In the preceding dissertation I have endeavored to settle a number of controverted points and local differences in pronunciation, on the most satisfactory principles hitherto discovered. I now proceed to some other differences of consequence to the language, and particularly in America.

Gold is differently pronounced by good speakers, and differently marked by the standard writers. Two of them give us goold, as the standard, and three, gold or goold. But we may find better principles than the opinions or practice of individuals, to direct our judgement in this particular. The word indeed has the pronunciation, goold, in some of the collateral branches of the Teutonic, as in the Danish, where it is spelt guld. But in the Saxon, it was written gold, and has been uniformly written so in English. Besides, we have good reason to believe that it was, in early times, pronounced gold, with the first sound of o, for the poets invariably make it rhime with old, behold, and other words of similar sound. Thus in Chaucer:

Knight's Tale, L. 2143.

In Pope:

Essay on Man, Book 4.

The rhime is here a presumptive proof that the poets pronounced this word with the first sound of o, and it is a substantial reason why that pronunciation should be preferred. But analogy is a still stronger reason; for bold, told, fold, and I presume every similar word in the language, has the first sound of o. These are good reasons why gold should have that sound; reasons which are permanent, and superior to any private opinions.

Similar reasons, and equally forceable, are opposed to the modern pronunciation of wound. I say modern; for in America woond is a recent innovation. It was perhaps an ancient dialect; for the old Saxon and modern Danish orthography warrant this conjecture.

But in English the spelling has uniformly corresponded with bound, sound, and if we may judge from the rhimes of our poets, the pronunciation has also been analogous. Thus in Skelton's Elegy on Henry, Earl of Northumberland, 1489, we have the following lines:

Rel. An. Eng. Poet. vol. 1. page 113.

So in a song which seems to have been written in the reign of Henry VIII.

Ibm. page 165.

Similar rhimes occur in almost every page of modern poetry.

Pope.

The fashionable pronunciation of wound destroys the rhime and infringes the rule of analogy; two objections to it which can be removed only by universal practice. Does this practice exist? By no means. One good authority[62] at least, directs to the analogous pronunciation; and another compiler directs to both—the regular and the fashionable. But were woond the universal practice in Great Britain, this should not induce us to lay aside our own practice for a foreign one. There is but a small part, even of the well bred people in this country, who have yet adopted the English mode; and the great body of the people uniformly pursue analogy. The authority of practice therefore, is, in this country, opposed to the innovation. Shall we then relinquish what every man must acknowlege to be right, to embrace the corruptions of a foreign court and stage? Will not the Atlantic ocean, the total separation of America from Great Britain, the pride of an independent nation, the rules of the language, the melody of English poetry, restrain our rage for imitating the errors of foreigners?

But it is said that woond is softer than wound, and therefore more agreeable. Suppose the assertion to be true, will it follow that the softest pronunciation should be preferred?

It is acknowleged on all hands, that a correspondence between sound and sense is a beauty in language, and there are many words in our language, the sounds of which were borrowed from the sensible objects, the ideas of which they are designed to express. Such are the dashing of waters, the crackling of burning faggots, the hissing of serpents, the lisping of infants, and the stuttering of a stammerer. These are considered as beauties in a language. But there are other words, the sounds of which are not adopted in imitating audible noises, which are either soft or harsh, and by the help of association are particularly calculated to express ideas, which are either agreeable or disagreeable to the mind. Of this kind are soft and harsh, sweet and sour, and a multitude of others. On the supposition therefore, that woond is the softer pronunciation, this is a good reason why it should not be adopted; for the idea it conveys is extremely disagreeable, and much better represented by a harsh word.[63]

Skeptic for sceptic is mere pedantry; a modern change that has no advantage for its object. The Greek derivation will be pleaded as an authority; but this will not warrant the innovation, without extending it to scene, scepter, and many others. Will the advocates write and pronounce the latter skene, skepter? If not, they should be satisfied with analogy and former practice. It is remarkable however, that notwithstanding the authority of almost all the modern dictionaries is in favor of skeptic, no writer of reputation, whose works I have seen, has followed the spelling. The old orthography, sceptic, still maintains its ground.

Sauce with the fourth sound of a is accounted vulgar; yet this is the ancient, the correct, and the most general pronunciation. The aw of the North Britons is much affected of late; sawce, hawnt, vawnt; yet the true sound is that of aunt, jaunt, and a change can produce no possible advantage.

