Chapter III: The Orthographic Situation (2)

Up to this point we have been engaged in making manifest the numerous different ways in which the same vowel-sound is represented in our present orthography. Necessarily a reversal of the process would present an equally impressive showing, for examples just as impressive would make manifest how the same sign adds to the further confusion of English spelling by denoting a number of different vowel-sounds. But there is a limit to the endurance of the reader, to say nothing of that of the writer. Furthermore, there is little need of this addition in the case of the vowels. The facts about to be furnished will be more than sufficient to satisfy any demand for illustrations of the extent to which the same sign has been made to indicate a wide variety of different sounds, though in the sporadic instances the examples already given must be repeated. For we come now to the consideration of those combinations of letters, numerous in English spelling, to which has been given the name of digraphs. They are sometimes made up of a union of vowels, sometimes of a union of a vowel and a consonant, sometimes of a union of two consonants.

I have already adverted to the fact that had there been any system established in the employment of these combinations of letters, and had each of them been made to represent unvaryingly one particular sound, some of the worst evils of English orthography would have been largely mitigated, and in certain cases entirely relieved. But this was not to be. The opportunity of bringing about regularity of usage in the employment of these signs was either not seen, or if seen was not improved. The same variableness, the same irregularity, the same lawlessness which existed in the representation of the sounds of the vowels and diphthongs came to exist in the case of the digraphs also. They consequently did little more than add to the confusion prevailing in English orthography, and became as valueless for indicating pronunciation as are the single letters of which they are composed.

To this sweeping statement there are two partial exceptions. The first is _aw_. This is one of several representatives of the so-called broad sound of _a_ heard in _ball_ and _fall_. Whenever that digraph appears, its pronunciation is invariably the same. No such absolute assertion can be made of the digraph which represents the sound of “long _e_.” This is the combination _ee_. There are but two exceptions in common use to the pronunciation of it just given. The first is the word _breeches_. Its singular has the regular sound. The pronunciation as short _i_ in the plural--used, too, there in a special sense--may perhaps be due to an extension to this form of that tendency, so prevalent in English speech, on the part of the derivative, to shorten the vowel of the primitive. The other is the participle _been_ of the substantive verb. In usage the pronunciation of this word has long wavered and still wavers between the sounds heard respectively in _sin_ and _seen_. Of this variation there will be occasion to speak later in detail.

These exceptions, however, affect but a limited number of words. They are hardly worth considering when their regularity is put in contrast with the irregularities of the other combinations. Let us begin with the digraph _ai_. Ordinarily it has the sound we are accustomed to call “long a,” as can be seen in _fail_, _rain_, and _paid_. In _pair_, _fair_, _hair_ it has another sound. In _said_, _again_, _against_ it has the sound of short _e_. In _aisle_ it has the diphthongal sound called by us “long _i_.” This word furnishes an interesting illustration of the way in which much of our highly prized orthography came to have a being. Its present spelling is comparatively recent. Doctor Johnson recognized in it the lack of conformity to any possible derivation. He adopted it on the authority of Addison, though with manifest misgiving. He thought it ought to be written _aile_, but in deference to this author he inserted it in his dictionary as _aisle_.

“Thus,” he said, “the word is written by Addison, but perhaps improperly.”[21] Johnson’s action was followed without thought and without hesitation by his successors. There is no question, indeed, as to the impropriety of the present spelling from the point of view of both derivation and pronunciation. Equally there is no doubt as to the impropriety of its meaning from the former point of view. It came remotely from the Latin _ala_, ‘a wing.’ Therefore, it means really the wing part of the church on each side of the nave. In this sense it is still employed. But since the first half of the eighteenth century it has been made to denote also the passage between rows of seats. Strictly speaking, this is a particularly gross corruption, though, like so many in our speech, it has now been sanctioned by good usage. The proper word to indicate such a sense was _alley_, corresponding to the French _allée_, ‘a passage.’ This was once common and is still used in the North of England. _Aisle_ itself was formerly spelled _ile_ or _yle_. Confusing it with _isle_, originally spelled _ile_, men inserted an _s_ about the end of the seventeenth century. Later an _a_ was prefixed under the influence of the French _aile_. It was thus that this linguistic monster, defying any correct orthography or orthoepy, was created. In any sense of it the _s_ is an unjustifiable intrusion, representing as the word does in one signification the Latin _ala_, ‘a wing,’ and in the other the French _allée_, ‘a passage.’

