Since, before the invention of printing, there was no standard of English spelling, our orthography can have no history before that epoch. The variety of forms in which words appeared was endless; for not only did different writers spell them differently, but one writer would often present his readers with several forms of the same word even in the same page. During the whole of our early history, then, the language can hardly be said to have had any fixed laws of spelling.

The orthography of Anglo-Saxon itself seems to have been very unsettled. Few words appeared invariably in the same form, and some had as many as three or four different modes of spelling. We find ‘Ác’ and ‘Æc’ (oak); ‘lang’ and ‘long’ (long); ‘geaf’ and ‘gef’ (give); ‘seolf,’ ‘self,’ and ‘sylf’ (self); ‘sweaster’ and ‘swuster’ (sister); ‘heauwod’ and ‘heafod’ (head), &c. &c.

The accent also made a difference in both the pronunciation and meaning of some words. Thus, ‘Ís’ meant ice, but ‘is’ (without the accent) was the 3rd singular present of the verb ‘to be.’ ‘God,’ in Anglo-Saxon, was, in spelling and meaning, our word ‘God;’ but ‘gÓd’ (pronounced ‘goad’) was our adjective ‘good,’ &c.

The marked difference in form between the Saxon and the early English was the substitution of e for the Saxon endings a, e, and u. Thus, ‘nama,’ ‘ende,’ and ‘wudu’ appeared in early English as name, ende, and woode (probably pronounced as two syllables). At a still later period there was a tendency to get rid not only of this e, but of the whole system of Anglo-Saxon inflections; and the nouns, adjectives, and verbs were stripped of nearly all their endings.

The only two inflections of the noun which survived this decay, and which may be traced to the present time, were the es of the possessive (or genitive) singular, and the as of the subjective (or nominative) plural. The Saxon for ‘of a smith’ was ‘smides,’ and the nominative plural of the same word was ‘smidas.’ Wiclif often uses ‘is’ as a plural ending, as in ‘housis,’ ‘barelis,’ &c. Caxton writes ‘thynges,’ and More, tythes, arrowes, &c. Now the usual ending is s; as in ‘books,’ trees, &c.

All the inflections of the adjectives also fell off; and instead of ‘godne’ (acc. sing.), ‘godes’ (gen. sing.), ‘godum,’ ‘godre’ (dat. pl.) these endings disappeared, and the word was reduced in all its cases and genders, and in both numbers, to ‘gÓd’ (good), as we now have it.

The verb lost its gerund, or rather the latter was confounded with the participle in ing; so that ‘writtane’ (for the purpose of writing) was used indiscriminately with ‘writende’ (writing); and many other terminations, though they did not wholly disappear, were weakened by the substitution of e for a, or en for an, as ‘bÆrnen’ for ‘bÆrnan.’ Afterwards the participle ending was changed from ende to and, thence to inge, and at last to ing, as we now have it. Thus:—‘writende,’ ‘writand,’ ‘writinge,’ ‘writing.’

Between the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there was a constant and increasing tendency to throw off the final e. Chaucer, Wiclif, and other writers of the fourteenth century, have numbers of words written with that ending, where it is now omitted, as ‘childe,’ ‘herte,’ ‘fynde,’ &c. But, in taking away this final, it became necessary, in some cases, to make another change in the spelling, in order to prevent a mispronunciation. The earlier form ‘mete,’ being deprived of its final e, would leave ‘met.’ Therefore, to preserve the long sound, the e medial was doubled, and the word stood ‘meet.’ The same principle operated in transforming ‘cloke’ into ‘cloak,’ ‘yere’ into ‘year,’ ‘scole’ into ‘school,’ ‘grete’ into ‘great,’ &c. The e final being taken away, it was necessary, in order to preserve the pronunciation, to lengthen the internal vowel.

The art of printing exercised a very powerful influence over English orthography. The first printers assumed at once an absolute power, not only in the matter of spelling and punctuation, but even in cases of expression and grammatical forms. The result was far from favourable to uniformity; for, as every printer had his own views on the subject, each consequently differed from the others, and this entailed endless confusion. The author’s punctuation and spelling were then always sacrificed to the printer’s convenience. If the writer used any words of doubtful or unsettled orthography, of which there was then a very large number, the printer assumed it as his right to add to, or take from them as many letters as he thought proper, to suit the length of the line. Many blunders also arose from the ignorance of the copyists. The various manuscripts of one poem sometimes differ so widely from each other, that modern scholars have supposed these varieties to have been the result of the author’s own revision. But the more probable cause of these differences is that the manuscript was copied by a number of different hands, and that consequently each differed from the other according to the views of such matters which each copyist had adopted.

