The other reason given to vindicate the polite pronunciation, is euphony. But I must say with Kenrick,[75] I cannot discover the euphony; on the contrary, the pronunciation is to me both disagreeable and difficult. It is certainly more difficult to pronounce two consonants than one. Ch, or, which is the same thing, tsh, is a more difficult sound than t; and dzh, or j, more difficult than d. Any accurate ear may perceive the difference in a single word, as in natur, nachur. But when two or three words meet, in which we have either of these compound sounds, the difficulty becomes very obvious; as the nachural feachurs of indivijuals. The difficulty is increased, when two of these churs and jurs occur in the same word. Who can pronounce these words, "at this junctshur it was conjectshured"—or "the act passed in a tshumultshuous legislatshur," without a pause, or an extreme exertion of the lungs? If this is euphony to an English ear, I know not what sounds in language can be disagreeable. To me it is barbarously harsh and unharmonious.
But supposing the pronunciation to be relished by ears accustomed to it (for custom will familiarize any thing) will the pleasure which individuals experience, balance the ill effects of creating a multitude of irregularities? Is not the number of anomalies in our language already sufficient, without an arbitrary addition of many hundreds? Is not the difference between our written and spoken language already sufficiently wide, without changing the sounds of a number of consonants?
If we attend to the irregularities which have been long established in our language, we shall find most of them in the Saxon branch. The Roman tongue was almost perfectly regular, and perhaps its orthography and pronunciation were perfectly correspondent. But it is the peculiar misfortune of the fashionable practice of pronouncing d, t, and s, before u, that it destroys the analogy and regularity of the Roman branch of our language; for those consonants are not changed in many words of Saxon original. Before this affectation prevailed, we could boast of a regular orthography in a large branch of our language; but now the only class of words, which had preserved a regular construction, are attacked, and the correspondence between the spelling and pronunciation, destroyed, by those who ought to have been the first to oppose the innovation.[76]
Should this practice be extended to all words, where d, t and s precede u, as it must before it can be consistent or defensible, it would introduce more anomalies into our tongue, than were before established, both in the orthography and construction. What a perverted taste, and what a singular ambition must those men possess, who, in the day light of civilization and science, and in the short period of an age, can go farther in demolishing the analogies of an elegant language, than their unlettered ancestors proceeded in centuries, amidst the accidents of a savage life, and the shocks of numerous invasions!
But it will be replied, Custom is the legislator of language, and custom authorizes the practice I am reprobating. A man can hardly offer a reason, drawn from the principles of analogy and harmony in a language, but he is instantly silenced with the decisive, jus et norma loquendi.[77]
What then is custom? Some writer has already answered this question; "Custom is the plague of wise men and the idol of fools." This was probably said of those customs and fashions which are capricious and varying; for there are many customs, founded on propriety, which are permanent and constitute laws.
But what kind of custom did Horace design to lay down as the standard of speaking? Was it a local custom? Then the keow of New England; the oncet and twicet of Pennsylvania and Maryland; and the keind and skey of the London theaters, form rules of speaking. Is it the practice of a court, or a few eminent scholars and orators, that he designed to constitute a standard? But who shall determine what body of men forms this uncontrollable legislature? Or who shall reconcile the differences at court? For these eminent orators often disagree. There are numbers of words in which the most eminent men differ: Can all be right? Or what, in this case, is the custom which is to be our guide?
Besides these difficulties, what right have a few men, however elevated their station, to change a national practice? They may say, that they consult their own ears, and endeavor to please themselves. This is their only apology, unless they can prove that the changes they make are real improvements. But what improvement is there in changing the sounds of three or four letters into others, and thus multiplying anomalies, and encreasing the difficulty of learning a language? Will not the great body of the people claim the privilege of adhering to their ancient usages, and believing their practice to be the most correct? They most undoubtedly will.
If Horace's maxim is ever just, it is only when custom is national; when the practice of a nation is uniform or general. In this case it becomes the common law of the land, and no one will dispute its propriety. But has any man a right to deviate from this practice, and attempt to establish a singular mode of his own? Have two or three eminent stage players authority to make changes at pleasure, and palm their novelties upon a nation under the idea of custom? The reader will pardon me for transcribing here the opinion of the celebrated Michaelis, one of the most learned philologers of the present century. "It is not," says he, "for a scholar to give laws nor proscribe established expressions: If he takes so much on himself he is ridiculed, and deservedly; it is no more than a just mortification to his ambition, and the penalty of his usurping on the rights of the people. Language is a democratical state, where all the learning in the world does not warrant a citizen to supersede a received custom, till he has convinced the whole nation that this custom is a mistake. Scholars are not so infallible that every thing is to be referred to them. Were they allowed a decisory power, the errors of language, I am sure, instead of diminishing, would be continually increasing. Learned heads teem with them no less than the vulgar; and the former are much more imperious, that we should be compelled to defer to their innovations and implicitly to receive every false opinion of theirs."[78]