There is another word containing this digraph which illustrates vividly the uncertainty of sound caused by the present spelling. This is _plait_, both as verb and substantive. About its pronunciation usage has long been conflicting. “_Plait_, a fold of cloth, is regular, and ought to be pronounced like _plate_, a dish,” said Walker, at the beginning of the eighteenth century. “Pronouncing it so as to rhyme with _meat_,” he added, “is a vulgarism, and ought to be avoided.” So say several later English dictionaries. So say the leading American ones. Webster, indeed, concedes that the pronunciation denounced by Walker is colloquially possible. It therefore does not necessarily relegate the user of it to the ranks of the vulgar. Now comes the New Historical English Dictionary, and gives the word not merely three distinct pronunciations, but holds up as only really proper that which has failed to gain the favor of most lexicographers. It is the one found “in living English use,” it says, when the word has the sense of ‘fold.’ Further we are assured that with this signification it is ordinarily written _pleat_. This would tend to justify still more the ryme with _meat_, which so shocked Walker. Then in its second sense of a ‘braid of hair or straw’ we are told that it has the sound of _a_ in _mat_. This leaves the pronunciation of _plait_ to ryme with _plate_ hardly any support to stand on. It has merely the distinction of being mentioned first; but it is denied a real existence as a spoken word. Nothing could better illustrate the unlimited possibilities opened by our present orthography for discussions of propriety of pronunciation about which certainty can never be assured. All statements about general usage, no matter from what source coming, must necessarily be received with a good many grains of allowance, if not with a fair proportion of grains of distrust--at least, whenever our orthoepic doctors disagree. Do the best the most conscientious investigator can, he can never make himself familiar with the practice of but a limited number of educated men who have a right to be consulted. His conclusions, therefore, must always rest upon a more or less imperfect collection of facts.

The digraph _ay_ is naturally subject to the same influences as _ai_. It is, however, much less used save at the end of words. Grief has, indeed, been felt and expressed, even by devout worshippers of our present orthography, at the arbitrary change of signs made in the inflection of certain verbs, like _lay_, _pay_, _say_. These, without any apparent reason for so doing, pass from the digraph _ay_ in the present to _ai_ in the preterite. Naturally there is no objectionable uniformity in the practice. That might tend to render slightly easier the acquisition of our spelling. Accordingly, _lay_ and _pay_ and _say_ have in the past tense _laid_, _paid_, and _said_, while verbs with the same termination, such as _play_, _pray_, _delay_, have in this same past tense the forms _played_ and _prayed_ and _delayed_. _Stay_ uses impartially _staid_ and _stayed_. Much dissatisfaction has been expressed at the “wanton departure from analogy,” as it has been called, which has been manifested by the words of the first list given. As the characteristic of our spelling everywhere is a wanton departure from analogy, it hardly seems worth while to find fault with this particular exhibition of it.

In _quay_ the digraph has the entirely distinct sound of “long _e_.” Of this word it may be added that the spelling is modern while the pronunciation is ancient. Originally it appeared as _key_ or _kay_--of course, with the usual orthographic variations. In the earlier half of the eighteenth century, under the influence of the French _quai_, the present form of the word came in; toward the end of the century it had become the prevailing form. This gave the lexicographer, Walker, an opportunity to display his hostility to any sort of spelling which should engage in the reprehensible task of aiming to indicate pronunciation. Such a proceeding was in his eyes a radically vicious course of action. In the entire ignorance of the original form of the word he remarked that it “is now sometimes seen written _key_; for if we cannot bring the pronunciation to the spelling, it is looked upon as some improvement to bring the spelling to the pronunciation--a most pernicious practice in language.”

_Key_, as the spelling suggests, had originally the sound of _ey_ in _they_ and _obey_; later it passed into the sound of “long _e_.” This it has transmitted to its supplanter. In the scarcity of rymes in our tongue, it is always a little venturesome to infer from the evidence of verse the past pronunciation of words which have with us the same termination, but different sounds. This imparts a little uncertainty to the treatment of _quay_ in two passages containing the word which are given by the New Historical Dictionary.

