English spelling and spelling reform

by Thomas Raynesford Lounsbury

The final consonants which are retained in the spelling but are not heard in the pronunciation are b, n, h, t, w, and x. The words possessing them may be divided into two classes. In one the useless letter has a sort of claim to existence. It was there originally. Let us begin with the unpronounced final b. The native words ending in it are climb, comb, dumb, and lamb. They are common to the various Teutonic languages. In all of these they terminated originally with this consonant. To the list may be added plumb, ‘perpendicular,’ coming remotely from the Latin plumbum, ‘lead.’ The spelling of these words underwent the usual variations common before a fixed orthography had fastened itself upon the speech. Naturally the unpronounced b was not unfrequently dropped. This was especially true of climb and dumb. Take as an illustration Spenser’s line, where he speaks of a castle-wall,

That was so high as foe might not it clime.[24]

But after the reign of Elizabeth the useless letter gradually but firmly fixed its hold upon the spelling in the case of all these words. In this respect English has had a different development from that of other Teutonic tongues. Take modern German, for instance. For the word corresponding to climb it has replaced the original chlimban by klimmen; for chamb, ‘comb,’ it has substituted kamm; for dumb in Old High German tumb, it has dumm; for lamb, in Old High German lamb, it has lamm. The dropping of the final b seems to have wrought no observable harm to the language nor occasioned any grief—at all events, any present grief—to its users.

Still, it may be maintained in justification of the present spelling of these words that they are entitled to the final b on the ground of derivation. But no such plea can be put up in the case of those now to be considered. These are crumb, limb, numb, and thumb. In all of these the last letter is not only useless, but according to the term one chooses to employ, it is either a blunder or a corruption. It did not exist in the original. In truth, this unnecessary consonant threatened at one time to fasten itself also upon the name of the fruit called the plum. Especially was this noticeable in the best literature of the eighteenth century. An attack of common sense, to which the users of our orthography have been occasionally liable, prevented this particular word from carrying about the burden of the unpronounced b. In the case of most of the others it was not until the sixteenth century that the practice began of appending the unauthorized and unneeded letter. It took something of a struggle to foist it upon these words; but not so much, indeed, as will be required to loose the hold it has now gained over the hearts of thousands.

There are a few words, almost all of Latin derivation, in which a final n appears unsounded. Kiln is perhaps the only one of English extraction in which this peculiarity appears. In the case of most of them the retention of the letter may be defended—at least it may be palliated—on the ground that in the derivatives its pronunciation is resumed. In autumn, column, condemn, hymn, and limn the n is silent, but it gives distinct evidence of its existence in words like autumnal, columnar, condemnation, hymnal, limner, and solemnity. In fact, this resumption of the sound has at times been made to appear in other parts of the verbs containing this silent letter. Especially has this been true of hymning and limning, the participles of hymn and limn. It was a practice which much grieved certain of the earlier orthoepists. They took the ground that analogy forbade any sound not belonging to the principal verb itself to be heard in any of its parts. The observation is only noticeable for its revelation of the fact that it should enter into the head of any advocate of the existing orthography to set up analogy as a convincing reason for pronouncing any English word in a particular way.

Three of these final unpronounced letters do not need protracted consideration. In the digraph ow, ending such words as low, flow, and sow, the w serves no particular use. According to some it justifies its existence by indicating the quality of the preceding vowel. Its value in this respect may be estimated by comparing the pronunciation of bow, a missile weapon for discharging an arrow, with bow, an inclination of the head, or bow, the fore-end of a boat. The next letter t, when a final consonant, is invariably heard, save in some imperfectly naturalized words. Of these eclat and billet-doux may be taken as examples. In England, however—not in the United States—there is a single and singular survival of the original French pronunciation in the case of a word received into full citizenship. This is the noun trait, which came into the language in the eighteenth century. Naturally its final letter was at first not sounded. The tendency so to do, however, soon showed itself. Lexicographers authorized it, indeed favored it; but for some inexplicable reason Englishmen have never taken kindly to the complete naturalization of the word. “The t,” said Walker, at the end of the eighteenth century, “begins to be pronounced.” Had he been living at the end of the nineteenth, he would have been justified in saying precisely the same thing as regards England. It was beginning then; it is beginning now; but it is only beginning.