The words advertisement and chastisement are differently accented by the standard authors, and by people on both sides of the Atlantic. Let us find the analogy. The original words, advertise and chastise, are verbs, accented uniformly on the last syllable. Let us search thro the language for verbs of this description, and I presume we shall not find another instance, where, in nouns formed from such verbs, by the addition of ment, the seat of the accent is changed. We find amusement, refinement, refreshment, reconcilement, and many, perhaps all others, preserve the accent of their primitives; and in this analogy we find the reason why chastisement and advertisement should be accented on the last syllable but one. This analogy is a substantial and permanent rule, that will forever be superior to local customs.[64]

Similar remarks may be made respecting acceptable, admirable, disputable, comparable, which our polite speakers accent on the first syllable. The first is indeed accented on the second syllable, by most authors, except Sheridan, who still retains the accent on the first.

It was an old rule of grammarians, that the genius of our language requires the accent to be carried as far as possible towards the beginning of the word. This is seldom or never true; on the contrary, the rule is directly opposed to the melody, both of poetry and prose. Under the influence, however, of this rule, a long catalogue of words lost their true pronunciation, and among the rest, a great number of adjectives derived from verbs by an addition of the termination able. Some of these are restored to their analogy; others retain the accent on the first syllable.

Notwithstanding the authority of Sheridan, I presume few people will contend for the privilege of accenting acceptable on the first syllable. How the organs of any man can be brought to articulate so many consonants in the weak syllables, or how the ear can relish such an unnatural pronunciation, is almost inconceiveable. In spite of the pedantry of scholars, the ease and melody of speaking, have almost wholly banished the absurd practice, by restoring the accent to the second syllable.

But with respect to admirable, comparable and disputable, the authors who are deemed authorities are divided; some are in favor of the accent on the first syllable, and others adhere to analogy.

Setting aside custom, every reason for accenting these words on the first syllable, will apply with equal force to adviseable, inclineable, requireable, and a hundred others. They are all formed from verbs accented on the last syllable, by annexing the same termination to the verb, and they are all of the same part of speech. Let us examin them by the rules for accentuation, laid down in the preceding dissertation.

The primitive verbs of this class of words are usually compounded of a particle and principal part of speech; as ad-mi-ro, com-paro, re-quÆro, &c. The last syllable, derived from a verb, is the most important, and in the primitives, is invariably accented. This is agreeable to the first rule. In nine tenths of the derivatives, the same syllable retains the accent; as, perceiveable, available, deploreable. In these therefore both rules are observed. The third rule, or that which arises from the terminating syllable, is also preserved in most of this class of words. It is therefore much to be regretted, that a false rule should have introduced an irregularity into the language, by excepting a few words from an analogy, which unites in itself every principle of propriety.

But the practice, with respect to the three words under consideration, is by no means general. I have taken particular notice of the pronunciation of people in every part of America, and can testify that, in point of numbers, the practice is in favor of analogy. The people at large say admi'reable, dispu'teable, compa'reable; and it would be difficult to lead them from this easy and natural pronunciation, to embrace that forced one of ad'mirable, &c. The people are right, and, in this particular, will ever have it to boast of, that among the unlearned is found the purity of English pronunciation.

Of this class of words, there are a few which seem to be corrupted in universal practice; as reputable. The reason why the accent in this word is more generally confirmed on the first syllable, may be this; there is but a single consonant between the first and second syllable, and another between the second and third; so that the pronunciation of the three weak syllables is by no means difficult. This word therefore, in which all authors, and as far as I know, all men, agree to lay the accent on the first syllable, and the orthography of which renders the pronunciation easy, must perhaps be admitted as an exception to the general rule.[65]

Accessary or accessory, are differently accented by the best writers and speakers. But the ease of speaking requires that they should follow the rule of derivation, and retain the accent of the primitive, access'ary.

The fashionable pronunciation of such words as immediate, ministerial, commodious, is liable to particular exceptions. That i has a liquid sound, like y, in many words in our language, is not disputed; but the classes of words which will admit this sound, ought to be ascertained. It appears to me that common practice has determined this point. If we attend to the pronunciation of the body of people, who are led by their own ease rather than by a nice regard to fashion, we shall find that they make i liquid, or give it the sound of y consonant, after those consonants only, which admit that sound without any change of their own powers. These consonants are l, n, v, and the double consonant x; as valiant, companion, behavior, flexion. Here y might be substituted for i, without any change, or any tendency to a change, of the preceding consonant; except perhaps the change of si in flexion into sh, which is a general rule in the language, as it is to change ti and ci into the same sound.[66]

But when i is preceded by d, change it into y, and we cannot pronounce it with our usual rapidity, without blending the two letters into the sound of j, which is a compound of dzh; at least it cannot be effected without a violent exertion of the speaker. Immedyate is so difficult, that every person who attempts to pronounce it in that manner, will fall into immejate. Thus commodious, comedian, tragedian, are very politely pronounced commojus, comejan, trajejan. Such a pronunciation, changing the true powers of the letters, and introducing a harsh union of consonants, dxh, in the place of the smooth sound of dia, must be considered as a palpable corruption.

