout, route (military).
sign, sine (trigonom.).
site, sight, cite.
size (magnitude), size (glue).
sough, sow.
sound (noise), sound (to fathom), sound (adj.), sound (strait of sea), sound (fish bladder).
sack (bag), sack (to plunder), sack (wine).
swallow (a willow), sallow (pale colour).
sap (of trees), sap (mine).
sum, some.
sun, son + sunny, sonnie.
sage (plant), sage (adj.).
sale, sail.
sell, cell.
sense, cense.
censual, sensual.
surge, serge.
surf, serf.
scent, cent, sent (fr. send).
session, cession.
sea, see.
seed, cede.
seal (animal), ciel or ceil, seal (sign).
seam, seem.
sear, sere, cere, seer.
serial, cereal.
signet, cygnet.
cist (box), cyst (tumour, Gr.).
scar (of wound), scar (a rock).
skull, scull.
scale (shell), scale (of balance), scale (of stairs).
scald (burn), skald (poet, Norse).
scrub (of shrubs), scrub (v.).
sledge (vehicle), sledge (-hammer).
slight, sleight.
slay, sleigh (sledge).
slate (s.), slate (v., abuse).
sloe, slow.
slop (puddle), slop (loose garment).
slot (track), slot (bar).
sole (adj.), soul, sole (a fish).
sow, sew.
saw (tool), soar, sore, saw (maxim), saw (fr. see).
soil (ground), soil (defile), soil (v., of horses).
spar (beam), spar (mineral), spar (to box).
salter (who salts), psalter.
source, sauce.
spell (incantation), spell (letters), spell (turn of work).
spill (upset), spill (match).
spit (v.), spit (roasting), spit (of land).
spray (drizzle), spray (= sprig).
spruce (tree), spruce (adj.)
style, stile.
stud (nail), stud (of horses).
stake (post), steak, stake (deposit).
step, steppe.
stair, stare.
stern (adj.), stern (of ship).
steal, steel, stele.
steep (adj.), steep (v.).
steer (direct), steer (young ox).
still (tranquil), still (distil).
stalk (stem), stalk (v.), stork.
story, storey.
strand (shore), strand (fibre).
strain (v. and s.), strain (a breed).
strait (narrow), straight (upright).
stroke (a blow), stroke (fondle).
stoup, stoop.
shed (scatter), shed (shelter).
tart (adj.), tart (a pie).
tyre (of wheel), tire (fatigue), tire (attire), + tier (who ties).
time, thyme.
tap (to strike), tap (short pipe).
tale, tail, tail (estate in t.).
tender (adj.), tender (s., attender).
tent (pavilion), tent (plug of lint, s. and v.), tent (wine).
tare, tear (v.).
teem, team.
tear (eye), tier.
tick (bedding), tick (sheep), tick (clock), tic (spasm), tick (credit).
till (cash drawer), till (until).
tilt (v., to make aslant), tilt (tourney), tilt (of caravan).
tip (top), tip (make to slant), tip (a gift).
toe, tow (hemp), tow (draw a boat).
two, too, to.
toll (lax), toll (of bells).
taut, taught, tort.
toil (labour), toil (a snare).
top (summit), top (a toy).
truck (vehicle), truck (naut.), truck (barter).
trump (trumpet), trump (at cards).
trunk (box), trunk (of tree), trunk (of elephant).
tray, trait.
trace (track), trace (strap).
chair, chare.
chap (crack), chap (chapman), chap (cheek).
char (burn), char (fish), char (-woman).
chop (with hatchet), chop (and change).
chuck (chick), chuck (strike gently).
chase (hunt), chase (enchase), chase (printer's case), chase (groove).
vice (depravity), vice (clench), vice (deputy).
valley, valet.
van (front of army), van (fan), van (caravan).
vale, vail, veil.
vain, vein, vane.
won, one.
wake (awake), wake (watch), wake (of ship).
wain, wane.
waste, waist.
wait, weight.
wave, waive.
well (good), well (spring).
wee, we.
weak, week.
ween, wean.
war, wore.
would, wood.
II. All the following examples involve wh. > w.[5]
ware (earthen-), ware (aware), wear, where, were.
way, weigh, whey.
weal (wealth), weal (a swelling), wheel.
weald, wield, wheeled.
while, wile.
whine, wine,
white, wight.
whether, weather.
whither, wither.
whig, wig.
whit, wit.
what, wot.
whet, wet.
whirr, were = wer'.
whin, win.
whist, wist.
which, witch, wych (elm).
III. Group of Homophones caused by loss of trilled R.[6]
ion, iron.
father, farther.
lava, larva.
halm, harm.
calve, carve.
talk, torque.
daw, door.
flaw, floor.
yaw, yore.
law, lore.
laud, lord.
maw, more,
gnaw, nor.
raw, roar.
shaw, shore.
IV. The name of a species (of animals, plants, &c.) is often a homophone. Where there is only one alternative meaning, this causes so little inconvenience that the following names (being in that condition) have been excluded from List I.[7]
bleak (fish), bleak (adj.).
dace, dais.
gull (bird), gull (s. and v.).
carp, carp (v.).
cod, cod (husk).
codling, coddling (fr. coddle).
flounder (fish), flounder (v.).
quail (bird), quail (v.).
lark (bird), lark (fun).
ling (fish), ling (heather).
mussel, muscle.
nit, knit.
awk, orc.
oriole, aureole.
pike (fish), pike (weapon).
pout (fish), pout (v.).
perch (fish), perch (alight).
plaice, place.
ray (fish), ray (of light).
rook (bird), rook (v.).
skua, skewer.
skate (fish), skate (on ice).
smelt (fish), smelt (fr. smell).
swift (bird), swift (adj.).
swallow (bird), swallow (throat).
tapir, taper.
tern, turn.
teal (fish), teil (tree).
thrush (bird), thrush (disease).
V. The suffix er added to a root often makes homophones. The following are examples. (And see in List VI.)
byre, buyer (who buys).
butter (s.), butter (who butts).
better (adj.), better (who bets).
border, boarder.
dire, dyer.
founder (v.), founder (who founds).
geyser, gazer.
greater, grater (nutmeg).
canter (pace), canter (who cants).
medlar, meddler.
moulder (v.), moulder (who moulds).
pitcher (vessel), pitcher (who pitches).
pillar, piller.
platter, plaiter.
plumper (adj.), plumper (s.).
sounder (adj.), sounder (who sounds).
cellar, seller, &c.
VI. Words excluded from the main list for various reasons, their homophony being rightly questioned by many speakers.
actor, acta (sanctorum).
brute, bruit.
direst, diarist.
descent, dissent.
deviser, divisor.
dual, duel.
goffer, golfer.
carrot, carat.
caudle, caudal.
choler, collar.
compliment, complement.
lumber, lumbar.
lesson, lessen.
literal, littoral.
marshal, martial.
minor, miner.
manor, manner.
medal, meddle.
metal, mettle.
missal, missel (thrush).
orphan, often.
putty, puttee.
pedal, peddle.
police, pelisse.
principal, principle.
profit, prophet.
rigour, rigger.
rancour, ranker.
succour, sucker.
sailor, sailer.
cellar, seller.
censor, censer.
surplus, surplice.
symbol, cymbal.
skip, skep.
tuber, tuba.
whirl, whorl.
wert, wort (herb, obs.).
vial, viol.
verdure, verger (in Jones).