But now arrives the dismal day
She must return to Ormond-quay,

says Swift in his poem of _Stella at Wood-Park_. Does the ryme here represent an attempt to conform the pronunciation to the spelling? More likely it represents the survival of a pronunciation once more or less prevalent. The second extract from _In Memoriam_ is under the circumstances more striking:

If one should bring me the report
That thou hadst touched the land to-day,
And I went down unto the quay,
And found thee lying in the port.

It certainly looks as if in this passage Tennyson had set out to make the pronunciation conform to the spelling.

Our next digraph is _ea_. This has a choice variety of sounds to represent. Most commonly it receives the pronunciation of “long _e_.” Of the scores of examples containing it, _beast_, _hear_, and _deal_ may be taken as specimens. But while this is its most frequent sound, it is far from being the only one. Its most important rival is that of short _e_, which can be found in no small number of words like _breath_, _breast_, _weather_. In these and all other like cases the second vowel is absolutely superfluous as regards pronunciation. The unnecessary letter is in some instances due to derivation; in others it exists in defiance of it--as, for instance, in _feather_ and _endeavor_. Its insertion was doubtless due to an attempt to represent a sound which is no longer heard in these words. In a large number of instances they were once spelled without the now unpronounced letter.

Common also is a third sound of this digraph--the one we call “short _u_.” It is heard in _heard_ itself, in _earth_, in _early_, in _learn_, in _search_, and in a number of other words in which _ea_ is followed by _r_. There is a fourth sound of it which may be represented by _bear_, _swear_, _tear_. A fifth sound of it occurs in the words _heart_, _hearth_, and _hearken_. Again, a sixth sound of it is represented by such words as _great_, _break_, _steak_. In all these cases it will be observed that certain of these words have in the course of their history tended to pass from one pronunciation of the digraph into another. Sometimes they have for a long time wavered between the two. _Hearth_, which contains the fifth sound just assigned to the combination, was often made to ryme with words containing the third sound, represented by _earth_. According to the New Historical Dictionary, this is true now of Scotland, and of the Northern English dialect. It is true also of certain parts of the United States, or, at any rate, of certain persons. It seems also to have been the pronunciation of Milton.

Far from all resort of mirth
Save the cricket on the hearth

are lines found in _Il Penseroso_. So also _great_ once had often the first sound here given to the digraph, as if it were spelled _greet_. Both this sound as well as the one it now receives were so equally authorized in the eighteenth century that Dr. Johnson triumphantly cited the fact as a convincing proof of the impossibility of making a satisfactory pronouncing dictionary, just as we are now told that we cannot have a phonetic orthography because men pronounce the same word in different ways.

The digraph _ee_ having already been considered, we pass on to _ei_. Its most frequent sound is that heard in such words as _rein_, _veil_, and _neighbor_. But it has also the sound of “long _e_” in _conceit_, _seize_, _ceiling_, and a few others. In _heir_ and _heiress_ and _their_ it has the sound of _a_ in _fare_. In _height_ and _sleight_ it has the sound of “long _i_.” In _heifer_ and _nonpareil_ it has the sound of short _e_. The allied digraph _ey_ has no such range of sounds. In accented syllables it represents only the first one given to _ei_, as can be seen in _they_, _grey_, and _survey_. _Key_, with the sound of “long _e_,” seems to be the solitary exception.

It is already plainly apparent that there is nothing in the character of our present spelling to fit it to serve as a guide to pronunciation, the very office for which spelling was created. But its worthlessness in this respect, with the consequent uncertainty and anxiety attending the use of it, forms in the case of two words containing the digraph _ei_, one of the most amusing episodes in the history of English orthoepy. In modern times their pronunciation has given rise to controversy and heart-burnings as bitter as the matter itself is unimportant. These words are _either_ and _neither_. Were they to adopt the most common pronunciation of the digraph they would have the sound heard in such words as _eight_, _vein_, and _feint_. This, in truth, they once had. To indicate that fact they have occasionally been written _ayther_ and _nayther_. But this pronunciation, outside of Ireland at least, had largely disappeared by the latter part of the eighteenth century. So far as many orthoepists were concerned, it was ignored entirely. Those who mentioned it often accorded it scant favor. The affections of lexicographers were long divided between the sounds heard in _receive_ and _deceit_, and that heard in _height_ and _sleight_. For the former there was a very marked preference. Most of them did not even admit the existence of the “long _i_” sound; those who did, gave it generally a grudging recognition. The various pronunciations prevailing in the latter part of the eighteenth century were specified by Nares in his _Elements of Orthoepy_. “_Either_ and _neither_,” he wrote, “are spoken by some with the sound of long _i_. I have heard even that of long _a_ given to them; but as the regular way is also in use, I think it is preferable. These differences seem to have arisen from ignorance of the regular sound of _ei_.” As the regular sound of _ei_, if any one of them is entitled to that designation, is heard in such words as _skein_ and _freight_, one gets the impression that Nares himself was ignorant of what it was.