With respect to the terminations ial, ian, &c. after r, I must believe it impossible to blend these letters in one syllable. In the word ministerial, for example, I cannot conceive how ial can be pronounced yal, without a pause after the syllables, minister-. Sheridan's manner of pronouncing the letters ryan, ryal, in a syllable, appears to be a gross absurdity: Even allowing y to have the sound of e, we must of necessity articulate two syllables.

But supposing the modern pronunciation of immediate to be liable to none of these exceptions, there is another objection to it, arising from the construction of our poetry. To the short syllables of such words as every, glorious, different, bowery, commodious, harmonious, happier, ethereal, immediate, experience, our poetry is in a great measure indebted for the Dactyl, the Amphibrach, and the AnapÆst, feet which are necessary to give variety to versification, and the last of which is the most flowing, melodious and forceable foot in the language. By blending the two short syllables into one, we make the foot an Iambic; and as our poetry consists principally of iambics, we thus reduce our heroic verse to a dull uniformity. Take for example the following line of Pope.

If we pronounce it thus:

the line will be composed entirely of Iambics. But read it thus:

and the third foot, becoming an anapÆst, gives variety to the verse.

In the following line:

If we read happier and watry, as words of two syllables, the feet will all be Iambics, except the third, which is a Pyrrhic. But if we read happier and watery,[67] in three syllables, as we ought, we introduce two anapÆsts, and give variety and flowing melody to the verse.

These remarks will be more fully confirmed by attending to the last verse of the following distich:

Philosophic Solitude.

On Sheridan's principles, and by an elision of e in the, the last line is composed of pure Iambics; whereas in fact, the three last feet are anapÆsts; and to these the verse is, in some measure, indebted for its melody and the sublimity of the description.

These considerations are directly opposed to the fashionable pronunciation of immediate, and that whole analogy of words. In addition to this, I may remark, that it is not the practice of people in general. Whatever may be the character and rank of its advocates, in this country they compose but a small part, even of the literati.

Of MODERN CORRUPTIONS in the ENGLISH PRONUNCIATION.

I proceed now to examin a mode of pronouncing certain words, which prevails in England and some parts of America, and which, as it extends to a vast number of words, and creates a material difference between the orthography and pronunciation, is a matter of serious consequence.

To attack established customs is always hazardous; for mankind, even when they see and acknowlege their errors, are seldom obliged to the man who exposes them. The danger is encreased, when an opposition is made to the favorite opinions of the great; for men, whose rank and abilities entitle them to particular respect, will sooner dismiss their friends than their prejudices. Under this conviction, my present situation is delicate and embarrassing: But as some sacrifices must often be made to truth; and as I am conscious that a regard to truth only dictates what I write, I can sincerely declare, it is my wish to inform the understanding of every man, without wounding the feelings of an individual.

The practice to which I allude, is that of pronouncing d, t, and s preceding u; which letter, it is said, contains the sound of e or y and oo; and that of course education must be pronounced edyucation; nature, natyure; and superior, syuperior: From the difficulty of pronouncing which, we naturally fall into the sound of dzh, tsh, and sh: Thus education becomes edzhucation or ejucation; nature becomes natshure or nachure; and superior becomes shuperior.

How long this practice has prevailed in London, I cannot ascertain. There are a few words, in which it seems to have been universal from time immemorial; as, pleasure, and the other words of that analogy. But I find no reason to suppose the practice of pronouncing nature, duty, nachure, juty, prevailed before the period of Garrick's reputation on the stage.

On the other hand, the writers on the language have been silent upon this point, till within a few years; and Kenrick speaks of it as a Metropolitan pronunciation, supported by certain mighty fine speakers,[68] which implies that the practice is modern, and proves it to be local, even in Great Britain. But the practice has prevailed at court and on the stage for several years, and the reputation of a Garrick, a Sheridan and a Siddons, has given it a very rapid and extensive diffusion in the polite world. As the innovation is great and extends to a multitude of words, it is necessary, before we embrace the practice in its utmost latitude, to examin into its propriety and consequences.

The only reasons offered in support of the practice, are, the English or Saxon sound of u, which is said to be yu; and euphony, or the agreeableness of the pronunciation.

But permit me to enquire, on what do the advocates of this practice ground their assertion, that u had in Saxon the sound of eu or yu? Are there any testimonies to support it, among old writers of authority? In the course of my reading I have discovered none, nor have I ever seen one produced or referred to.

Will it be said, that yu is the name of the letter? But where did this name originate? Certainly not in the old Saxon practice, for the Saxons expressed this sound by ew, or eo: And I do not recollect a single word of Saxon origin, in which the warmest sticklers for the practice, give u this sound, even in the present age. Kenrick, who has investigated the powers of the English letters with much more accuracy than even Sheridan himself, observes, that we might with equal propriety, name the other vowels in the same manner, and say, ya, ye, yi, yo, as well as yu.[69]

U in union, use, &c. has the sound of yu; but these are all of Latin origin, and can be no proof that u had, in Saxon, the sound of ew or yu.