VII. Homophones due only to an inflected form of a word. Comparatives of adjectives, &c.
adze, adds.
art (s.), art (v.).
bard, barred.
band, banned.
battels, battles (bis).
baste, based.
baize, bays (bis).
bent, bent (pp. bend).
bean, been.
blue, blew.
bode, bowed.
bold, bowled, bolled (obs.).
bald, bawled.
braid, brayed.
bread, bred.
brood, brewed.
bruise, brews.
depose, dépôts.
divers (adj.), divers (plu.).
dug (teat), dug (fr. dig).
duct, ducked.
dust, dost.
daze, days.
daisies, dazes (both inflected).
doze, does (plu. of doe).
aloud, allowed.
fort, fought.
found (v.), found (fr. find)
phase, fays (pl. of fay).
felt (stuff), felt (fr. feel)
furze, firs, and furs.
feed (s. and v.), fee'd.
flatter (v.), flatter (adj.).
phlox, flocks.
phrase, frays.
guise, guys (plu.).
gaud, gored.
gauze, gores.
guest, guessed.
glose, glows.
ground (s.), ground (fr. grind).
graze, greys.
greaves, grieves.
groan, grown.
grocer, grosser.
hire, higher.
herd, heard.
hist, hissed.
hose, hoes.
hawse (naut.), haws, &c.
eaves, eves.
use (v.), ewes, yews.
candid, candied.
clove (s.), clove (fr. cleave).
clause, claws.
cold, coaled.
courser, coarser.
court, caught.
cause, cores, caws.
coir, coyer (fr. coy).
crew (s.), crew (fr. crow).
quartz, quarts.
lighter (s.), lighter (fr. light, adj.).
lax, lacks, &c.
lapse, laps, &c.
lade (v.), laid.
lane, lain.
lead (mineral), led.
left (adj.), left (fr. leave).
Lent, leant, lent (fr. lend).
least, leased.
lees (of wine), leas, &c.
lynx, links.
mind, mined.
madder (plant), madder (fr. mad).
mustard, mustered.
maid, made.
mist, missed.
mode, mowed.
moan, mown.
new, knew, &c.
nose, knows, noes.
aught (a whit), ought (fr. owe).
pact, packed.
paste, paced.
pervade, purveyed.
pyx, picks.
please, pleas.
pause, paws, pores.
pride, pried [bis].
prize, pries.
praise, prays, preys.
rouse, rows.
rasher (bacon), rasher (fr. rash).
raid, rayed.
red, read (p. of to read).
rex, wrecks, recks.
road, rode, rowed.
rote, wrote.
rove (v. of rover), rove (fr. reeve).
rose, rows (var.), roes (var.), rose (v.).
ruse, rues (fr. rue).
side, sighed.
size, sighs.
scene, seen.
seize, seas, sees.
sold, soled (both inflected).
sword, soared.
sort, sought.
span (length), span (fr. spin).
spoke (of wheel), spoke (fr. speak).
stole (s.), stole (fr. steal).
stove (s.), stove (fr. stave).
tide, tied.
tax, tacks (various).
tact, tacked.
tease, teas, tees.
toad, towed, toed.
told, tolled.
tract, tracked.
trust, trussed.
chaste, chased (various).
choose, chews.
throne, thrown.
through, threw.
wild, wiled.
wind (roll), whined.
wax, whacks.
wade, weighed.
weld, welled.
word, whirred.
wilt (wither), wilt (fr. will).
ward, warred.
wont, won't.
warn, worn.
VIII. 'False homophones' [see p. [4]], doubtful doublets, &c.
beam, beam (of light).
bit (horse), bit (piece), bit (fr. bite).
brace, brace.
diet, diet.
deck (cover), deck (adorn).
deal (various).
dram (drink), drachm.
drone (insect), drone (sound).
jest, gest (romance, and obs. senses).
jib (sail), jib (of horses).
fine (adj., v. senses), fine (mulct).
flower, flour.
fleet (s.), fleet (adj.), Fleet (stream).
grain (corn), grain (fibre).
indite, indict.
incense (v. =cense), incense (incite).
kind (adj.), kind (s.).
canvas, canvass.
cuff (sleeve), cuff (strife).
cousin, cozen.
cord, chord (music).
coin, coign.
cotton (s.), cotton (v.).
crank (s.), crank (adj.).
quaver (v.), quaver (music).
levy, levee.
litter (brood), litter (straw).
mantle (cloak), mantle (shelf).
mess (confusion), mess (table).
mussel, muscle.
nail (unguis), nail (clavus).
patent (open), patent (monopoly).
pommel (s.), pummel (v.).
refrain (v.), refrain (s., in verse).
retort (reply), retort (chemical vessel).
second (number), second (of time).
squall (v.), squall (a gale).
slab (s.), slab (adj.).
smart (s. and v., sting), smart (adj.).
stave (of barrel), stave (of music), [stave in (v.)].
stick (s.), stick (v.).
stock (stone), stock (in trade), &c.
strut (a support), strut (to walk).
share (division), share (plough).
sheet (sail and clew), sheet (-anchor).
shear (clip), sheer (clear), sheer off (deviate).
tack (various), tack (naut.).
ton, tun.
wage (earnings), wage (of war).
IX. The following words were not admitted into the main class chiefly on account of their unimportance.
ah! are.
arse, ass.
ask, aske (newt)
ayah, ire.
bah! bar, baa.
barb, barb (horse).
bask, basque.
barn, barne = bairn.
budge, budge (stuff).
buff, buff.
buffer, buffer.
berg, burgh (suffixes).
bin, bin = been.
broke (v. of broke), broke (fr. break).
broom, brume (fog).
darn, darn.
fizz, phiz.
few, feu.
forty, forte.
hay, heigh!
hem (sew), hem (v., haw).
hollow, hollo (v.).
inn, in.
yawl (boat), yawl (howl).
coup, coo.
lamb, lam (bang).
loaf, loaf (v. laufen).
marry! marry (v.).
nag (pony), nag (to gnaw), knag.
nap (of cloth), nap (sleep).
nay, neigh.
oh! owe.
ode, owed.
oxide, ox-eyed.
pax, packs.
pants, pants (fr. pant).
prose, pros (and cons).
sink (var.), cinque.
swayed, suede (kid).
ternary, turnery.
tea, tee (starting point).
taw (to dress skins), taw (game, marbles), tore (fr. tear).
cheap, cheep.
tool, tulle,
we! woe.
ho! hoe.
