English spelling and spelling reform

by Thomas Raynesford Lounsbury

In truth, in this matter we have often gone back not merely from the practice of the seventeenth century, but from the more rigid practice of the eighteenth. In the second half of the latter period Johnson’s Dictionary settled the standard. The changes which have taken place since his time have all been haphazard. They have been sometimes for the better; they have as frequently been for the worse. Take, for illustration, catcall, downfall, downhill, bethrall, miscall, overfall, unroll, forestall. In Johnson’s Dictionary these appear as catcal, downfal, downhil, bethral, miscal, overfal, unrol, and forestal. As might be expected, there was no consistency in his treatment of the terminations found in these words. While he spelled downhil with a single l, he spelled uphill with two. While he spelled install with two l’s, he spelled reinstal with but one. Contradictory usages of this sort are liable to turn up anywhere in his work. Reconcilable, for instance, appears in it with an e after the il; irreconcilable without this vowel. Naturally, arbitrariness of spelling of such a sort tended much more to the complication of orthography than to its simplification. There was sufficient love of uniformity in our nature to reduce many of these variations to one form; but as a general rule the form selected has been the one which carried the largest number of unnecessary letters. Take, for instance, the word fulness, so spelled by Johnson. It is now often written fullness, after the analogy of illness and smallness. But there is no consistency even in this practice. No one, for illustration, now spells forgetfulness with two l’s, though that method was once not uncommon.

In fact, on no side has any rational principle been at work, or if it has shown itself, it has never been allowed to carry out fully the results at which it has arrived. Against the agencies which have tended to widen the gulf between orthography and orthoepy counteracting influences, indeed, have at times manifested themselves. Two measures, in particular, the language has unconsciously taken to lighten the load under which it has been staggering. One of them is a natural action on the part of the users of speech; the other, though a growth, partakes of the nature of an artificial device. Both, however, have exerted an appreciable influence in making the spelling indicate the sound. The first to be considered is very limited in its operations. In ancient days, when pronunciation was changed the spelling was changed in order to denote it. With the petrifaction of the orthography this in time became generally impossible. Since, therefore, the spelling could not be altered to accord with the pronunciation, there sprang up a tendency to alter the pronunciation to accord with the spelling. Letters once unsounded came to be heard. Syllables previously crushed out of all recognition were restored to their full rights. These agencies never have exerted and never can exert influence on any large scale. Still, they have been operative in some degree and continue to be active. Accordingly, when the disposition manifests itself to bring about in such ways consonance between orthography and orthoepy, it is not worth while to make now any change in the spelling. A few examples will make this point perfectly clear.

Any one who compares the pronunciation given in the dictionaries at the beginning of the nineteenth century with that now sanctioned by similar authorities, will be struck by a number of instances in which a given word was once not pronounced in accordance with its spelling, but is so at the present time. Take, for illustration, housewife. A century and more ago its regularly authorized pronunciation was huzzif. This continues still. Much more commonly, however, each syllable which enters into the compound is heard exactly as it would be were it used separately. The older pronunciation has mainly died out in consequence of men learning the language more through the eye than the ear; though in this particular case the degradation of the word to huzzy has probably contributed its aid to produce the result.

Chart will supply us with another illustration. A century ago it was frequently pronounced cart. Cognizance and recognizance, too, have now taken up generally the sound of g, though in legal circles this letter still frequently remains suppressed. Take, again, the case of some words in which qu had once the sound of k as it is still heard in etiquette and coquette. Walker informs us that in his day harlequin and quadrille were pronounced har-le-kin and ka-drill. In both these instances, under the influence of the printed word, the qu has generally abandoned the sound of k for the regular sound which we ordinarily associate with this digraph. The same thing is going on in the case of masquerade. The dictionaries, which rarely record such changes till they have been fully accomplished, give us no intimation of this fact. This last observation applies also to pretty, in which e has regularly the sound of short i. But the disposition to give the vowel here its strictly proper sound is showing itself in the case of this word. If left to run its natural course, it is likely in time to become predominant.

As a general rule, however, words subject to influences of this sort are not likely to be those commonly heard in conversation. They belong to the class which are more usually met in books. There he who sees them for the first time is disposed to make the pronunciation accord as near as possible to the spelling. To this rule there are occasional notable exceptions. I have heard even educated men—at least, men who were generally so regarded—pronounce the words English and England just as they are spelled—that is, the initial syllable was sounded as ĕng and not as ĭng. No such pronunciation is ever likely to become common enough to bring itself into notice; but that it should exist at all is proof of how wide-reaching is the tendency just mentioned.

