Questions at Issue in Our English Speech

by Edwin W. Bowen

It remains to notice some apparent exceptions to the rule of English orthography stated above. Noteworthy among these are the words handicapped and kidnapped, which are written alike in British and American English. But they can be explained and are only apparent exceptions. A moment’s reflection is sufficient to convince one that handicap and kidnap are not simple words, but in reality compounds in which the last element has not completely lost its identity in combination. Because of the consciousness of the independent words cap and nap in these compounds, they conform to the rule as a matter of fact and therefore double the final consonant, on the addition of a suffix beginning with a vowel. Hence, if they are exceptions, they must be considered exceptions which prove the rule.

The few points we have drawn attention to in this imperfect little sketch are enough to show how unphonetic and illogical is our English spelling. Many of the eccentricities of our orthography, according to Skeat, have resulted from the futile attempts of pedants in the sixteenth century to make English spelling etymological and to make it conform to the classics, from which a vast multitude of words had been introduced into our speech. These conscious attempts at etymological spelling gave rise to endless confusion and disorder. But other causes, such as analogy and mere caprice, also contributed to this end. Thus we are to explain the writing of the word female, for example. This word, coming from the Latin femella through the French femelle into English, was originally written femelle and would probably have retained this form to the present time. But because of a fancied connection with the word male, the spelling was changed to female. In a similar manner is to be explained the spelling of numerous other words in our language which seem perfectly natural and logical on first blush.

AUTHORITY IN ENGLISH PRONUNCIATION.

For wellnigh two centuries a popular belief has prevailed throughout the English-speaking world that there should be a standard of pronunciation, which should be followed in all those countries where English is the native tongue. Many people, holding this view, assume that some such norm is unconsciously observed by men of education and culture, who, because of their influence and rank, are generally conceded the right to establish the customs of speech. It is but natural, therefore, that men with greater or less claim to culture and education should take it upon themselves from time to time to determine the supposed standard of pronunciation. Thus as far back as the beginning of the eighteenth century we find that the orthoepists of that period undertook to ascertain and record the pronunciation of English as practised in polite society.

Now, the early orthoepists discovered, apparently to their astonishment, that English pronunciation, even in the most cultured circles, far from being fixed by ironclad rules, was quite an elastic thing, allowing considerable latitude. Indeed, two centuries ago pronunciation in English, as reflected by the best usage, was no more uniform than it is to-day. Then as now, men recognized no fixed and absolute standard of English pronunciation. They followed their own tastes and individual preferences, despite the orthoepical suggestions and recommendations of their contemporaries. Prejudice and caprice, too, in those days, as in the present time, were factors to be reckoned with, so that the path of the would-be authority on pronunciation was beset with no slight difficulty.

It must not be inferred, however, that the orthoepists themselves were a unit and in perfect harmony as to current usage. On the contrary, they were frequently far apart in recording the pronunciation sanctioned by the best society and differed quite as much as their worthy successors of the present day. They sometimes indulged in vituperation and severe censure at each others’ expense and made no attempt to conceal their disapproval of a rival’s authority, which they expressed in plain, vigorous Anglo-Saxon. Some of their sarcastic remarks furnish spicy and entertaining reading to the student who is willing to plod his way through the dreary waste of those forgotten dust-covered tomes.

The most conspicuous among the eighteenth century orthoepists were Baily, Johnson, Buchanan, Sheridan and Walker. Some of these were Scotch, and some Irish, and some, of course, English. Quite naturally it struck the fancy of an Englishman as somewhat humorous, not to say absurd, for an Irishman or a Scotchman to pose as an authority on English pronunciation. So the damaging taunt of foreign nationality and consequent lack of acquaintance with English usage was flaunted in the face of Buchanan and Sheridan, natives of Scotland and Ireland, respectively.

When Doctor Johnson was informed of Sheridan’s plan of producing an English dictionary that was designed to indicate the pronunciation of each word, he ridiculed the idea of an Irishman’s presuming to teach Englishmen how to speak their native language as utterly absurd. “Why, Sir,” growled the autocrat of eighteenth century literature, “my dictionary shows you the accent of words, if you can but remember them.” Then on being reminded that his dictionary does not give the pronunciation of the vowels, “Why, Sir,” continued he, in his characteristic surly manner, “consider how much easier it is to learn a language by the ear than by any marks. Sheridan’s dictionary may do very well; but you can not always carry it about with you; and when you want the word, you have not the dictionary. It is like the man who has a sword that will not draw. It is an admirable sword, to be sure; but while your enemy is cutting your throat, you are unable to use it. Besides, Sir, what entitles Sheridan to fix the pronunciation of English? He has, in the first place, the disadvantage of being an Irishman; and if he says he will fix it after the example of the best company, why they differ among themselves. I remember an instance: when I published the plan of my dictionary, Lord Chesterfield told me that the word great should be pronounced to rhyme to state; and Sir William Yonge sent me word that it should be pronounced so as to rhyme to seat, and that none but Irishmen would pronounce it grait. Now, here were two men of the highest rank, the one the best speaker in the House of Lords, the other the best speaker in the House of Commons, differing entirely.”

As this quotation shows clearly and forcibly, even the usage of the very best speakers in England in the eighteenth century was far from uniform and harmonious, as has been intimated in the opening paragraph. Moreover, it is evident from the striking illustration Johnson uses that English pronunciation must have varied much more two centuries ago than it does to-day; for no two speakers of national reputation, such as the leaders of the two chambers of Parliament presumably must have been, would differ so radically at the present time in their pronunciation. The truth is, in those good old days men paid but little attention either to pronunciation or to spelling. It is a fact not so widely known as it deserves to be, that English orthography two centuries ago was just emerging from a state of confusion and chaos; and law and order were then for the first time beginning to appear. The result is the conventional spelling which only since the eighteenth century has been stereotyped in the form now so familiar to all educated people. And not even yet, as we know, has English orthography had its perfect work. As late as Doctor Johnson’s time, the spelling of many English words had not yet been crystallized, and not a few words could be spelled in two distinct ways, either of which was recognized as correct. For instance, the spelling of soap, cloak, choke and fuel, to select only a few examples, as recorded in his dictionary, vacillated between “sope,” “cloke,” “choak,” “fewel” and the present accepted spelling of these words. These variant spellings, long since rejected, now seem to us either attempts at phonetic spelling or quaint and curious imitations of Chaucerian orthography. Having discussed elsewhere[8] the subject of English spelling, I dismiss the matter here with this passing reference.

The crystallized form of English spelling which has been brought about mainly through the influence of the printing-press in the last few centuries we accept as a matter of course, little thinking of the difficulties innumerable which the printer and the “gentle” reader encountered three centuries ago. But the very existence of a standard orthography, as a moment’s reflection will show, has necessitated as its indispensable adjunct the pronouncing dictionary.