Walker, the orthoepic lawgiver of our fathers, distinctly preferred the “long _e_” sound of _either_ and _neither_. Both the practice of Garrick and analogy led him to maintain that they should be pronounced as if ryming “with breather, one who breathes.” He was compelled, however, to admit that the “long _i_” sound was heard so frequently that it was hardly possible in insist exclusively upon the other. He did the best he could, nevertheless, to ignore it and thereby banish it. While in the introduction to his dictionary he recognized the existence of both sounds, in the body of his work that of “long _e_” was the only one given. In this course he was followed by his reviser, Smart, who succeeded to his name, and up to a certain degree to his authority. Smart went even further than his predecessor. He was apparently ignorant of the fact--he certainly ignored it--that any other pronunciation of these words than that of “long _e_” was known to the English people. But in spite of its defiance of analogy and of the hostility of lexicographers, the sound of “long _i_” continued to make its way. The fact has sometimes excited the indignation of orthoepists. Yet it is hard to understand how any one who cherishes the vagaries of English spelling should get into a state of excitement about the vagaries of its pronunciation.

Neither the digraph _eo_ nor _eu_ is found often. The first, however, improves fully the opportunity presented of making it difficult, if not impossible, for the learner to get any idea of the pronunciation from the spelling. In _people_ it has the sound of “long _e_”; in _leopard_ and _jeopard_ it has the sound of short _e_. In _yeoman_ again it has the sound of long _o_. _Eu_ has practically the same sound as _ew_, as can be exemplified in _feud_ and _few_. This last digraph, however, represents the long sound of _u_ as well as that in which iotization precedes the vowel. The difference in the pronunciation of _drew_ and _dew_ will make manifest the contrast. There is always a tendency, however, for the digraph to pass from the latter sound to the former in a tongue in which there is nothing in the orthography to fix a precise value upon the sign indicating both. “According to my v’oo,” Oliver Wendell Holmes, in his _Elsie Venner_, has one of his characters saying. “The unspeakable pronunciation of this word,” he adds in a parenthesis, “is the touchstone of New England Brahminism.” In another place in the same novel he still further enforces this point. “The Doctor,” he wrote, among his other recommendations to the hero, says to him, “you can pronounce the word _view_.” And yet in it the iotization is plainly indicated by the vowel itself, while in such words as _hew_ and _few_ and _new_ there is nothing to fix definitely the sound. Finally, it remains to say of this digraph that _shew_ and _strew_, two verbs once spelled with it, have now become _show_ and _strow_, a form more in accordance with their pronunciation. There is no particular reason why _sew_ should not follow their example in substituting an _o_ for an _e_.

The digraph _ie_ is represented but by three vowel sounds. The most common one is that of “long _e_”--seen, for example, in _chief_, _grieve_, _believe_. But the sound of “long _i_” is heard in no small number of words, especially monosyllabic words ending in _ie_, such as _lie_, _die_, _tie_. In one instance it has the sound of short _e_. Accordingly, in it the first vowel is distinctly superfluous. This is the word _friend_. Its Anglo-Saxon original is _freónd_, just as that of _fiend_ is _feónd_ or _fiónd_. One of the small jokes of the opponents of spelling reform is a professed unwillingness “to knock the eye out of a friend.” Disparaging remarks have been made about this as an argument--as it seems to me, with no justification. Compared with most of the objections brought against the efforts to wash the dirty face of our orthography and make it decently presentable, this particular argument against dropping the _i_ out of _friend_ is, as I look at it, the strongest that has been or can be adduced. It reminds one, indeed, of the objection the French writer made to the dropping of the _h_ out of _rhinoceros_. The animal would lose his horn and become nothing more than a sheep.