The facts of the case being now sufficiently supplied by the above list, I will put my attitude towards those facts in a logical sequence under separate statements, which thus isolated will, if examined one by one, avoid the confusion that their interdependence might otherwise occasion. The sequence is thus:
1. Homophones are a nuisance.
2. They are exceptionally frequent in English.
3. They are self-destructive, and tend to become obsolete.
4. This loss impoverishes the language.
5. This impoverishment is now proceeding owing to the prevalence of the Southern English standard of speech.
6. The mischief is being worsened and propagated by the phoneticians.
7. The Southern English dialect has no claim to exclusive preference.
1. That homophones are a nuisance.
An objector who should plead that homophones are not a nuisance might allege the longevity of the Chinese language, composed, I believe, chiefly of homophones distinguished from each other by an accentuation which must be delicate difficult and precarious. I remember that Max Müller [1864] instanced a fictitious sentence
ba bà bâ bá,
'which (he wrote) is said to mean if properly accented The three ladies gave a box on the ear to the favourite of the princess.' This suggests that the bleating of sheep may have a richer significance than we are accustomed to suppose; and it may perhaps illustrate the origin as well as the decay of human speech. The only question that it raises for us is the possibility of distinguishing our own homophones by accentuation or by slight differentiation of vowels; and this may prove to be in some cases the practical solution, but it is not now the point in discussion, for no one will deny that such delicate distinctions are both inconvenient and dangerous, and should only be adopted if forced upon us. I shall assume that common sense and universal experience exonerate me from wasting words on the proof that homophones are mischievous, and I will give my one example in a note[8]; but it is a fit place for some general remarks.
The objections to homophones are of two kinds, either scientific and utilitarian, or æsthetic. The utilitarian objections are manifest, and since confusion of words is not confined to homophones, the practical inconvenience that is sometimes occasioned by slight similarities may properly be alleged to illustrate and enforce the argument. I will give only one example.
Utilitarian objections not confined to homophones.
The telephone, which seems to lower the value of differentiating consonants, has revealed unsuspected likenesses. For instance the ciphers, if written somewhat phonetically as usually pronounced, are thus:
| 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
| nawt | wun | too | three | fawr | faiv | six | sev'n | eit | nain |
by which it will be seen that the ten names contain eight but only eight different vowels, 0 and 4 having the same vowel aw, while 5 and 9 have ai. Both these pairs caused confusion; the first of them was cured by substituting the name of the letter O for the name of the zero cipher, which happens to be identical with it in form,[9] and this introduced a ninth vowel sound ou (= owe), but the other pair remained such a constant source of error, that persons who had their house put on the general telephonic system would request the Post Office to give them a number that did not contain a 9 or a 5; and it is pretty certain that had not the system of automatic dialling, which was invented for quite another purpose, got rid of the trouble, one of these two ciphers would have changed its name at the Post Office.
Æsthetic objections.
In the effect of uniformity it may be said that utilitarian and æsthetic considerations are generally at one; and this blank statement must here suffice, for the principle could not be briefly dealt with: but it follows from it that the proper æsthetic objections to homophones are never clearly separable from the scientific. I submit the following considerations. Any one who seriously attempts to write well-sounding English will be aware how delicately sensitive our ear is to the repetition of sounds. He will often have found it necessary to change some unimportant word because its accented vowel recalled and jarred with another which was perhaps as far as two or three lines removed from it: nor does there seem to be any rule for this, since apparently similar repetitions do not always offend, and may even be agreeable. The relation of the sound to the meaning is indefinable, but in homophones it is blatant; for instance the common expression It is well could not be used in a paragraph where the word well (= well-spring) had occurred. Now, this being so, it is very inconvenient to find the omnipresent words no and know excluding each other: and the same is true of sea and see; if you are writing of the sea then the verb to see is forbidden, or at least needs some handling.
I see the deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple seaweeds strewn:
here seaweeds is risky, but I see the sea's untrampled floor would have been impossible: even the familiar
The sea saw that and fled
is almost comical, especially because 'sea saw' has a most compromising joint-tenant in the children's rocking game
See saw Margery daw.
The awkwardness of these English homophones is much increased by the absence of inflection, and I suppose it was the richness of their inflections which made the Greeks so indifferent (apparently) to syllabic recurrences that displease us: moreover, the likeness in sound between their similar syllables was much obscured by a verbal accent which respected the inflection and disregarded the stem, whereas our accent is generally faithful to the root.[10] This sensitiveness to the sound of syllables is of the essence of our best English, and where the effect is most magical in our great poets it is impossible to analyse.
Once become sensible of such beauty, and of the force of sounds, a writer will find himself in trouble with no and know. These omnipresent words are each of them essentially weakened by the existence of the other, while their proximity in a sentence is now damaging. It is a misfortune that our Southern dialect should have parted entirely with all the original differentiation between them; for after the distinctive k of the verb was dropped, the negative still preserved (as it in some dialects still preserves) its broad open vowel, more like law than toe or beau, and unless that be restored I should judge that the verb to know is doomed. The third person singular of its present tense is nose, and its past tense is new, and the whole inconvenience is too radical and perpetual to be received all over the world. We have an occasional escape by using nay for no, since its homophone neigh is an unlikely neighbour; but that can serve only in one limited use of the word, and is no solution.
Punnage.
In talking with friends the common plea that I have heard for homophones is their usefulness to the punster. 'Why! would you have no puns?' I will not answer that question; but there is no fear of our being insufficiently catered for; whatever accidental benefit be derivable from homophones, we shall always command it fully and in excess; look again at the portentous list of them! And since the essential jocularity of a pun (at least when it makes me laugh) lies in a humorous incongruity, its farcical gaiety may be heightened by a queer pronunciation. I cannot pretend to judge a sophisticated taste; but, to give an example, if, as I should urge, the o of the word petrol should be preserved, as it is now universally spoken, not having yet degraded into petr'l, a future squire will not be disqualified from airing his wit to his visitors by saying, as he points to his old stables, 'that is where I store my petrel', and when the joke had been illustrated in Punch, its folly would sufficiently distract the patients in a dentist's waiting-room for years to come, in spite of gentlemen and chauffeurs continuing to say petrol, as they do now; nor would the two petr'ls be more dissimilar than the two mys.
Play on words.
Puns must of course be distinguished from such a play on words as John of Gaunt makes with his own name in Shakespeare's King Richard II.
K. What comfort man? How is't with aged Gaunt?
G. O, how that name befits my composition!
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old, &c.
where, as he explains,
Misery makes sport to mock itself.
This is a humorous indulgence of fancy, led on by the associations of a word; a pun is led off by the sound of a word in pursuit of nonsense; though the variety of its ingenuity may refuse so simple a definition.
An indirect advantage of homophones.
It is true that a real good may sometimes come indirectly from a word being a homophone, because its inconvenience in common parlance may help to drive it into a corner where it can be retained for a special signification: and since the special significance of any word is its first merit, and the coinage of new words for special differentiation is difficult and rare, we may rightly welcome any fortuitous means for their provision. Examples of words specialized thus from homophones are brief (a lawyer's brief), hose (water-pipe), bolt (of door), mail (postal), poll (election), &c.[11]
2. That English is exceptionally burdened with homophones.
This is a reckless assertion; it may be that among the languages unknown to me there are some that are as much hampered with homophones as we are. I readily grant that with all our embarrassment of riches, we cannot compete with the Chinese nor pretend to have outbuilt their Babel; but I doubt whether the statement can be questioned if confined to European languages. I must rely on the evidence of my list, and I would here apologize for its incompleteness. After I had patiently extracted it from the dictionary a good many common words that were missing occurred to me now and again, and though I have added these, there must be still many omissions. Nor must it be forgotten that, had obsolete words been included, the total would have been far higher. That must plainly be the case if, as I contend, homophony causes obsolescence, and reference to the list from Shakespeare in my next section will provide examples of such words.