The whole argument is founded on a mistake. U in pure English has not the sound of ew, but a sound that approaches it; which is defined with great accuracy by the learned Wallis, who was one of the first correct writers upon English Grammar, and whose treatise is the foundation of Lowth's Introduction and all the best subsequent compilations.[70]

This writer defines the English letter u in these words, "Hunc sonum Extranei sere assequenter, si dipthongum iu conentur pronunciare; nempe i exile literÆ u, vel w preponentes; (ut in Hispanorum ciudad, civitas.) Non tamen idem est omnino sonus, quamvis, ad illum proxime, accedat; est enim iu sonus compositus, at Anglorum et Gallorum u sonus simplex."[71]—— Gram. Ling. Angl. Sect. 2.

This is precisely the idea I have ever had of the English u; except that I cannot allow the sound to be perfectly simple. If we attend to the manner in which we begin the sound of u in flute, abjure, truth, we shall observe that the tongue is not pressed to the mouth so closely as in pronouncing e; the aperture of the organs is not so small; and I presume that good speakers, and am confident that most people, do not pronounce these words fleute, abjeure, treuth. Neither do they pronounce them floote, abjoore, trooth; but with a sound formed by an easy natural aperture of the mouth, between iu and oo; which is the true English sound. This sound, however obscured by affectation in the metropolis of Great Britain and the capital towns in America, is still preserved by the body of the people in both countries. There are a million descendants of the Saxons in this country who retain the sound of u in all cases, precisely according to Wallis's definition. Ask any plain countryman, whose pronunciation has not been exposed to corruption by mingling with foreigners, how he pronounces the letters, t, r, u, th, and he will not sound u like eu, nor oo, but will express the real primitive English u. Nay, if people wish to make an accurate trial, let them direct any child of seven years old, who has had no previous instruction respecting the matter, to pronounce the words suit, tumult, due, &c. and they will thus ascertain the true sound of the letter. Children pronounce u in the most natural manner; whereas the sound of iu requires a considerable effort, and that of oo, a forced position of the lips. Illiterate persons therefore pronounce the genuin English u, much better than those who have attempted to shape their pronunciation according to the polite modern practice. As singular as this assertion may appear, it is literally true. This circumstance alone would be sufficient to prove that the Saxons never pronounced u like yu; for the body of a nation, removed from the reach of conquest and free from a mixture of foreigners, are the safest repositories of ancient customs and general practice in speaking.

But another strong argument against the modern practice is, that the pretended dipthong, iu or yu, is heard in scarcely a single word of Saxon origin. Almost all the words in which d, t and s are converted into other letters, as education, due, virtue, rapture, superior, supreme, &c. are derived from the Latin or French; so that the practice itself is a proof that the principles on which it is built, are false. It is pretended that the English or Saxon sound of u requires the pronunciation, edzhucation, natshure, and yet it is introduced almost solely into Latin and French words. Such an inconsistency refutes the reasoning and is a burlesque on its advocates.

This however is but a small part of the inconsistency. In two other particulars the absurdity is still more glaring.

1. The modern refiners of our language distinguish two sounds of u long; that of yu and oo; and use both without any regard to Latin or Saxon derivation. The distinction they make is founded on a certain principle; and yet I question whether one of a thousand of them ever attended to it. After most of the consonants, they give u the dipthongal sound of eu; as in blue, cube, due, mute; but after r they almost invariably pronounce it oo; as rule, truth, rue, rude, fruit. Why this distinction? If they contend for the Saxon sound of u, why do they not preserve that sound in true, rue, truth, which are of Saxon original; and uniformly give u its Roman sound, which is acknowleged on all hands to have been oo, in all words of Latin original, as rule, mute, cube? The fact is, they mistake the principle on which the distinction is made; and which is merely accidental, or arises from the ease of speaking.

In order to frame many of the consonants, the organs are placed in such a position, that in passing from it to the aperture necessary to articulate the following vowel or dipthong, we insensibly fall into the sound of ee. This in particular is the case with those consonants which are formed near the seat of e; viz. k and g. The closing of the organs forms these mutes; and a very small opening forms the vowel e. In passing from that close compression occasioned by k and g, to the aperture necessary to form any vowel, the organs are necessarily placed in a situation to pronounce ee. From this single circumstance, have originated the most barbarous dialects or singularities in speaking English, which offend the ear, either in Great Britain or America.

This is the origin of the New England keow, keoward; and of the English keube, ackeuse, keind and geuide.