As a matter of linguistic history, however, it was not until late in the sixteenth century that the _i_, though found long before, appeared in the word _friend_ to an extent worth considering. There were several ways in which it had been spelled previously. Of these _frend_ was naturally a common one in days when the belief still lingered that the office of orthography was to represent pronunciation and not to get as far away from it as possible. Take, as an illustration, the treatise entitled _The Schoolmaster_ of the great English scholar, Roger Ascham. This appeared in 1570. In it the word _friend_ occurs just twenty-five times. It is regularly spelled _frend_, with the exception of one instance, where the intruding _i_ is found. So also _frendly_ is invariably the form of the adjective, and _frendship_ that of the derivative noun.[22]

_Oa_, the next digraph in order, comes very near attaining the distinction of being represented by a single sound. It occurs in a fairly large number of words which can be represented by _oar_, _coat_, _loaf_. It is saved, however, from the reproach of regularity by having the sound of the _a_ of “ball” in the words _broad_, _abroad_, and _groat_. _Oe_ is not so common, but, like its reverse _eo_, what it lacks in number of words it makes up in variety of pronunciation. In _foe_, _hoe_, and _toe_ it has the sound of long _o_. In _canoe_ and _shoe_ it has the sound of long _u_. In these instances it forms the termination of words. Not so in _does_, where it has the sound we call “short _u_.” The use of this digraph, like that of _ae_, has been much restricted. For instance, the word we now spell _fetid_ was once generally spelled _fœtid_. So, in truth, it continued to be till the nineteenth century. The digraph, indeed, still lingers in the name of the drug _asafœtida_, though in the instance of this word the long sound has given way to the short. Not unlike, in some particulars, has been the fortune of certain other terms. Take, for instance, the word _economy_. Its remote Greek original began with _oi_, which in English, as in Latin, appeared with the form _œ_, and sometimes erroneously _æ_. For these was found occasionally the simple _e_. In the nineteenth century this last displaced the two others, and gave to the first syllable the present standard form. One of the results, however, of this sort of substitution is that no one seems to be certain whether he ought to pronounce the initial _e_ of _economic_ as long or short.

The ordinary sound of _oo_, the next digraph to be considered, is that of long _u_, as we see it in _moon_, _soon_, _food_. But there are about half a dozen words--throwing derivatives out of consideration--in which it has the short sound of _u_. The difference can be plainly observed by contrasting the pronunciation of the digraph in the two words _mood_ and _wood_. Furthermore, _oo_ is to be credited with two more sounds. One is that of the “short _u_” seen in _blood_ and _flood_. The other is the long sound of _o_ in _door_ and _floor_, anciently spelled _dore_ and _flore_. _Dore_, for instance, can be found in Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and even as late as Bunyan.

The digraph _ou_ is perhaps the banner sign for the frequency of its occurrence and the variety of sounds it indicates. As it appears most commonly, it is a genuine diphthong, as seen in such words as _loud_, _sour_, _mouth_. But there is another large body of words in which the sign has a sound essentially distinct. It can be observed in such words as _group_, _youth_, _tour_. It gives one a peculiar idea of the worth of English orthography as a guide to pronunciation that in _thou_, the singular of the pronoun of the second person, _ou_ has one value, and in its plural, _you_, it has a value altogether different. The same observation is true of the possessives _our_ and _your_. There are two or three words in which these two signs have had for a long period a struggle for the ascendancy. Take the case of the substantive _wound_. One gets the impression from poetry that in this word the _ou_ constitutes a genuine diphthong. There is no question that it rymes regularly with words containing the diphthongal sound here given. Perhaps that was a necessity; it had to ryme with such or not ryme at all. Still, the verse seems pretty surely to have represented the common pronunciation. In the couplets of Pope, the poetic authority of the eighteenth century, it is joined, for instance, with _bound_, _found_, _ground_. Yet this same pronunciation was unequivocally condemned by Walker at the end of the same century. “To _wound_,” he writes, “is sometimes pronounced so as to rhyme with _found_; but this is directly contrary to the best usage.”