Otto Jespersen[12] seems to think that the inconvenience of homophones is so great that a language will naturally evolve some phonetic habit to guard itself against them, although it would otherwise neglect such distinction. I wish that this admirable instinct were more evident in English. He writes thus of the lists of words which he gives 'to show what pairs of homonyms [homophones] would be created if distinctions were abolished that are now maintained: they [the lists] thus demonstrate the force of resistance opposed to some of the sound-changes which one might imagine as happening in the future. A language can tolerate only a certain number of ambiguities arising from words of the same sound having different significations, and therefore the extent to which a language has utilized some phonetic distinction to keep words apart, has some influence in determining the direction of its sound-changes. In French, and still more in English, it is easy to enumerate long lists of pairs of words differing from each other only by the presence or absence of voice in the last sound; therefore final b and p, d and t, g and k, are kept rigidly apart; in German, on the other hand, there are very few such pairs, and thus nothing counterbalances the natural tendency to unvoice final consonants.'
3. That homophones are self-destructive and tend to become obsolete.
For the contrary contention, namely, that homophones do not destroy themselves, there is prima facie evidence in the long list of survivors, and in the fact that a vast number of words which have not this disadvantage are equally gone out of use.
Causes of obsolescence.
Words fall out of use for other reasons than homophony, therefore one cannot in any one case assume that ambiguity of meaning was the active cause: indeed the mere familiarity of the sound might prolong a word's life; and homophones are themselves frequently made just in this way, for uneducated speakers will more readily adapt a familiar sound to a new meaning (as when my gardener called his Pomeranian dog a Panorama) than take the trouble to observe and preserve the differentiation of a new sound. There is no rule except that any loss of distinction may be a first step towards total loss.[13]
It is probable that the working machinery of an average man's brain sets a practical limit to his convenient workable vocabulary; that is to say, a man who can easily command the spontaneous use of a certain number of words cannot much increase it without effort. If that is so, then, as he learns new words, there will be a tendency, if not a necessity, for him to lose hold of a corresponding number of his old words; and the words that will first drop out will be those with which he had hitherto been uncomfortable; and among those words will be the words of ambiguous meaning.
No direct proof
It is plain that only general considerations can be of value, unless there should be very special evidence in any special case; and thus the caution of Dr. Henry Bradley's remarks in note on page [19].
I remember how I first came to recognize this law; it was from hearing a friend advocating the freer use of certain old words which, though they were called obsolete and are now rarely heard, yet survive in local dialects. I was surprised to find how many of them were unfit for resuscitation because of their homophonic ambiguity, and when I spoke of my discovery to a philological friend, I found that he regarded it as a familiar and unquestioned rule.
But to prove this rule is difficult; and as it is an impossible task to collect all the obsolete words and classify them, I am proposing to take two independent indications; first to separate out the homophones from the other obsolete words in a Shakespearian glossary, and secondly, to put together a few words that seem to be actually going out of use in the present day, that is, strictly obsolescent words caught in the act of flitting.
Obsolescence defined.
Obsolescence in this connexion must be understood only of common educated speech, that is, the average speaker's vocabulary. Obsolescent words are old words which, when heard in talk, will sound literary or unusual: in literature they can seem at home, and will often give freshness without affectation; indeed, any word that has an honourable place in Shakespeare or the Bible can never quite die, and may perhaps some day recover its old vitality.
Evidence of obsolescence.
The best evidence of the obsolescence of any word is that it should still be frequently heard in some proverb or phrase, but never out of it. The homophonic condition is like that of aural and oral, of which it is impossible to make practical use.[14] We speak of an aural surgeon and of oral teaching, but out of such combinations the words have no sense. It happens that oral teaching must be aural on the pupil's side, but that only adds to the confusion.
In deciding whether any obsolete homophone has been lost by its homophony, I should make much of the consideration whether the word had supplied a real need, by naming a conception that no other word so fitly represented; hence its survival in a proverb is of special value, because the words of proverbs are both apt and popular; so that for the disuse of such a word there would seem to be no other cause so likely and sufficient as damage to its signification.
The glossary is relied on to contain, besides its other items, all the obsolete words: the homophones separated out from these will show various grades of obsolescence, and very different values as examples bearing on the question at issue.
Table of homophones taken from among the obsolete words in Cunliffe's 'A New Shakespearean Dictionary,' Blackie, 1910.
ancient: replaced by ensign.
bate = remit.
beck = a bow of the head: preserved in 'becks and nods', mutual loss with beck = rivulet.
boot = to profit: Sh. puns on it, showing that its absurdity was recognized.
bottle (of hay): preserved in proverb.
bourne = streamlet: preserved in sense of limit by the line of Sh. which perhaps destroyed it.
breeze = gadfly.
brief (subs.): now only as a lawyer's brief.
brook (verb).
buck = to steep (linen) in lye.
cote: as in sheepcote.
dole = portion, and dole = sorrow: probably active mutual destruction; we still retain 'to dole out'.
dout.
dun (adj.): now only in combination as dun-coloured.
ear = to plough.
fain and feign: prob. mutual loss due to undefined sense of fain. n.b. fane also obsolete.
feat (adj.) and featly: well lost.
fere.
fit = section of a poem.
flaw: now confined to a flaw in metal, &c.
fleet (verb) and fleeting, as in the sun-dial motto, 'Time like this shade doth fleet and fade.'
foil: common verb, obsolete.
gest: lost in jest.
gird = to scoff: an old well-established word.
gout = a drop of liquor.
gust = taste (well lost).
hale = haul (well lost).
hight = named.
hoar: only kept in combination, hoar-frost, hoar hairs.
hose: lost, though hosier remains, but specialized in garden-hose, &c.
hue: not now used of colour.
imbrued (with blood): prob. lost in brewed.
jade: almost confined to jaded(?).
keel = cool.
list: as in 'as you list'.
mail: now only in combination, coat of mail, &c.
marry!
mated = confused in mind (well lost).
meed: lost in mead = meadow (also obs.) and mead=metheglin.
mete and metely = fitting, also mete in 'mete it out', both lost in meet and meat.
mere (subs.).
mouse (verb): to bite and tear.
mow = a grimace.
muse = to wonder: lost in amuse and Muse.
neat = ox.
ounce = pard.
pall = to fail.
peak: survives only in 'peak and pine' and in peaky.
pelting = paltry, also pelt = a skin, lost.
pill = to plunder.
pink = ornamental slashing of dress.
poke = pocket.
poll = to cut the hair.
quarry (as used in sport).
quean = a woman.
rack (of clouds).
raze (to the ground). The meaning being the very opposite of raise, the word raze is intolerable.
rede = counsel, n.b. change of meaning.
rheum: survives in rheumatic, &c.
scald = scurvy (adj.).
sleave = a skein of silk, 'The ravelled sleave of care', usually misinterpreted, the equivocal alternative making excellent sense.
souse (verb): of a bird of prey swooping.
speed: as in 'St. Francis be thy speed' = help, aid.
stale = bait or decoy (well lost).
tarre: to 'tarre a dog on' = incite.
tickle = unstable.
tire = to dress (the hair, &c.).
vail = to let fall.
wreak.
