An Apotheosis and rights divine,
but 'Rejected Addresses' should still carry weight. In the burlesque couplet, ascribed in the first edition to the younger Colman and afterwards transferred to Theodore Hook, we have
That John and Mrs. Bull from ale and tea-houses
May shout huzza for Punch's apotheosis.
It need hardly be said that 'tea-houses' like 'grandfathers' has the stress on the antepenultimate.
There are other words of Greek origin which now break the rules, though I believe the infringement to be quite modern. First we have the class beginning with proto. It can hardly be doubted that our ancestors followed rule and said 'prŏtocol', and 'prŏtotype', and I suspect also 'prŏtomartyr'. There seems, however, to be a general agreement nowadays to keep the Greek omega. As for 'protagonist' the word is so technical and is often so ludicrously misunderstood that writers on the Greek drama would do well to retain the Greek termination and say 'protagonistes'; for 'protagonist' is very commonly mistaken and used for the opposite of 'antagonist'.
Next come words beginning with hypo or hyph. In a disyllable the vowel is long by the 'apex' rule, as in 'hyphen'. In longer words it should be short. So once it was, and we still say 'hypocaust', 'hypocrit', 'hypochondria' (whence 'hypped'), 'hypothesis', and others, but a large group of technical and scientific words seems determined to have a long y. It looks as though there were a belief that y is naturally long, though the French influence which gives us 'tȳrant' does not extend to 'tyranny'. I do not know what Mr. Hardy calls his poem, but I hope he follows the old use and calls it 'The Dy̆nasts'. It might be thought that 'dy̆nasty' was safe, but it is not. Some modern words like 'dynamite' have been misused from their birth.
Another class begins with hydro- from the Greek word for water. None of them seem to be very old, but probably 'hydraulic' began life with a short y. Surely Mrs. Malaprop, when she meant 'hysterics' and said 'hydrostatics', must have used the short y. Of course 'hydra' which comes from the same root follows the 'apex' rule.
Words beginning with hyper- seem nowadays always to have a long y except that one sometimes hears 'hy̆perbole' and 'hy̆perbolical'. Of course both in hypo- and in hyper- the vowel is short in Greek, so that here at least the strange lengthening cannot be ascribed to the Grecians. The false theory of a long y has not affected 'cynic' or 'cynical', while 'Cyril' has been saved by being a Christian name. We may yet hope to retain y short in 'cylinder', 'cynosure', 'lycanthropy', 'mythology', 'pyramid', 'pyrotechnic', 'sycamore', 'synonym', 'typical'. As for 'hȳbrid' it seems as much a caprice as 'ācrid', a pronunciation often heard. Though 'acrid' is a false formation it ought to follow 'vivid' and 'florid'. The 'alias' rule enforces a long y in 'hygiene' and 'hygienic'.
On the matter of Greek names the lettern and the pulpit are grievous offenders. Once it was not so. The clergymen of the old type and the scholars of the Oxford Retrogression said Tĭmōthĕŭs, because they had a sense of English and followed, consciously or unconsciously, the 'alias' rule. If there was ever an error, it was on the lips of some illiterate literate who made three syllables of the word. Now it seems fashionable to say Tīmŏthĕŭs. The literate was better than this, for he at least had no theory, and frank ignorance is to be forgiven. It is no shame to a man not to know that the second i in 'Villiers' is as mute as that in 'Parliament' or that Bolingbroke's name began with Bull and ended with brook, but when ignorance constructs a theory it is quite another matter. The etymological theory of pronunciation is intolerable. Etymology was a charming nymph even when men had but a distant acquaintance with her, and a nearer view adds to her graces; but when she is dragged reluctant from her element she flops like a stranded mermaid. The curate says 'Deuteronómy', and on his theory ought to say 'económy' and 'etymológy'. When Robert Gomery—why not give the reverend poetaster his real if less elegant name—published his once popular work, every one called it 'The Omnípresence of the Deïty', and Shelley had already written