This same uncertainty in the pronunciation of words in consequence of the uncertainty of the pronunciation of the signs employed to represent it may be further exemplified in the case of the noun _route_. Unlike _wound_, which is a pure native word, this is of French extraction. Following the analogy of most of the words so derived, it ought to have the second sound given here to the digraph. Yet it not unfrequently receives that of the first. Thus Walker graciously tells us that it is often pronounced so as to ryme with _doubt_ “by respectable speakers.” A far more interesting case is that of _pour_. The majority of eighteenth century orthoepists--Johnston, Kenrick, Perry, Smith, and Walker--pronounced the word so as to ryme with _power_. Spenser so employed it. So did Pope, more than a century later. In the only two instances he uses the word in his regular poetry at the end of a line it has this sound. In his _Messiah_ occurs the following couplet:

Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour:
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower.

Walker, indeed, declared unreservedly that the best pronunciation of it is “that similar to _power_.” Nares alone among eighteenth century orthoepists seems to have upheld what is now the customary pronunciation; yet even here the authority of some of the greatest of modern poets has been occasionally cast in favor of the once accepted sound. In his poem of _The Poet’s Mind_, Tennyson, for instance, writes:

Holy water will I pour
Into every spicy flower.

The digraph is far from being limited to the sounds heard respectively in _thou_ and _you_. Another one is that of long _o_, found, for illustration, in _dough_, _soul_, _mould_. There is still another sound--that of the so-called “broad _a_”--which is heard in _brought_, _ought_, and _wrought_. A fifth sound represented is that of the regular short _u_ seen in _would_, _could_, and _should_. In _cough_ and _trough_, as pronounced by many, there is a sixth sound represented. In the course of its travels through the vowel sounds the sign reaches that which we commonly call “short _u_.” There is no small number of words in which this pronunciation of it appears. _Country_, _journey_, _trouble_, _flourish_ may be given as examples. _Ou_, in truth, has a remarkable record, not so much by the number of sounds it represents--in this it is approached by two or three other digraphs--but by the comparative largeness of the body of words in which several of these different sounds appear. In the latter respect, but not at all in the former, is it rivalled by the analogous _ow_. This, common as it is, has but two sounds. The first and most frequent is that heard in _brown_, _down_, and _vowel_; the second is the long _o_ sound heard in such words as _blow_, _grow_, and _below_.

We now reach the digraphs of which the vowel _u_ is the first letter. In a large number of words this has, if pronounced, the sound of _w_. Especially is this true of syllables upon which no accent falls, or at most a secondary accent. Nothing of this characteristic is seen in the case of _uy_--in which the diphthongal sound of _i_ is heard in the two words _buy_ and _guy_--but it is noticeable in the case of the first four vowels. We can see it illustrated by the _ua_ of _assuage_, _persuade_, _language_; by the _ue_ of _conquest_, _request_, and _desuetude_; by the _ui_ of _anguish_, _languish_, _cuirass_; and by the _uo_ of _quote_, _quota_, _quorum_. In this last case the _u_ strictly belongs with _q_. Of _ua_, the first of these digraphs, all that needs to be said is that in certain words, such as _guard_ and _guardian_, the _u_ is not pronounced at all. The same statement can be made of _ue_ in _guess_, _guest_, _guerdon_. It is as useless as it is silent. A plea has been put forth in justification of its existence on the theory that it acts as a sort of servile instrument to protect the hard sound of _g_. If this digraph were invariably so employed, it may be conceded that there would be some sense in its existence. But he who expects to find either sense or consistency in English orthography has strayed beyond the limits of justifiable ignorance. There is a large number of instances in which the consonant _g_ continues to exhibit its hard sound when followed directly by _e_. _Get_ and _geese_ and _gewgaw_ and _eager_ and _anger_ are a few of the words which could be adduced to show that there has never been felt any necessity of the presence of a protecting _u_ to indicate this pronunciation.