A final h is not pronounced when preceded by a vowel; when preceded by the consonant g it forms a digraph which will be considered later. There are fewer than a dozen words of the former class in which it appears. Among these are the interjections, ah, eh, and oh. Here again, as in the case of w, the existence of the letter is defended on the ground that it indicates the quality of the preceding vowel. Yet for this purpose it can hardly be deemed a necessity. We use it in the case of ah; but we get along very well without it in the case of ha. This, too, was formerly sometimes spelled hah. Oh, likewise, was once widely found in the very instances and the very senses where we now use the single letter O. In two other words, Messiah and hallelujah, the h may be retained because of the sacredness of associations which have gathered about them. Yet the former word was itself a sixteenth-century alteration of the previous Messias.

The unpronounced final k belongs strictly to the class of double letters of which it is not my purpose to treat. It invariably follows c, and is really nothing but a duplicate of it. Still, as the sign is a different representation of the same sound, it may be well to bestow upon it a brief attention. At the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century it was dropped, after a warm contest, from words of Latin derivation. But the reform did not extend to those of native origin. In many cases a k has been added to words which originally ended in c. Especially was this true of monosyllables. Thus the earliest form of back was bæc, of sack was sac, of sick was seoc. This was the case not only with a good many monosyllables to which a k is now appended, but to a certain extent with dissyllables also. The fact is best exemplified in the words which have the ending ock. This sometimes represents the early English diminutive uc, which became later oc or ok. From the point of view of derivation the modern spelling is distinctly improper. Thus, for illustration, bullock, haddock, hassock, hillock, and mattock were in their earliest known forms bulluc, haddoc, hassuc, hilloc, and mattuc. Several words not of native origin have also adopted this ending. Hammock, from the Spanish hamaca, itself of Carib origin, has conformed to it. It has supplied itself with a final k. During the last century havoc managed to get rid of this consonant, with which it had been encumbered, without exciting any special remark. But now that the uselessness of a letter has become to many one of the chief recommendations of the spelling, the dropping of an unnecessary k from any of the other words of this class would bring unspeakable anguish to thousands.

There are more consonants which are unpronounced in the middle of words than at the beginning or the end. They are b, c, l, g, h, p, s, t, w, and z. In the case of some of them—the two last, for instance—the words in which the unpronounced letter appears are very few. In rendezvous z is not sounded. It is the only instance in which this consonant is not heard, and this is due to the fact that it is not heard in its French original. Again, it is only in answer, sword, and two that the medial w is silent. Unpronounced consonants are more frequent in the case of the other letters, but, after all, they are not numerous in themselves. Still, their presence has its usual effect. In every instance it raises a stumbling-block in the way of the proper pronunciation. Furthermore, it has in some cases either hidden the right derivation entirely or given a wrong idea of it.

Take the example of the medial b in debt and doubt. These words, coming originally from the French, were introduced into the language with the spelling, dette, det, and doute, dout. So for a long time they were spelled. Deference to the remote Latin original, which sprang up with the revival of learning, introduced the unauthorized b into the world. It has already been pointed out that this has given an opportunity, which has been fully improved, for the devotees of derivation to exhibit their usual inconsistency. When the presence of unpronounced letters in the case of other words presents an obstacle to correct pronunciation, then its retention is insisted upon as essential to our knowledge of its immediate origin, to the purity of the language itself, and to the happiness of those speaking it. But no advocate of the existing orthography could be induced to part with the b of debt and doubt, though its presence comes into direct conflict with the views he is championing in the case of other words. At times attempts were apparently made to pronounce the inserted b. In the full Latinized form debit, which was early in use, there was no difficulty. Indeed, it was a necessity. Not so in the form debt. Yet it is evident from Love’s Labour’s Lost that there were men who sought to accomplish this feat. It is difficult to ascertain whether speaker or hearer suffered more in consequence of this effort. If unsuccessful, it was the speaker; if successful, the pain was transferred to the hearer.