Besides the above may be noted
wont (sub.): lost in won't = will not.
fair: Though we still speak of 'a fair complexion' the word has lost much of its old use: and the verb to fare has suffered; we still say 'Farewell', but scarcely 'he fares ill'; also to fare forth is obsolete.
bolt = to sift, has gone out, also bolt in the sense of a missile weapon; but the weapon may have gone first; we still preserve it in 'a bolt from the blue', a thunder-bolt, and 'a fool's bolt is soon shot', and we shoot the bolt of a door.
barm: this being the name of an object which would be familiar only to brewers and bakers, probably suffered from the discontinuance of family brewing and baking. It would no longer be familiar, and may possibly have felt the blurring effect of the ill-defined balm, which word also seems rarely used. In the South of England few persons now know what barm is.
arch: adj., probably obsolescent.
There are also examples of words with the affix a-, or initials simulating that affix, thus:
aby: lost in abide, with which it was confused.
abode = bode (? whether ever in common use).
accite: lost in excite.
assay: quite a common word, lost in say (?)
atone: lost in tone.
and thus attempt, attaint, attest, avail, all suffered from tempt, taint, test, veil, whereas attend seems to have destroyed tend.
Table of homophones that may seem to be presently falling out of use.[15]
ail.
alms.
ascent.
augur (v.).
barren.
bate.
bier.
bray (pound).
bridal.
broach.
casque.
cede.
cession.
cite.
clime.
corse.
cruse.
dene.
dun (colour).
desert.
fain.
fallow.
feign.
fell (skin).
flue (velu).
fray (sub.).
fry (small-).
gait.
gambol.
gin (snare).
gird (abuse).
gore (blood).
hart.
horde.
hue (colour).
isle.
lea.
lessen.
let (hinder).
lief.
main.
march (boundary).
meed.
mien.
mote.
mourn.
mute (of birds).
neat (animal).
ore.
pale (enclosure).
pall (v.).
pen (enclose).
pelt (skin).
pile (hair).
pink (v.).
pulse (pease).
quean.
rail (chide).
raze.
reave.
reck.
repair (resort).
rheum.
rood.
rue.
sack (v.).
sage (adj.).
sallow (willow).
sere.
soar.
spray (sprig).
still (adj. n.b. keep still).
stoup.
surge.
swift.
teem.
toil (snare).
vane.
van (fan).
vail (v.).
wage (war).
wain.
ween.
whit.
wight.
wile.
wrack.
wreak.
wot.
aught.
4. That the loss due to homophony threatens to impoverish the language.
New words are being added to the dictionary much faster than old words are passing out of use, but it is not a question of numbers nor of dictionaries. A chemist told me that if the world were packed all over with bottles as close as they could stand, he could put a different substance into each one and label it. And science is active in all her laboratories and will print her labels. If one should admit that as many as ninety-nine per cent. of these artificial names are neither literary nor social words, yet some of them are, since everything that comes into common use must have a name that is frequently spoken. Thus baik, sackereen, and mahjereen are truly new English word-sounds; and it may be, if we succumb to anarchical communism, that margarine and saccharine will be lauded by its dissolute mumpers as enthusiastically as men have hitherto praised and are still praising butter and honey. 'Bike' certainly would have already won a decent place in poetry had it been christened more gracefully and not nicknamed off to live in backyards with cab and bus. The whole subject of new terms is too vast to be parenthetically handled, and I hope that some one will deal with it competently in an early publication of the S.P.E. The question must here remain to be determined by the evidence of the words in the table of obsoletes, which I think is convincing; my overruling contention being that, however successful we may be in the coinage of new words (and we have no reason to boast of success) and however desirable it is to get rid of some of the bad useless homophones, yet we cannot afford to part with any old term that can conveniently be saved.
We have the best Bible in the world, and in Shakespeare the greatest poet; we have been suckled on those twin breasts, and our children must have degenerated if they need asses' milk. Nor is it only because the old is better than the new that we think thus. If we speak more proudly of Trafalgar than of Zeebrugge, it is not because Trafalgar is so far finer a sounding word than Zeebrugge, as indeed it is, nor because we believe that the men of Nelson's time were better than our men of to-day, we know they were not, but because the spirit that lives on ideals will honour its parents; and it is thinking in this way that makes noble action instinctive and easy. Nelson was present at Zeebrugge leading our sailors, as Shakespeare is with us leading our writers, and no one who neglects the rich inheritance to which Englishmen are born is likely ever to do any credit to himself or his country.
5. That the South English dialect is a direct and chief cause of homophones.
Evidence of Jones' dictionary.
Evidence of the present condition of our ruling educated speech in the South of England I shall take from Mr. Daniel Jones' dictionary,[16] the authority of which cannot, I think, be disputed. It is true that it represents a pronunciation so bad that its slovenliness is likely to be thought overdone, but there is no more exaggeration than any economical system of phonetic spelling is bound to show. It is indeed a strong and proper objection to all such simplifications that they are unable to exhibit the finer distinctions; but this must not imply that Mr. Jones' ear is lacking in delicate perception, or that he is an incompetent observer. If he says, as he does say, that the second syllable in the words obloquy and parasite are spoken by educated Londoners with the same vowel-sound (which he denotes by ə, that is the sound of er in the word danger), then it is true that they are so pronounced, or at least so similarly that a trained ear refuses to distinguish them [óblerquy, párersite].
To this an objector might fairly reply that Mr. Jones could distinguish the two sounds very well if it suited him to do so; but that, as it is impossible for him to note them in his defective phonetic script, he prefers to confuse them. I shall not lose sight of this point,[17] but here I will only say that, if there really is a difference between these two vowels in common talk, then if Mr. Jones can afford to disregard it it must be practically negligible, and other phoneticians will equally disregard it, as the Oxford Press has in its smaller dictionary.
Its trustworthiness.
I suppose that thirty years ago it would have been almost impossible to find any German who could speak English so well as to pass for a native: they spoke as Du Maurier delighted to represent them in Punch. During the late war, however, it has been no uncommon thing for a German soldier to disguise himself in English uniform and enter our trenches, relying on his mastery of our tongue to escape suspicion; and it was generally observed how many German prisoners spoke English like a native. Now this was wholly due to their having been taught Southern English on Mr. Jones' model and method.
Again, those who would repudiate the facts that I am about to reveal, and who will not believe that in their own careless talk they themselves actually pronounce the words very much as Mr. Jones prints them,[18] should remember that the sounds of speech are now mechanically recorded and reproduced, and the records can be compared; so that it would betray incompetence for any one in Mr. Jones' position to misrepresent the facts, as it would be folly in him to go to the trouble and expense of making such a bogus book as his would be were it untrue; nor could he have attained his expert reputation had he committed such a folly.
Again, and in support of the trustworthiness of the records, I am told by those concerned in the business that for some years past no Englishman could obtain employment in Germany as teacher of English unless he spoke the English vowels according to the standard of Mr. Jones' dictionary; and it was a recognized device, when such an appointment was being considered, to request the applicant to speak into a machine and send the record by post to the Continent; whereupon he was approved or not on that head by the agreement of the record with the standard which I am about to illustrate from the dictionary.
