The late Mr. B.B. Rogers in his translations of Aristophanes has of course no other pronunciation. His verses are too good to be spoiled by what began as a vulgarism. Another equally recent vulgarism, not recognized by the N.E.D. and bad enough to make George Russell turn in his grave, is 'mágazine' for 'magazíne'. It is not yet common, but such vulgarisms are apt to climb.
In times not quite so recent the word 'prophecy' has changed, not indeed its stress, but the quantity of its final vowel. When Alford wrote 'The Queen's English', every one lengthened the last vowel, as in the verb, nor do I remember any other pronunciation in my boyhood. Now the N.E.D. gives the short vowel only. Alford to his own satisfaction accounted for the long vowel by the diphthong ei of the Greek. It is to be feared that his explanation would involve 'dynastȳ' and 'policȳ', even if it did not oblige us to turn 'Pompey' into 'Pompȳ'. In this case it may be suspected that the noun was assimilated to the verb, which follows the analogy of 'magnify' and 'multiply'. The voice of the people which now gives us 'prophecy̆' seems here to have felt the power of analogy and assuredly will prevail.
On proper names.
It is to be hoped that except in reading Latin and Greek texts we shall keep to the traditional pronunciation of proper names as it is enshrined in our poetry and other literature. We must continue to lengthen the stressed penultimate vowel in Athos, Cato, Draco, Eros, Hebrus, Lichas, Nero, Otho, Plato, Pylos, Remus, Samos, Titus, Venus, and the many other disyllables wherein it was short in the ancient tongues. On the other hand we shall shorten the originally long stressed antepenultimate vowel in Brasidas, Euripides, Icarus, Lavinia, Lucilius, Lydia, Nicias, Onesimus, Pegasus, Pyramus, Regulus, Romulus, Scipio, Sisyphus, Socrates, Thucydides, and many more.
Quin, and the actors of his day, used to give to the first vowel in 'Cato' the sound of the a in 'father'. They probably thought that they were Italianizing such names. In fact their use was neither Latin nor English. They were like the men of to-day who speak of the town opposite Dover as 'Cally', a name neither French nor English. A town which once sent members to the English Parliament has a right to an English name. Prior rhymed it with 'Alice' and Browning has
When Fortune's malice
Lost her Calais.
Shakespeare, of course, spelt it 'Callis', and this form, which was first evicted by Pope, whom other editors servilely followed, ought to be restored to Shakespeare's text. In the pronunciation of Cato the stage regained the English diphthong in the mouth of Garrick, whose good sense was often in evidence. It is recorded that his example was not at once followed in Scotland or Ireland. If there was any Highlander on the stage it may be hoped that he gave to the vowel the true Latin sound as it appears in 'Mactavish'.
A once well-known schoolmaster, a correspondent of Conington's, had a daughter born to him whom in his unregenerate days he christened Rosa. At a later time he became a purist in quantities, and then he shortened the o and took the voice out of the s and spoke of her and to her as Rossa. The mother and the sisters refused to acknowledge what they regarded as a touch of shamrock and clung persistently to the English flower. The good gentleman did not call his son Solōmon,[2] though this is the form which ought to be used by those who turn the traditional English 'Elkănah' into 'Elkānah', 'Abăna' into 'Abāna', and 'Zebŭlun' into 'Zebūlun'. If they do not know
Poor Elkănah, all other troubles past,