There is just the same propriety in one practice as the other, and both are equally harmonious.

For similar reasons, the labials, m and p, are followed by e: In New England, we hear it in meow, peower, and in Great Britain, in meute, peure. With this difference however, that in New England, this pronunciation is generally confined to the more illiterate part of the people, and in Great Britain it prevails among those of the first rank. But after r we never hear the sound of e: It has been before observed, that the most awkward countryman in New England pronounces round, ground, brown, as correctly as men of the first education; and our fashionable speakers pronounce u after r like oo. The reason is the same in both cases: In pronouncing r the mouth is necessarily opened (or rather the glottis) to a position for articulating a broad full sound. So that the vulgar singularities in this respect, and the polite refinements of speaking, both proceed from the same cause; both proceed from an accidental or careless narrow way of articulating certain combinations of letters; both are corruptions of pure English; equally disagreeable and indefensible. Both may be easily corrected by taking more pains to open the teeth, and form full bold sounds.

2. But another inconsistency in the modern practice, is the introducing an e[72] before the second sound of u as in tun; or rather changing the preceding consonant; for in nature, rapture, and hundreds of other words, t is changed into tsh; and yet no person pretends that u, in these words, has a dipthongal sound. On the other hand, Sheridan and his copier, Scott, have in these and similar words marked u for its short sound, which is universally acknowleged to be simple. I believe no person ever pretended, that this sound of u contains the sound of e or y; why then should we be directed to pronounce nature, natyur? Or what is equally absurd, natshur? On what principle is the t changed into a compound consonant? If there is any thing in this sound of u to warrant this change, does it not extend to all words where this sound occurs? Why do not our standard writers direct us to say tshun for tun, and tshumble for tumble? I can conceive no reason which will warrant the pronunciation in one case, that will not apply with equal force in the other. And I challenge the advocates of the practice, to produce a reason for pronouncing natshur, raptshur, captshur, which will not extend to authorize, not only tshun, tshurn, for tun, turn, but also fatshal for fatal, and immortshal for immortal.[73] Nay, the latter pronunciation is actually heard among some very respectable imitators of fashion; and is frequent among the illiterate, in those states where the tshu's are most fashionable. How can it be otherwise? People are led by imitation; and when those in high life embrace a singularity, the multitude, who are unacquainted with its principles or extent, will attempt to imitate the novelty, and probably carry it much farther than was ever intended.

When a man of little education hears a respectable gentleman change t into tsh in nature, he will naturally be led to change the same letter, not only in that word, but wherever it occurs. This is already done in a multitude of instances, and the practice if continued and extended, might eventually change t, in all cases, into tsh.

I am sensible that some writers of novels and plays have ridiculed the common pronunciation of creatur and nutur, by introducing these and similar words into low characters, spelling them creater, nater: And the supporters of the court pronunciation allege, that in the vulgar practice of speaking, the letter e is sounded and not u: So extremely ignorant are they of the nature of sounds and the true powers of the English letters. The fact is, we are so far from pronouncing e in the common pronunciation of natur, creatur, &c. that e is always sounded like short u, in the unaccented syllables of over, sober, banter, and other similar words. Nay, most of the vowels, in such syllables, sound like i or u short.[74] Liar, elder, factor, are pronounced liur, eldur, factur, and this is the true sound of u in creatur, nature, rapture, legislature, &c.

I would just observe further, that this pretended dipthong iu was formerly expressed by ew and eu, or perhaps by eo, and was considered as different from the sound of u. In modern times, we have, in many words, blended the sound of u with that of ew, or rather use them promiscuously. It is indifferent, as to the pronunciation, whether we write fuel or fewel. And yet in this word, as also in new, brew, &c. we do not hear the sound of e, except among the Virginians, who affect to pronounce it distinctly, ne-ew, ne-oo, fe-oo. This affectation is not of modern date, for Wallis mentions it in his time and reprobates it. "Eu, ew, eau, sonanter per e clarum et w; ut in neuter, few, beauty. Quidem tamen accutius efferunt, acsi scriberentur niew ter, fiew, bieuty. At prior pronunciatio rectior est."——Gram. Ling. Ang.

Here this author allows these combinations to have the sound of yu or iu; but disapproves of that refinement which some affect, in giving the e or i short its distinct sound.

The true sound of the English u, is neither ew, with the distinct sounds of e and oo; nor is it oo; but it is that sound which every unlettered person utters in pronouncing solitude, rude, threw, and which cannot easily be mistaken. So difficult is it to avoid the true sound of u, that I have never found a man, even among the ardent admirers of the stage pronunciation, who does not retain the vulgar sound, in more than half the words of this class which he uses. There is such a propensity in men to be regular in the construction and use of language, that they are often obliged, by the customs of the age, to struggle against their inclination, in order to be wrong, and still find it impossible to be uniform in their errors.