We may safely conclude that in orthography, as in other matters, changes will take place. The phonographers say that, as the whole object of writing is to represent on paper the sounds of the human voice, every word should be spelled exactly as it is pronounced. But there are grave objections to this view. First, pronunciation itself is in a state of transition—as the present differs from the past, so will the future differ from the present—and therefore the spelling would have to be changed as often as the words were differently pronounced. Secondly, there are so many, and such delicate shades of sound in the human voice, that, to carry out this design properly, it would be necessary to invent innumerable characters to represent them. The remedy, then, would be worse than the disease, for the multitude of new and strange characters which this system would require would be far more puzzling to a learner than any of the existing difficulties.

On the other hand, the conservative party maintain that the proposed changes in spelling should not be admitted because they would obscure, if not destroy, the derivation of words. This argument has certainly considerable force. In the study of English, a knowledge of derivation is quite as important as correctness of spelling. Surely the one should not be wholly sacrificed to the other. Are we to lose the essence of the word for the mere sake of its outward appearance? It would certainly be a great gain to simplify our forms of spelling; but if, in so doing, we destroyed the etymology of the language, would our gain or our loss be the greater? The present forms of spelling are, in many cases, a key to the derivation of the word. How did the b get into ‘doubt’ and ‘debt,’ or the g into ‘feign’ and ‘impugn?’ These letters are left in the words expressly to show us their origin. When first introduced into English, ‘debt’ and ‘doubt’ were both written and pronounced as in French (‘dette’ and ‘doute’). But when it afterwards became known that they were originally derived from the Latin verbs ‘debere’ and ‘dubitare,’ the b was restored in the spelling.

Some argue that the influence of derivation on spelling is only partial, and that other and more powerful causes are operating changes in the forms of words. It is readily admitted that the language will, in time, yield to this pressure. But we must not precipitate matters; and there is something to be said on the other side of the question. The study of English has lately received a great impulse, and increased attention has been paid to its nature and origin. It is surely somewhat inconsistent to recommend this increased energy of study, and, at the same time, to throw obstacles in the student’s way! It is remarkable how long it takes to work a change of this sort. The writer can remember the controversy about the substitution of the final or for our for more than forty years back; and yet in that time very little progress has been made in the proposed reform. But there are obviously certain tendencies in the English language towards a new orthography, and we may point out with tolerable certainty what changes will be eventually effected.

The law of contraction is in constant operation in the spelling of words. It is this principle that has caused us to reject the final k in words of two or more syllables. K final is now confined chiefly to monosyllables. We retain it in ‘back,’ ‘peck,’ ‘stick,’ ‘rock,’ ‘duck,’ &c. Formerly ‘music,’ ‘critic,’ ‘traffic,’ &c. retained the k; now it has disappeared from these words. But it is evidently very loth to go; for it still holds its place in ‘attack,’ ‘ransack,’ ‘bullock,’ ‘hillock,’ &c., as well as in compound words, as ‘shipwreck,’ ‘weathercock,’ ‘wedlock,’ &c. It is possible that, at some future time, we shall be writing ‘bac,’ ‘pec,’ ‘stic,’ ‘roc,’ and ‘luc;’ but for the present we must, in these cases, add the k.

The same contracting tendency affects the forms of certain past tenses of verbs. We write ‘sent’ for ‘sended,’ ‘built’ for ‘builded,’ &c. Some would extend this contraction to all verbs ending in close consonants, as p, ck, f, or s. They would have us write ‘slapt,’ ‘drest,’ ‘hisst,’ ‘hopt,’ and ‘snufft.’ There is, no doubt, a leaning this way in the language. The verbs ‘creep,’ ‘feel,’ ‘sleep,’ &c. make, in the past tense, ‘crept,’ ‘felt,’ ‘slept,’ &c. But it will be some time before such forms as quafft, peept, pickt, hopt, and supt are generally adopted.