All these considerations make a strong case for the truth of Mr. Jones' representation of our 'standard English', and his book is the most trustworthy evidence at my disposal: but before exhibiting it I would premise that our present fashionable dialect is not to be considered as the wanton local creator of all the faults that Mr. Jones can parade before the eye. Its qualities have come together in various ways, nor are the leading characteristics of recent origin. I am convinced that our so-called standard English sprang actively to the fore in Shakespeare's time, that in the Commonwealth years our speech was in as perilous a condition as it is to-day, and at the Restoration made a self-conscious recovery, under an impulse very like that which is moving me at the present moment; for I do not look upon myself as expressing a personal conviction so much as interpreting a general feeling, shared I know by almost all who speak our tongue, Americans, Australians, Canadians, Irish, New Zealanders, and Scotch, whom I range alphabetically lest I should be thought to show prejudice or bias in any direction. But this is beyond the present purpose, which is merely to exhibit the tendency which this so-called degradation has to create homophones.
Mauling of words.
As no one will deny that homophones are to be made by mauling words, I will begin by a selection of words from Mr. Jones' dictionary showing what our Southern English is doing with the language. I shall give in the first column the word with its literary spelling, in the second Mr. Jones' phonetic representation of it, and in the third column an attempt to represent that sound to the eye of those who cannot read the phonetic script, using such makeshift spellings as may be found in any novel where the pronunciation of the different speakers is differentiated.
| parsonage. | pɑ:sn̥iʤ [-sn-] | pahs'nidge or pahsnidge. |
| picture. | pikʧə | pictsher. |
| scriptural. | skripʧərəl | scriptshererl or scriptshrl. |
| temperature. | tempriʧə | tempritsher. |
| interest. | intrist | intrist. |
| senator. | senitə and senətor | senniter and sennertor. |
| blossoming. | blɔsəmiŋ | blosserming. |
| natural. | næʧrəl | natshrerl or natshrl. |
| orator. | ɔrətə | orrerter. |
| rapturous. | ræpʧərəs | raptsherers or raptshrers. |
| parasite. | pærəsait | parrersite. |
| obloquy. | ɔbləkwi | oblerquy. |
| syllogise. | siləʤaiz | sillergize. |
| equivocal. | ikwivəkəl | ikwívverk'l. |
| immaterial. | imətiəriəl | immertierierl. |
| miniature. | miniʧə | minnitsher. |
| extraordinary. | ikstrɔ:dnri | ikstrordnry. |
| salute. | səlu:t [-lju:-] | serloot and serlute. |
| solution. | səlu:ʃən [-lju:-] | serloosh'n and serlūsh'n. |
| subordinate (adj.). | səbɔ:dn̥it | serbord'nit. |
| sublime. | səblaim | serblime. |
In culling these flowers of speech I was not blind to their great picturesque merits, but they must not be taken for jokes, at least they must not be thought of as conjuring smiles on the faces of Messrs. Jones, Michaelis and Rippmann: they are deadly products of honest study and method, and serious evidence whereby any one should be convinced that such a standard of English pronunciation is likely to create homophones: and yet in searching the dictionary I have not found it guilty of many new ones.[20] For examples of homophones due to our 'standard' speech one might take first the 20 wh- words (given on page [14]) which have lost their aspirate, and with them the 9 wr- words: next the 36 words in table iv and note, which have lost their trilled R: and then the 41 words from table vi on page [15]; and that would start us with some 100 words, the confusion of which is due to our Southern English pronunciation, since the differentiation of all these words is still preserved in other dialects. The differentiation of these 100 words would of course liberate their twins, so the total number of gains should be doubled.
Example of one class.
But number is not so important as the quality and frequency of the words involved, so I will instance one class in detail, namely the words in which aw and or are confused. Here are a dozen of them:
core = caw.
door = daw*.
floor = flaw*.
hoar* = haw.
lore* = law.
more = maw*.
oar, ore = awe*.
pore = paw.
roar = raw.
soar, sore = saw, saw.
tore = taw.
yore* = yaw.
Of these 12 words, 6 exhibit stages or symptoms of obsolescence. I should think it extremely unlikely that yore has been in any way incommoded by yaw; and flaw, which is now more or less cornered to one of its various meanings, was probably affected more by its own ambiguities than by floor; but others seem to be probable examples: shaw and lore, and I think maw, are truly obsoletes, while hoar and daw are heard only in combination. Awe is heard only in awful, and has there lost its significance. I should guess that this accident has strengthened its severity in literature, where it asserts its aloofness sometimes with a full spelling [aweful] as in speech two pronunciations are recognized, awful and awf'l.
Now how do these words appear in Jones' dictionary? If there is to be any difference between the aw and ore sounds either the R must be trilled as it still is in the north, or some vestige of it must be indicated, and such indication would be a lengthening of the o (=aw) sound by the vestigial voicing of the lost trill, such as is indicated in the word o'er, and might be roughly shown to the eye by such a spelling as shawer for shore [thus shaw would be ʃɔ: and shore would be ʃɔ:ə] and such distinction is still made by our more careful Southern English speakers, and is recognized as an existent variant by Jones.
Since the circumflex accent properly indicates a rise and fall of voice-pitch on a vowel-sound such as almost makes a disyllable of a monosyllable (e.g. in Milton's verse the word power may fill either one or two places in the line) I will adopt it here to denote this fuller and differentiating pronunciation of ore.
Now to all these words, and to the finals of such words as ad[ore], impl[ore], ign[ore], Jones gives the diphthongal aw as the normal South English pronunciation, and he allows the longer [ore] sound only as a variant, putting this variant in the second place.
Hence, all these [ore] words are being encouraged to cast off the last remnant of their differentiation, which it is admitted that they have not yet quite lost.[21]
6. That the mischief is being propagated by phoneticians.
The use of phonetics in education.
The phoneticians are doing useful work in supplying an educational need. By the phonetic system any spoken language can now be learned quickly and easily, just as by the sol-fa system the teaching of music was made easy and simple. If a clergyman who had no practical knowledge of music were offered the post of minor canon in a cathedral, he would find it very difficult to qualify himself passably, whereas any village schoolboy could learn all the music necessary for such an office, and learn that solidly too and soundly and durably, in a few lessons, truly in a few hours, by the sol-fa method. The principle is the same in music and in speech, namely to have a distinct symbol for every separate sound; in music it is a name, the idea of which quickly becomes indissociable from the note of the scale which it indicates; in phonetics it is a written letter, which differs from the units of our literary alphabet only in this, that it has but one meaning and interpretation, and really is what all letters were originally intended to be. When you see it you know what it means.
Its general adoption certain.
The principle is but common sense, and practice confirms its validity. I am persuaded that as soon as competition has exposed the advantages which it ensures, not only in the saving of time, but in the rescuing of English children from the blighting fog through which their tender minds are now forced to struggle on the first threshold of life,[22] then all spoken languages will be taught on that method. What now chiefly hinders its immediate introduction is not so much the real difficulty of providing a good simple system, as the false fear that all our literature may take on the phonetic dress; and this imagination is frightful enough to be a bugbear to reasonable people, although, so far as one can see, there is no more danger of this result than there is of all music appearing in sol-fa notation.
Demand of the market.
Now here is a promising field for adventure. Not only is the creation of a new fount of type an elaborate and expensive process, but the elaboration of a good system and its public recognition when produced involve much time; so that any industrial company that is early in the market with a complete apparatus and a sufficient reputation will carry all before it, and be in a position to command and secure great monetary profit.