The other reason given to vindicate the polite pronunciation, is euphony. But I must say with Kenrick,[75] I cannot discover the euphony; on the contrary, the pronunciation is to me both disagreeable and difficult. It is certainly more difficult to pronounce two consonants than one. Ch, or, which is the same thing, tsh, is a more difficult sound than t; and dzh, or j, more difficult than d. Any accurate ear may perceive the difference in a single word, as in natur, nachur. But when two or three words meet, in which we have either of these compound sounds, the difficulty becomes very obvious; as the nachural feachurs of indivijuals. The difficulty is increased, when two of these churs and jurs occur in the same word. Who can pronounce these words, "at this junctshur it was conjectshured"—or "the act passed in a tshumultshuous legislatshur," without a pause, or an extreme exertion of the lungs? If this is euphony to an English ear, I know not what sounds in language can be disagreeable. To me it is barbarously harsh and unharmonious.

But supposing the pronunciation to be relished by ears accustomed to it (for custom will familiarize any thing) will the pleasure which individuals experience, balance the ill effects of creating a multitude of irregularities? Is not the number of anomalies in our language already sufficient, without an arbitrary addition of many hundreds? Is not the difference between our written and spoken language already sufficiently wide, without changing the sounds of a number of consonants?

If we attend to the irregularities which have been long established in our language, we shall find most of them in the Saxon branch. The Roman tongue was almost perfectly regular, and perhaps its orthography and pronunciation were perfectly correspondent. But it is the peculiar misfortune of the fashionable practice of pronouncing d, t, and s, before u, that it destroys the analogy and regularity of the Roman branch of our language; for those consonants are not changed in many words of Saxon original. Before this affectation prevailed, we could boast of a regular orthography in a large branch of our language; but now the only class of words, which had preserved a regular construction, are attacked, and the correspondence between the spelling and pronunciation, destroyed, by those who ought to have been the first to oppose the innovation.[76]

Should this practice be extended to all words, where d, t and s precede u, as it must before it can be consistent or defensible, it would introduce more anomalies into our tongue, than were before established, both in the orthography and construction. What a perverted taste, and what a singular ambition must those men possess, who, in the day light of civilization and science, and in the short period of an age, can go farther in demolishing the analogies of an elegant language, than their unlettered ancestors proceeded in centuries, amidst the accidents of a savage life, and the shocks of numerous invasions!

But it will be replied, Custom is the legislator of language, and custom authorizes the practice I am reprobating. A man can hardly offer a reason, drawn from the principles of analogy and harmony in a language, but he is instantly silenced with the decisive, jus et norma loquendi.[77]

What then is custom? Some writer has already answered this question; "Custom is the plague of wise men and the idol of fools." This was probably said of those customs and fashions which are capricious and varying; for there are many customs, founded on propriety, which are permanent and constitute laws.

But what kind of custom did Horace design to lay down as the standard of speaking? Was it a local custom? Then the keow of New England; the oncet and twicet of Pennsylvania and Maryland; and the keind and skey of the London theaters, form rules of speaking. Is it the practice of a court, or a few eminent scholars and orators, that he designed to constitute a standard? But who shall determine what body of men forms this uncontrollable legislature? Or who shall reconcile the differences at court? For these eminent orators often disagree. There are numbers of words in which the most eminent men differ: Can all be right? Or what, in this case, is the custom which is to be our guide?

Besides these difficulties, what right have a few men, however elevated their station, to change a national practice? They may say, that they consult their own ears, and endeavor to please themselves. This is their only apology, unless they can prove that the changes they make are real improvements. But what improvement is there in changing the sounds of three or four letters into others, and thus multiplying anomalies, and encreasing the difficulty of learning a language? Will not the great body of the people claim the privilege of adhering to their ancient usages, and believing their practice to be the most correct? They most undoubtedly will.

If Horace's maxim is ever just, it is only when custom is national; when the practice of a nation is uniform or general. In this case it becomes the common law of the land, and no one will dispute its propriety. But has any man a right to deviate from this practice, and attempt to establish a singular mode of his own? Have two or three eminent stage players authority to make changes at pleasure, and palm their novelties upon a nation under the idea of custom? The reader will pardon me for transcribing here the opinion of the celebrated Michaelis, one of the most learned philologers of the present century. "It is not," says he, "for a scholar to give laws nor proscribe established expressions: If he takes so much on himself he is ridiculed, and deservedly; it is no more than a just mortification to his ambition, and the penalty of his usurping on the rights of the people. Language is a democratical state, where all the learning in the world does not warrant a citizen to supersede a received custom, till he has convinced the whole nation that this custom is a mistake. Scholars are not so infallible that every thing is to be referred to them. Were they allowed a decisory power, the errors of language, I am sure, instead of diminishing, would be continually increasing. Learned heads teem with them no less than the vulgar; and the former are much more imperious, that we should be compelled to defer to their innovations and implicitly to receive every false opinion of theirs."[78]