This contracting principle also originated the tendency to omit the u in the termination our. Most of the words which have this ending come to us from Latin through French, where the ending is eur, as seen in ‘honneur,’ ‘vigueur,’ ‘valeur,’ &c. American writers leave out the u in all these cases. They write ‘endeavor,’ ‘neighbor,’ behavior, &c. There is, no doubt, a tendency to omit the u in such words. It may be observed that most of the words which have lost this u are names of agents, as ‘actor,’ ‘author,’ ‘creator,’ ‘doctor,’ ‘governor,’ ‘orator,’ ‘sailor,’ ‘tailor,’ and ‘warrior;’ whereas comparatively few abstract nouns have rejected it, though it no longer appears in ‘error,’ ‘horror,’ ‘stupor,’ ‘terror,’ and ‘torpor.’

Another pair of endings—ise and ize—has given rise to a divided practice in spelling. The leaning here is decidedly towards ise. The words temporise, advertise, authorise, &c. were all formerly written with a z. Strictly speaking, ize should be used in those verbs of this class which can be traced directly to a Greek source, as ‘baptize,’ ‘idolize,’ ‘agonize;’ especially those used in a scientific sense, as catechize, symbolize, epitomize, &c. But many such words come to us through a French medium, as ‘criticise,’ ‘realise,’ ‘civilise.’ These should be spelled ise. In all probability, we shall some day reject the z altogether. The letter s seems to be taking its place in these and many other cases, as in ‘artisan,’ ‘partisan,’ &c. The late Dr. Donaldson was of opinion that all the above verbs should be spelled ise.

By the same law of contraction it is proposed to give up the diphthongs ae and oe, found in many English words derived from Greek and Latin, and to spell them all with a simple e. Many of this class have already adopted the change, for we now write ‘Egypt,’ ‘economy,’ ‘federal,’ ‘enigma,’ ‘phenomenon,’ ‘penal,’ &c. But it is reasonable to expect that many of them will retain the diphthong for some time. Proper names and scientific terms are likely to keep it longer, whilst in more familiar words it will, probably, give place to the single vowel. Accordingly we may predict that the diphthong will remain in ‘Æsop,’ Œdipus,’ ‘Ætna,’ ‘Œta,’ and ‘CÆsar,’ as well as in ‘archÆology,’ ‘anapÆst,’ ‘Æsthetic,’ cyclopÆdia,’ and ‘homoeopathy;’ while from such words as ‘economy,’ ‘pretor,’ ‘primeval,’ ‘equal,’ ‘edile,’ ‘edifice,’ &c., if not already gone, it will soon disappear altogether. There is here an economical tendency in favour of the single e, and the longer these words remain in the language, the more likely are they to be spelled with the single vowel.

In many English words there has been a sort of rivalry between the letters y and i, and the general tendency now is in favour of i. This does not seem to be a question of contraction. It is supposed to have arisen from a dislike of the printers to the ugly appearance of y in the middle of a word. Mandeville writes ‘lytil’ (little), ‘wyse’ (wise), ‘tymes’ (times); and Wiclif has ‘withynne’ (within), ‘receyve’ (receive), ‘wryte’ (write), ‘fayle’ (fail), ‘everlastyne’ (everlasting), &c. In certain Greek words, however, the y still holds its place, as in ‘hymn,’ ‘type,’ ‘hydra,’ ‘tyrant,’ ‘lyre,’ &c. These will probably long remain in the spelling.

One innovation proposed by the phonographers was to substitute a k for the ending que. All our words of this class are from the French, where the ending is invariably que. Many of these have already conformed to the English tendency, and are written with a k final, as ‘mask,’ ‘cask,’ ‘brisk,’ ‘risk,’ &c. These are monosyllables. But we hesitate to extend this practice to words of two or three syllables. We are not prepared to adopt such forms as ‘picturesk,’ ‘grotesk,’ ‘burlesk,’ &c. Nor is it likely that we shall be easily reconciled to ‘opake,’ ‘antike,’ ‘oblike,’ &c. In some few cases, if only to mark a difference of meaning, it is expedient to have two forms of spelling; for instance, between bark (of a tree) and barque (a vessel), check (a restraint) and cheque (on a banker), pike (a weapon) and pique (a petty quarrel), mark (a note or sign) and marque (a reprisal) as in ‘letters of marque.’

We ought not to conclude, because changes of spelling have been adopted in certain words, that similar changes should be applied to all the words of that class—because, for instance, the old forms ‘advaunce,’ ‘commaund,’ ‘chaunt,’ and others now appear as ‘advance,’ ‘command,’ ‘chant,’ we should, for this reason, write ‘tant,’ ‘hant,’ ‘dant,’ and ‘lanch’ instead of ‘taunt,’ ‘haunt,’ ‘daunt,’ and ‘launch.’ But nature and habit are not to be trifled with. Both experience and reason combat all sudden changes. If they are to be, they will come in good time; meanwhile let us watch and follow.