These words themselves, it may be added, are interesting illustrations of one of the various agencies which have done so much with us to bring about divergence between orthography and orthoepy. In our earlier speech there were two ways of denoting this initial syllable, corresponding, without doubt, to the two ways in which it was pronounced. In one case it was spelled eng, as it is now, in close accordance with its derivation. In the other case it was spelled ing, giving us, with the usual orthographic variations, the forms Ingland and Inglish. Here a genuine difference in sound conveyed to the ear was represented to the eye by a difference of orthography. The modern speech has made one of its usual compromises. It has retained the spelling of the one form and the pronunciation of the other. A similar story can be told of colonel, which had once as an allied form coronel. It is likewise true of lieutenant. In the case of this word, what is regular in the United States is exceptional in England, and vice versa. With us the pronunciation of the first syllable is almost universally in accordance with that of the simple word lieu, which is its original. In England it is not allowed to be contaminated by any sound which might indicate its derivation. From a by-gone spelling, lef, comes the pronunciation there prevalent. This has survived the form that created it.

But the most striking illustration of a change, mainly effected by the agency of the written word, is seen in the past participle been. There is little question—there is, indeed, no question—that at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and even much later, the digraph ee in this word had in cultivated speech the sound of short i. It is not meant that the other pronunciation which rymed it with seen was not sometimes heard; but merely that it was then so limited in use that orthoepists hardly thought it worth while to recognize its existence. Walker admitted no pronunciation of been save that which made it ryme with sin. He had heard of the other, but he had only heard of it. So said Sheridan, his contemporary and rival. So said Smart, his reviser and successor, writing in the middle of the nineteenth century.[35] Yet, with no support from the most prominent lexical authorities, the pronunciation of been to ryme with seen instead of sin, steadily gained ground in England during the last century. There it seems to have become finally the prevalent one. To it the New Historical English Dictionary, while sanctioning both ways of pronouncing the word, gives the preference—at least, the apparent preference.

The growth of this practice has, without question, been largely and perhaps mainly due to the fact that the digraph ee has been practically confined to the representation of a single sound. It has become to us a phonetic symbol, denoting almost invariably the so-called “long e.” Having this sound in nearly every case, there is unconsciously developed the feeling that it ought to have it always. For the sake of conforming to it, been has in consequence steadily tended to abandon its once more common pronunciation. This single example is of special interest, because of the proof it furnishes of the unifying tendency that would be exerted over language were phonetic symbols with fixed values employed to represent one sound and but one sound. It does more than that. It indicates the only way in which permanence can be given to pronunciation.

Even now, so marked is the influence of the training of the eye as compared with that of the ear, that efforts consciously or unconsciously go on to modify the sound of the word as we have been accustomed to hear it to the form of it which we are accustomed to see. It is no unusual thing to hear persons painfully striving to pronounce the final n of condemn, contemn, and similar verbs, making themselves very miserable when they fail, and others very miserable when they succeed. But, after all, efforts to bring about in this way accord between form and sound can affect only a very limited class of words. The gap between orthography and orthoepy is, with us, too wide and impassable for the latter ever to close up. The most we can do is in process of time to revive the pronunciation of a few letters that are now silent, or to substitute a few forms etymologically correct for the corruptions by which they have been supplanted. When either of these courses shows signs of immediate or even of ultimate adoption, it is not worth while to disturb the coming of that result by present attempts at alteration. But in its best estate the changes of pronunciation to accord with the spelling cannot, as regards influence, be compared with the much more ancient device now to be considered. This consists in appending an unpronounced e to the final syllable to indicate that the preceding vowel is long. This method early evolved itself out of the confusion in which our orthography was involved as a sort of help to denote the pronunciation by the spelling.

There seems to be something peculiarly attractive to our race in the letter e. Especially is this so when it serves no useful purpose. Adding it at random to syllables, and especially to final syllables, is supposed to give a peculiar old-time flavor to the spelling. For this belief there is, to some extent, historic justification. The letter still remains appended to scores of words in which it has lost the pronunciation once belonging to it. Again, it has been added to scores of others apparently to amplify their proportions. We have in our speech a large number of monosyllables. As a sort of consolation to their shrunken condition an e has been appended to them, apparently to make them present a more portly appearance. The fancy we all have for this vowel not only recalls the wit but suggests the wisdom of Charles Lamb’s exquisite pun upon Pope’s line that our race is largely made up of “the mob of gentlemen who write with ease.” The belief, in truth, seems to prevail that the final e is somehow indicative of aristocracy. In proper names, particularly, it is felt to impart a certain distinction to the appellation, lifting it far above the grade of low associations. It has the crowning merit of uselessness; and in the eyes of many uselessness seems to be regarded as the distinguishing mark of any noble class, either of things or persons. Still, I have so much respect for the rights of property that it seems to me every man ought to have the privilege of spelling and pronouncing his own name in any way he pleases.