Yet this right is often assumed by individuals, who dictate to a nation the rules of speaking, with the same imperiousness as a tyrant gives laws to his vassals: And, strange as it may appear, even well bred people and scholars, often surrender their right of private judgement to these literary governors. The ipse dixit of a Johnson, a Garrick, or a Sheridan, has the force of law; and to contradict it, is rebellion. Ask the most of our learned men, how they would pronounce a word or compose a sentence, and they will immediately appeal to some favorite author whose decision is final. Thus distinguished eminence in a writer often becomes a passport for innumerable errors.

The whole evil originates in a fallacy. It is often supposed that certain great men are infallible, or that their practice constitutes custom and the rule of propriety. But on the contrary, any man, however learned, is liable to mistake; the most learned, as Michaelis observes, often teem with errors, and not unfrequently become attached to particular systems, and imperious in forcing them upon the world.[79] It is not the particular whim of such men, that constitutes custom; but the common practice of a nation, which is conformed to their general ideas of propriety. The pronunciation of keow, keind, drap, juty, natshur, &c. are neither right nor wrong, because they are approved or censured by particular men; nor because one is local in New England, another in the middle states, and the others are supported by the court and stage in London. They are wrong, because they are opposed to national practice; they are wrong, because they are arbitrary or careless changes of the true sounds of our letters; they are wrong, because they break in upon the regular construction of the language; they are wrong, because they render the pronunciation difficult both for natives and foreigners; they are wrong, because they make an invidious distinction between the polite and common pronunciation, or else oblige a nation to change their general customs, without presenting to their view one national advantage. These are important, they are permanent considerations; they are superior to the caprices of courts and theaters; they are reasons that are interwoven in the very structure of the language, or founded on the common law of the nation; and they are a living satire upon the licentiousness of modern speakers, who dare to slight their authority.

But let us examin whether the practice I am censuring is general or not; for if not, it cannot come within Horace's rule. If we may believe well informed gentlemen, it is not general even in Great Britain. I have been personally informed, and by gentlemen of education and abilities, one of whom was particular in his observation, that it is not general, even among the most eminent literary characters in London. It is less frequent in the interior counties, where the inhabitants still speak as the common people do in this country. And Kenrick speaks of it as an affectation in the metropolis which ought to be discountenanced.

But whatever may be the practice in England or Ireland, there are few in America who have embraced it, as it is explained in Sheridan's Dictionary. In the middle and southern states, there are a few, and those well bred people, who have gone far in attempting to imitate the fashion of the day.[80] Yet the body of the people, even in these states, remain as unfashionable as ever; and the eastern states generally adhere to their ancient custom of speaking, however vulgar it may be thought by their neighbors.[81] Suppose custom therefore to be the jus et norma, the rule of correct speaking, and in this country, it is directly opposed to the plan now under consideration.

As a nation, we have a very great interest in opposing the introduction of any plan of uniformity with the British language, even were the plan proposed perfectly unexceptionable. This point will be afterwards discussed more particularly; but I would observe here, that the author who has the most admirers and imitators in this country, has been censured in London, where his character is highly esteemed, and that too by men who are confessedly partial to his general plan. In the critical review of Sheridan's Dictionary, 1781, there are the following exceptions to his standard.

"Nevertheless our author must not be surprized if, in a matter, in its nature so delicate and difficult, as that concerning which he treats, a doubt should here and there arise, in the minds of the most candid critics, with regard to the propriety of his determinations. For instance, we would wish him to reconsider, whether, in the words which begin with super, such as superstition, supersede, he is right in directing them to be pronounced shooper. Whatever might be the case in Queen Anne's time, it doth not occur to us, that any one at present, above the lower ranks, speaks these words with the sound of sh; or that a good reason can be given, for their being thus sounded. Nay their being thus spoken is contrary to Mr. Sheridan's own rule; for he says that the letter s always preserves its own proper sound at the beginning of words."

Here we are informed by this gentleman's admirers, that, in some instances, he has imposed upon the world, as the standard of purity, a pronunciation which is not heard, except among the lower ranks of people, and directly opposed to his own rule. The reviewers might have extended their remarks to many other instances, in which he has deviated from general practice and from every rule of the language. Yet at the voice of this gentleman, many of the Americans are quitting their former practice, and running into errors with an eagerness bordering on infatuation.