Again, the reformers of our spelling would have us cut off the ending ue from such words as ‘catalogue,’ ‘demagogue,’ ‘synagogue,’ ‘colleague,’ ‘harangue,’ ‘tongue,’ &c., and spell them ‘catalog,’ ‘demagog,’ &c. It may be most confidently predicted that, whatever may happen in the course of future ages, this change will not take place either in this or the next generation.

Another proposed change is to invert the ending re, and write it er, as being more in accordance with English pronunciation. That this is the tendency of the language is not to be denied, for it is well known that many English words now ending in er were formerly written re. Such are the Norman names of the months—‘Septembre,’ ‘Octobre,’ ‘Novembre,’ ‘Decembre,’ &c. Some of this class have not yet adopted the change, and still appear in their French forms, as ‘accoutre,’ ‘centre,’ ‘fibre,’ ‘lustre,’ ‘nitre,’ ‘ochre,’ &c. But it is to be noticed that these are not common words—not words of the homestead or market-place—and that therefore they are much more likely to retain their old forms. In some of them, also, it is desirable to have two modes of spelling. We have ‘meter’ in the sense of a measurer, as in ‘barometer,’ ‘thermometer,’ &c., and ‘metre’ in versification. ‘Center’ appears as a verb, and ‘centre’ as a noun. That most of this class will, in time, be spelled with the ending er is highly probable, but the above remark may account for their not having yet adopted that termination.

It has often been objected to our language that its study, as regards pronunciation and spelling, is more difficult than that of any of the continental languages. Foreigners endeavouring to master these difficulties are often quite overwhelmed by them, and not unfrequently give up the study in despair. But no language is without difficulties of this sort. Indeed, the difference between written and spoken French offers quite as formidable obstacles to the speller in French as could happen in English. The French words ‘ver’ (from ‘vermis,’ a worm), ‘vert’ (from ‘viridis,’ green), and ‘verre’ (from ‘vitrum,’ glass) are all pronounced exactly alike, and it is only by a knowledge of their derivation that one can account for the difference of their forms. Again, mÈre (from mater, a mother), mer (from mare, the sea), and maire (from major, greater) differ in spelling, though not in sound, because of their different derivations. If all these words had the same form of spelling because they have the same pronunciation, no one could trace them to their source or account for their meaning. We may, then, conclude that the proper spelling of a word depends mainly on its etymology, and that the reason why bad spelling is looked upon with such disfavour is, that it argues ignorance of derivation.

In all probability, if the project of instituting an English Academy for the regulation of our language were carried out, there would immediately arise innumerable protests against its decisions. It is well known that the literary decrees of the French Academy are not generally accepted or adopted, and that the opinions of some of the most eminent literati in France are directly against its conclusions. Besides, the spirit of the English people is so strongly opposed to dictation, in this as in other matters, that such an institution would stand no chance of success in this country.

It is too much the fashion now-a-days to find fault with English orthography, and it is also too much the fashion to acquiesce in its general condemnation. But, in truth, it is only those who have paid no attention to our language, as a scientific study, who can fail to recognise the causes of these objections. The three principal elements of English—viz. Saxon, French, and Latin—have, each, and all, had some influence on the formation of our words; and this will account for the various forms of our spelling. A word, when introduced into a language, is at first spelled in accordance with the genius of the nation from which it comes. By degrees, and generally by slow degrees, it is moulded into a new form by the genius and instinct of the language in which it is at length naturalised; still, however, retaining sufficient of its original form to indicate its source and etymology. Various causes contribute to effect this change; a difference in pronunciation; the influence of some local dialect, political, religious, or literary disputes, the example of popular writers, &c. &c. may all assist in working a change in the outward forms of words.

But a study of the subject will prove that this operation must be the work of time, and that no assumed power can, of itself, work a sudden change in spelling. This alone is sufficient to account for the failure of the phonographic system. It may also be laid down for certain, that any newly-proposed form of spelling which obscures or destroys the derivation of a word stands but little chance of success. The general body of writers knew full well that if they had at once adopted phonetic spelling, it would have inevitably involved the language in confusion and ruin by the destruction of its etymology, and would have thus effaced every vestige of its beauty and variety.