When at the end of a word the digraph _ue_ has often the sound of long _u_, as in _blue_, _pursue_, _true_, and _rue_. But no small number of instances occur in which it is entirely silent. This is especially noticeable in words derived from the Greek which have the final syllables _logue_ or _gogue_. _Catalogue_, _prologue_, _dialogue_, _demagogue_, _pedagogue_, and _synagogue_ will serve as examples. But the list of words in which this digraph is silent is far from being confined to those with these two terminations. _Antique_, _oblique_, _intrigue_, _colleague_, _fatigue_, _rogue_, and _plague_ will testify to the uselessness of it as far as pronunciation is concerned, unless it be maintained that it justifies its existence by indicating that the preceding vowel has a long sound. If this be true, it ought not to appear when the vowel is short. One sees so much of the results of freak and wantonness in our spelling that it is permissible to cherish the fancy that any intelligent principle has been sometime somewhere at work in it, and that a feeling of this kind was the unconscious motive that led to the adoption of _packet_ in place of _pacquet_ and of _lackey_ for _lacquey_; at any rate, of _risk_ for the once prevalent _risque_ and of _check_ for _cheque_. But no such reason can be assigned for the _ue_ of _tongue_. Its original was _tunge_. The final _e_ ceased to be pronounced, and in course of time to be printed. The insertion of a _u_ in the ending, after the fashion of the French _langue_, was an act of combined ignorance and folly.

The digraph _ui_ follows in general the course of _ue_. As in the case of the latter the _u_ was found unneeded in _guess_ and _guest_, so it is equally unnecessary in _guide_ and _guile_. Here again a not dissimilar sort of defence for it has been set up. Its retention, we are told, is desirable in order to indicate the diphthongal sound of _i_ in these words. The argument is as futile as in the case of the preceding digraph. It illustrates forcibly the capabilities of our spelling in the way of confusing pronunciation that the same combination which is responsible for “long _i_” in _guide_ and _guile_ and _disguise_ is equally responsible for the short _i_ of _guilt_, _guinea_, and _build_. With the statement that _ui_ has still another sound in such words as _fruit_, _bruise_, and _recruit_, we leave the consideration of the vowels and vowel sounds. But after the survey of the subject which has just been made, no one is likely to pretend that the pronunciation he hears of any one of these in a strange word will furnish him the least surety that he will be able to reproduce its authorized form in writing.

V

THE CONSONANTS

So much for the vowels. When we come to the consonants we are approaching much more solid phonetic ground. In a general way, they have remained faithful to the sounds they were created to indicate. Not but that here also there is need of reform. This will be made sufficiently manifest when details are given in the case of individual letters. But the disorganization of the consonant-system is slight compared with that of the vowel-system. There is, indeed, a fundamental difference between the two. With the vowels conformity to any phonetic law whatever is the exception and not the rule. With the consonants the reverse is the case. Fortunate it is for the English-speaking race that such is the fact. Were it otherwise, were there with the consonants the same degree of irregularity which exists with the vowels, the same degree of variableness in the representation of sounds, the same widely prevalent indifference to analogy, knowledge of English spelling would not be delayed, as it is now, for no more than two or three years beyond the normal time of its acquisition; it would be the work of a lifetime. Mastery of it, under existing conditions never fully gained by some, would in such circumstances never be acquired by anybody who learned anything else.

There is one pervading characteristic of the consonants which differentiates their position in the orthography from that of the vowels. Wherever they appear they have ordinarily the pronunciation which is theirs by right. Ordinarily, not invariably. There are exceptions that demand full discussion. Still, the usual way in which consonants vary from the phonetic standard is not by being pronounced differently but by not being pronounced at all. In some instances the useless letter represents the derivation; in others it defies it. They have been retained in the spelling, though never pronounced, either because they are found in the primitive from which they came; or they have been introduced into it under the influence of a false analogy, or as a consequence of a false derivation. In any reform of the orthography it may not be desirable in some cases to drop--at all events at the outset--these now silent letters. It assuredly would not be so wherever the tendency manifests itself to resume them in pronunciation.