Customs of the court and stage, it is confessed, rule without resistance in monarchies. But what have we to do with the customs of a foreign nation? Detached as we are from all the world, is it not possible to circumscribe the power of custom, and lay it, in some degree, under the influence of propriety? We are sensible that in foreign courts, a man's reputation may depend on a genteel bow, and his fortune may be lost by wearing an unfashionable coat. But have we advanced to that stage of corruption, that our highest ambition is to be as particular in fashions as other nations? In matters merely indifferent, like modes of dress, some degree of conformity to local custom is necessary;[82] but when this conformity requires a sacrifice of any principle of propriety or moral rectitude, singularity becomes an honorable testimony of an independent mind. A man of a great soul would sooner imitate the virtues of a cottage, than the vices of a court; and would deem it more honorable to gain one useful idea from the humble laborer, than to copy the vicious pronunciation of a splendid court, or become an adept in the licentious principles of a Rochester and a Littleton.

It will not be disputed that Sheridan and Scott have very faithfully published the present pronunciation of the English court and theater. But if we may consult the rules of our language and consider them as of any authority; if we may rely on the opinions of Kenrick and the reviewers; if we may credit the best informed people who have travelled in Great Britain, this practice is modern and local, and considered, by the judicious and impartial, even of the English nation, as a gross corruption of the pure pronunciation.

Such errors and innovations should not be imitated, because they are found in authors of reputation. The works of such authors should rather be considered as lights to prevent our falling upon the rocks of error. There is no more propriety in our imitating the practice of the English theater, because it is described by the celebrated Sheridan, than there is in introducing the manners of Rochester or the principles of Bolingbroke, because these were eminent characters; or than there is in copying the vices of a Shylock, a Lovelace, or a Richard III. because they are well described by the masterly pens of Shakespear and Richardson. So far as the correctness and propriety of speech are considered as important, it is of as much consequence to oppose the introduction of that practice in this country, as it is to resist the corruption of morals, which ever attends the wealthy and luxurious stage of national refinements.

Had Sheridan adhered to his own rules and to the principle of analogy; had he given the world a consistent scheme of pronunciation, which would not have had, for its unstable basis, the fickle practice of a changeable court, he would have done infinite service to the language: Men of science, who wish to preserve the regular construction of the language, would have rejoiced to find such a respectable authority on the side of propriety; and the illiterate copiers of fashion must have rejected faults in speaking, which they could not defend.[83]

The corruption however has taken such deep root in England, that there is little probability it will ever be eradicated. The practice must there prevail, and gradually change the whole structure of the Latin derivatives. Such is the force of custom, in a nation where all fashionable people are drawn to a point, that the current of opinion is irresistible; individuals must fall into the stream and be borne away by its violence; except perhaps a few philosophers, whose fortitude may enable them to hold their station, and whose sense of propriety may remain, when their power of opposition has ceased.

But our detached situation, local and political, gives us the power, while pride, policy, and a regard for propriety and uniformity among ourselves, should inspire us with a disposition, to oppose innovations, which have not utility for their object.

We shall find it difficult to convince Englishmen that a corrupt taste prevails in the British nation. Foreigners view the Americans with a degree of contempt; they laugh at our manners, pity our ignorance, and as far as example and derision can go, obtrude upon us the customs of their native countries. But in borrowing from other nations, we should be exceedingly cautious to separate their virtues from their vices; their useful improvements from their false refinements. Stile and taste, in all nations, undergo the same revolutions, the same progress from purity to corruption, as manners and government; and in England the pronunciation of the language has shared the same fate. The Augustan era is past, and whether the nation perceive and acknowlege the truth or not, the world, as impartial spectators, observe and lament the declension of taste and science.

The nation can do little more than read the works and admire the beauties of the original authors, who have adorned the preceding ages. A few, ambitious of fame, or driven by necessity, croud their names into the catalogue of writers, by imitating some celebrated model, or by compiling from the productions of genius. Nothing marks more strongly the declension of genius in England, than the multitude of plays, farces, novels and other catchpenny pieces, which swell the list of modern publications; and that host of compilers, who, in the rage for selecting beauties and abridging the labor of reading, disfigure the works of the purest writers in the nation. Cicero did not waste his talents in barely reading and selecting the beauties of Demosthenes; and in the days of Addison, the beauties of Milton, Locke and Shakespear were to be found only in their works. But taste is corrupted by luxury; utility is forgotten in pleasure; genius is buried in dissipation, or prostituted to exalt and to damn contending factions, and to amuse the idle debauchees that surround a licentious stage.[84]

These are the reasons why we should not adopt promiscuously their taste, their opinions, their manners. Customs, habits, and language, as well as government should be national. America should have her own distinct from all the world. Such is the policy of other nations, and such must be our policy, before the states can be either independent or respectable. To copy foreign manners implicitly, is to reverse the order of things, and begin our political existence with the corruptions and vices which have marked the declining glories of other republics.