There is no doubt that the field is now strongly held by the Anglo-Prussian society which Mr. Jones represents.[23]
In the preceding section Mr. Jones' dictionary was taken as authority for the actual condition of Southern English pronunciation. It must now be considered in its other aspect, namely as the authoritative phonetic interpretation of our speech; my contention being that it is a wrong and mischievous interpretation.
It is difficult to keep these two questions quite apart. The first, which was dealt with in Section 5, was that Southern English is actively productive of homophones. This present Section 6 is contending that the mischief is being encouraged and propagated by the phoneticians, and Mr. Jones' books are taken as an example of their method.
Fault of Mr. Jones' method.
The reason why the work of these phoneticians is so mischievous is that they have chosen too low a standard of pronunciation.
The defence that they would make would be something like this.
They might argue with some confidence, and not without a good show of reason, that the actual 'vernacular' talk of the people is the living language of any country: they would allege that a spoken language is always changing, and always will change; that the actual condition of it is the only scientific, and indeed the only possible basis for any system of tuition; and that it is better to be rather in advance of change than behind it, since the changes proceed inevitably by laws which education has no power to resist, nay, so inevitably that science can in some measure foresee the future.
This would, I suppose, fairly represent Mr. Jones' contention. Indeed, he plainly asserts that his work is merely a record of existing facts, and he even says that he chose Southern English because it is most familiar and observable, and therefore capable of providing him with sufficient phenomena: and he might say that what I call 'low' in his standard is only the record of a stage of progression which I happen to dislike or have not nearly observed. And yet the argument is full of fallacies: and the very position that he assumes appears to me to be unsound. It is well enough to record a dialect, nor will any one grudge him credit for his observation and diligence, but to reduce a dialect to theoretic laws and then impose those laws upon the speakers of it is surely a monstrous step. And in this particular instance the matter is complicated by the fact that Southern English is not truly a natural dialect; Mr. Jones himself denotes it as P.S.P.=Public School Pronunciation, and that we know to be very largely a social convention dependent on fashion and education, and inasmuch as it is a product of fashion and education it is not bound by the theoretical laws which Mr. Jones would attribute to it; while for the same reason it is unfortunately susceptible of being affected by them, if they should be taught with authority. These phoneticians would abuse a false position which they have unwarrantably created. This Southern English, this P.S.P., is a 'fashionable' speech, fashionable that is in two senses; and Mr. Jones would fashion it.
judged by practical effects.
But I wish to put my case practically, and, rather than argue, I would ask what are the results of learning English on Mr. Jones' system? What would be the condition of a man who had learnt in this way?
His three styles.
I shall assume that the pupil has learnt his pronunciation from the dictionary, the nature of which is now known to my readers: but they should also know that Mr. Jones recognizes and teaches three different styles, which he calls the A, B, and C styles, 'A, the pronunciation suitable for recitation or reading in public; B, the pronunciation used in careful conversation, or reading aloud in private; and C, the pronunciation used in rapid conversation.'
In a polemic against Mr. Jones his adversary has therefore to combat a dragon with three heads, and the heroic method would be to strike all three of them off at one blow. To effect this it seems to me that one has only to remark that a system which is forced to teach a dialect ipso facto condemned. This objection I will establish presently; at present I am content to confine my attention to one head, for I maintain that in practice those who will take the trouble to learn three forms of one speech must be a negligible number; the practical pupils will generally be content to master one, and that will, no doubt, be the highly recommended style B, and its corresponding dictionary; they will rule out A and C as works of supererogation; and indeed those would be needless if B were satisfactory.
In deliberate repititions.
So, then, we are asking what is the condition of a man who has learned the dictionary standard?
(1) In common talk if we speak so indistinctly as not to be understood, we repeat our sentence with a more careful articulation. As Sweet used to say, the only security against the decay of language through careless articulation into absolute unintelligibility is the personal inconvenience of having to repeat your words when you are indistinctly heard. 'What' leaps out from the dictionary with a shout to the rescue of all his fellows. And when you have experienced this warcry 'what? what?' oftener than you like, you will raise the standard of your pronunciation (just as you would raise your voice to a deaf listener) merely to save yourself trouble, even though you were insensible to the shame of the affront.
In asseveration.
And this more careful articulation obtains also in all asseveration. A speaker who wishes to provoke attention to any particular statement or sentiment will speak the words by which he would convey it more slowly and with more careful articulation than the rest of his utterance.
Under both these common conditions the man who has learned only the vernacular of Mr. Jones' phonetics has no resource but to emphasize with all their full horrors words like seprit, sin'kerpate, din'ersty, ernoin't, mis'ernthrope, sym'perthy, mel'ernkerly, mel'erdy, serspe'ct, erno'y, &c.[24], which when spoken indistinctly in careless talk may pass muster, but when accurately articulated are not only vulgar and absurd, but often unrecognizable.
In public speaking.
(2) Again, public speakers use a pronunciation very different from that in the dictionary, and Mr. Jones admits this and would teach it sepritly as 'style A'. But it is wrong to suppose that its characteristics are a mere fashion or a pedantic regard for things obsolete, or a nice rhetorical grace, though Mr. Jones will have it to be mostly artificial, 'due to well-established, though perhaps somewhat arbitrary rules laid down by teachers of elocution'. The basis of it is the need of being heard and understood, together with the experience that style B will not answer that purpose. The main service, no doubt, of a teacher of elocution is to instruct in the management of the voice (clergyman's sore throat is a recognized disease of men who use their voice wrongly); but a right pronunciation is almost equally necessary and important.
Now if public speakers really have to learn something different from their habitual pronunciation, Mr. Jones is right in making a separate style of it, and he is also justified in the degraded forms of his style B, for those are what these speakers have to unlearn; nor is any fault to be found with his diligent and admirable analysis.
These two practical considerations expose the situation sufficiently: we may now face the triple-tongued dragon and exhibit how a single whiff of common sense will tumble all his three heads in the dust.
The natural right method.
The insideoutness, topsy-turviness, and preposterousness of Mr. Jones' method is incredible. In the natural order of things, children would be taught a careful 'high standard' articulation as a part of their elemental training, when in their pliant age they are mastering the co-ordinations which are so difficult to acquire later. Then when they have been educated to speak correctly, their variation from that full pronunciation is a natural carelessness, and has the grace of all natural behaviour, and it naturally obeys whatever laws have been correctly propounded by phoneticians; since it is itself the phenomena from which those laws are deduced. This carelessness or ease of speech will vary naturally in all degrees according to occasion, and being dependent on mood and temper will never go wrong. It is warm and alive with expression of character, and may pass quite unselfconsciously from the grace of negligence to the grace of correctness, for it has correctness at command, having learned it, and its carelessness has not been doctored and bandaged; and this ease of unselfconsciousness is one of the essentials of human intercourse: a man talking fluently does not consider what words he will use, he does not often remember exactly what words he has used, nor will he know at all how he pronounces them; his speech flows from him as his blood flows when his flesh is wounded.
What Mr. Jones would substitute.
What would Mr. Jones' system substitute for this natural grace? In place of a wide scale of unconscious variation he provides his pupils with 'three styles', three different fixed grades of pronunciation,[25] which they must apply consciously as suits the occasion. At dinner you might be called on to talk to a bishop across the table in your best style B, or to an archbishop even in your A1, when you were talking to your neighbours in your best C.—/ Nature would no doubt assert herself and secure a fair blend; but none the less, the three styles are plainly alternatives and to some extent mutually exclusive, whereas natural varieties are harmoniously interwoven and essentially one.