There are four of the consonants which practically do not vary from phonetic law. They are never silent; they always indicate the precise pronunciation which they purport to indicate. In the case of two of them there is in each a single instance in which the rule does not hold good. In the preposition _of_, _f_ has the sound of _v_. In the matter of inflection the temptation to retain this letter in spite of the change of sound has been successfully resisted. So we very properly say _calves_ and _wolves_ instead of _calfs_ and _wolfs_, though this course exhibits what some must feel to be a scandalous tendency toward phonetic spelling. The other letter is _m_. The only exception to its regular pronunciation is found in the word sometimes spelled _comptroller_. Here it has the sound of _n_. But this has already been pointed out as a well-known spurious form based upon a spurious derivation. Its first syllable was supposed to come from the French _compter_ and not from its real original, the Latin _contra_. The affection for this corrupt form now felt by some is in curious contrast with the attitude taken toward _count_ both as a verb and a noun. These words were once often spelled like the corresponding French _compte_ and _compter_. There was justification for this. They all came from the remote Latin original _computare_, in which the _p_ is found. Naturally this particular spelling was especially prevalent in the sixteenth century, when derivation ran rampant in the orthography; but the practice extended much later. Had _compt_ continued in use and fastened itself upon the language, we can imagine, but we cannot adequately express, the indignation that would now be felt by many worthy people at the proposal of any reformer to substitute for it _count_, and the picture of ruin to the speech that would be drawn as a result of such a wanton defiance of the derivation.

Let us now consider the unpronounced consonants. In the remote past such letters when no longer wanted were regularly dropped. Now they are as regularly retained. They are retained not because they are needed, but because they have become familiar to the eye. They naturally fall into three classes, according as they appear at the beginning, at the end, or in the middle of a word. To the first class belong _g_ and _k_ when followed by _n_; _w_ followed by _ho_ or by _r_; and the aspirate _h_. The failure to pronounce this last in certain words is too well known to need here more than a reference. Elsewhere, too, I have given an account of the gradual resumption of the sound of this letter.[23]

There are about half a dozen words in which an initial _g_ is silent. Of these _gnaw_ and _gnat_ may be taken as examples. There are more than double this number in which an initial _k_ before the same letter _n_ is not heard. These are adequately represented, with the different vowels following, by _knave_, _knee_, _knife_, _know_, and _knuckle_. Still more frequently unsounded is an initial _w_. There are fully two dozen and a half of words in which this letter is not pronounced. The class finds satisfactory exemplification in _who_, _whole_, _wrap_, _wrest_, _wrist_, _wrong_, and _wry_. In making up these numbers it must be kept in mind that neither derivatives nor compounds are taken into account. Were such to be included, the list would be largely swelled.

In the cases just considered a letter once sounded has disappeared from the spoken tongue. The fact of its disappearance from pronunciation has not, however, induced men, as was once the practice, to discard it from the written tongue. But there are instances in which the initial consonant has never been heard at all in the utterance of any speakers. The words to which they belong are of foreign origin. They come to us with the foreign spelling. In many cases, or rather in most, they are from the Greek. The conspicuous examples are the _c_ of _czar_, now frequently spelled _tsar_ with the _t_ sounded, the _p_ of _psalm_ and _pseudo_ and of several compounds in which the _psi_ of the Hellenic alphabet furnishes the initial letter. The same uselessness extends to _ph_--seen, for illustration, in the form _phthisic_--and to the _p_ of words of Greek origin beginning with _pt_. It may be remarked in passing that there is a curious blunder in the spelling of the name of the bird called the _ptarmigan_. This is a pure Celtic word, which begins with _t_. To it a _p_ was prefixed, possibly because it was supposed to be of Greek origin.

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.

One curious blunder has been foisted upon our spelling by the desire of men to go back to the Latin original of these words instead of contenting themselves with the immediate French one. The insertion of _b_ is bad enough in _redoubted_ and _redoubtable_. These came to us from the latter tongue, and at first appeared in English in the forms _redouted_ and _redoutable_. Later the classical influence made itself felt and the _b_ was inserted. Palliation for it could be pleaded on the ground that the letter belonged to the remote original. But no defence of this sort could be of avail in the case of the word denoting the military outwork called a _redoubt_. This has not the slightest connection either in sense or origin with the two adjectives just specified. It comes directly from the French _redout_ and remotely from the Latin _reductus_, ‘withdrawn,’ ‘retired,’ which received at a later period the meaning of ‘a place of refuge.’ But it was ignorantly supposed that it came from the same source as the verb _redoubt_ and its past participle _redoubted_. So from the beginning of the introduction of the word into the language, in the early part of the seventeenth century, an unauthorized _b_ was made part of it. It is now dear to the hearts of millions. What the blundering of one age perpetrated the superstition of succeeding ages has invested with peculiar sanctity.