Argumentative analogies are commonly chosen because they are specious rather than just; but there is one here which I cannot forbear. If a system like Mr. Jones' were adopted in teaching children to write, we should begin by collecting and comparing all the careless and hasty handwritings of the middle class and deduce from them the prevalent forms of the letters in that state of degradation. From this we should construct in our 'style B' the alphabet which we should contend to be the genuine natural product of inevitable law, and hallowed by 'general use', and this we should give to our children to copy and learn, relegating the more carefully formed writing to a 'style A, taught by writing masters', explaining that its 'peculiarities' were 'modifications produced involuntarily as the result of writing more slowly or endeavouring to write more distinctly', &c.[26]
I believe that there has never been in Europe a fluent script so beautiful and legible as that of our very best English writers of to-day. But their æsthetic mastery has come from loving study of the forms that conscious artistry had perfected, and through a constant practice in their harmonious adaptation.
Finally, it may be worth while to raise the question how it can be that a man of Mr. Jones' extreme competence in his science should commit himself to a position that appears so false and mischievous.
Reason of present discredit of phonetics.
The unpopularity of phonetics is not wholly undeserved: from its early elements, the comfortably broad distinctions of convincing importance, it has progressed to a stage of almost infinite differentiations and subtleties; and when machinery was called in to dispose of controversy, a new and unsuspected mass of baffling detail was revealed.
The subject cannot be treated parenthetically, nor am I capable of summarizing it; but it seems clear that the complexity of the science has driven off public sympathy and dashed the confidence of scholars, withdrawing thereby some of the wholesome checks that common sense might else have imposed on its practical exponents. The experts thus left to themselves in despair of any satisfactory solution, are likely enough to adopt the simplifications most agreeable to their present ideas, and measure the utility of such simplifications by the accidental conveniences of their own science, independently of other considerations.
The practical difficulty.
The main practical difficulty which they have to meet in providing a reasonably satisfactory phonetic script or type for the English language is this, that the symbols of their alphabet must not greatly exceed in number those of the literary alphabet, whereas the sounds that they have to indicate do greatly exceed.
This discrepancy might be overcome by the use of what are called 'diacritical' marks, but here the universal prejudice against accents in English is forbidding, and it is true that even if printers did not rebel against them, they are yet distasteful and deterrent to readers out of all proportion to their complexity.
The result of Mr. Jones' solution.
The true condition of modified vowels, &c.
Mr. Jones no doubt allowed himself as much liberty as he could venture on, but to what has this paucity and choice of symbols led him? It has led him to assert and teach that an unaccented vowel in English retains no trace of its proper quality[27]: that is, that you cannot, or at least do not, modify an unaccented vowel; you either pronounce a, e, o, u, distinctly, or you must substitute an alien sound, generally 'er', or in some consonantal positions a short 'i'. Thus we have parersite, oblerquy, ikse'pt, ikspre'ss, iqua'ter, peri'sherner, perli'ce, spe'sherlize, pin'erkl, Mes'esperta'mier, &c., and one of his examples, which he advances with the confidence of complete satisfaction, is the name Margate, which he asserts is pronounced Margit,[28] that is, with a short i. The vowel is no doubt short, and its shortness is enforced by its being closed by a t: but it is not a short i, it is an extremely hastened and therefore disguised form of the original and proper diphthong ei (heard in bait and gate); and the true way to write it phonetically would be ei, with some diacritical sign to show that it was obscured. There is no long vowel or diphthong in English which cannot in some positions be pronounced short; and when hurried over between accents it is easy to see that there is nothing, except an obstacle of consonants, which can prevent the shortening of any syllable; for long and short are relative, and when you are speaking very slowly 'short' sounds actually occupy as much time as 'long' sounds do when you are speaking quickly. You have therefore only to suppose a speed of utterance somewhat out of scale; and this is just what happens. In the second syllable of Margate the diphthong is hastened and obscured, but a trace of its quality remains, and will more distinctly appear as you speak the word slower. And so in the case of unaccented short vowels that are hurried over between the accents in talking, they are disguised and lose quality, but in good speakers a trace of the original sound will remain (as in parasite and obloquy), where, on the ground of indistinctness, Mr. Jones introduces the symbol of an alien unrelated sound, a sound, that is, which is distinctly wrong instead of being indistinctly right: and this fault vitiates all his books. Economy of symbols has led him to perversity of pronunciation.[29]
7. On the claim that Southern English has to represent all British speech.
On this head certainly I can write nothing worth reading. Whether there is any one with so wide a knowledge of all the main different forms of English now spoken, their historic development and chief characteristics, as to be able to summarize the situation convincingly, I do not know. I can only put a few of the most evident phenomena in the relation in which they happen to affect my judgement.
And first of all I put the small local holding which the Southern English dialect can claim on the map of the British Empire. It is plain that with such a narrow habitat it must show proof that it possesses very great relative superiorities before it can expect to be allowed even a hearing: and such a claim must lie in its superiority in some practical or ideal quality: further than that it might allege that it was the legitimate heir of our great literature, and in possession of the citadel, and in command of an extensive machinery for its propaganda.
Now, in my opinion it could not establish any one of these claims except the last, namely its central position and wide machinery.
I do not pretend to foresee the future, nor even to desire it in any particular form; but it seems to me probable that if the 'P.S.P.' continues its downward course as indicated by Mr. Jones, then, unless everything else worsens with it, so that it might maintain its relative flotation in a general confusion, it must fall to be disesteemed and repudiated, and give place to one or more other dialects which, by having better preserved the distinctions of pronunciation, will be not only more convenient vehicles of intercourse, but more truthful and intelligible interpreters of our great literature; and I believe this to be well illustrated by the conditions of our 'S.E.' homophones: and that something better should win the first place, I hold to be the most desirable of possible events. But perhaps our 'S.E.' is not yet so far committed to the process of decay as to be incapable of reform, and the machinery that we use for penetration may be used as well for organizing a reform and for enforcing it. There is as much fashion as inevitable law in our 'P.S.P.' or 'S.E.' talk, and if the fashion for a better, that is a more distinct and conservative, pronunciation should set in, then at the cost of a little temporary self-consciousness we might, in one generation, or at least in two, have things again very much as they were in Shakespeare's day. It is true that men are slaves to the naturalness of what is usual with them, and unable to imagine that the actual living condition of things in their own time is evanescent: nor do even students and scholars see that in the Elizabethan literature we have a perdurable gigantic picture which, among all stages of change, will persistently reassert itself, while any special characteristics of our own day, which seem so unalterable to us, are only a movement, which may no doubt be determining the next movement, but will leave no other trace of itself, at least no more than the peculiarities of the age of Queen Anne have left to us.
I have been told that the German experts believe that the Cockney form of English will eventually prevail. This surprising opinion may rest on scientific grounds, but it seems to me that Cockney speech will be too universally unintelligible; and, should it actively develop, will be so out of relation with other and older forms of English as to be unable to compete.
I wish and hope that the subject of this section may provoke some expert to deal thoroughly with it. The strong feeling in America, in Australia, and in New Zealand, to say nothing of the proud dialects of our own islands, is in support of the common-sense view of the matter which I have here expressed.