An allegorical tapestry, spelling, and an opinion

I have heard an uncommon amount of grumbling about the way our language operates when written. In fact, I have recently discovered that there is a large modern movement that dedicates itself to the 'reformation' of English spelling, whose soul ambition in life is to do away with 'knee' and 'though' and 'ballet', to be replaced with the much more logical and understandable 'nee' and 'thow' and 'balay'. The irregularity and almost illogicality of our spelling seems to be a favorite topic of dissatisfaction to the general, English speaking heart. In fact, more than once I have caught myself grumbling about the cursed silent 'g' in dough, of the 'ph' instead of a perfectly good 'f' in 'philanthropy'.

I own that it is an indisputable fact that my life, and I think myself correct in saying the lives of very many, would be made decidedly more simple if spelling were phonetic and regular.

Just as simple as life would be if we did not bother about a diverse range of meals and lived purely on gruel. Or perhaps how very easy it would be if we did not go through the trouble of building beautiful houses and lived in neat blocks of efficient flats. What need have we for so many colours when the simple shades of black and white will do perfectly well in any matter of necessity? What need we for coffee and tea when warm water and a caffeine supplement would suffice? What need we for beauty and art if our goal is to be simple! In fact, if our goal is simplicity, beauty and humanity must be our enemies.

The modern world seems so tied up in its foolish pursuit of convenience and efficacy that we are well on our way to destroying one of the greatest and most beautiful features of our language. English is tied by her strange spelling to her history and development. Imagine for a moment a magnificent tapestry woven through many generations; in it we might see the hand of each generation and trace its thread. Looking at the whole, perhaps we will think that this strange, gigantic tapestry would look neater if there was not such a muddy green right next to the thick, luminous pink. Or mayhap we shall think a certain shape slightly less malformed if it were completed with a uniform color. Yet, in these strange features we are forced to remember the hand of our grandmother and her absurd preference for pink, or perhaps the time in which muddy green was the only thread cheap enough for our struggling ancestor. In other words, the tapestry becomes more then an art work, it becomes a physical tie to our past and a reminder of many important facts that might be otherwise forgotten.

English is, well, English for the fact that she is something of an elegant (and sometimes not so elegant) amalgamation of many languages and by her spelling we are forever reminded of this. She is by definition a Germanic language; the foundation of English is derived from the Angles, Saxons and the Jutes (all three, Germanic peoples). And yet, more then half of the vocabulary of English is Romantic (Latin based). 1066 AD the Norman French conquered England and thus Norman French sized his place in the language. Much of the Latin influence in English came through French (a Romantic language), and some directly through the influence of the Roman Church prior to the Norman conquest. Furthermore, since Latin borrowed much vocabulary from Greek, English, through Latin, maintains this heritage also.

We see within English vocabulary and spelling something of the internal relationship of all these cultures as they came into contact with each other. We see the struggling remains of the heavily declined Germanic roots in our irregular plural for ox and brother (oxen and brethren). We might also see, if we look, the relationship between the Norman French and the common Germanic people of England in the middle ages, as well as the spiritual and intellectual influence of Latin and through Latin, Greek.

I will take an example that I have always found diverting to illustrate the relationship between the French (the ruling class in in England from 1066) and early English. In modern English vocabulary our word for a cow is, well, 'cow'. But our word for the meat of a cow is 'beef'. Why is this? Why do we not just call it 'cow'? Aha! 'Cow' is of Germanic origin, presumably because the working classes in England (who spoke various dialects of Old English which is primarily Germanic) spent their time with the nurturing of actual livestock and woefully little of their life eating it. While 'beef' is from Old French 'buef ' (cow) since the noble Frenchmen had, naturally, much more 'ado' with the consumption of the slaughtered animal, than the living cow.

Have you ever wondered why with the neat little word 'church' in use, the study of the church should be termed 'ecclesiology' and not just 'church-ology'? Or perhaps with the perfectly good word 'fish', why we name a person who eats fish a 'pescatarian' ? Why should we disregard our number system when we speak of a number of children (quadruplets vs. 'four-lets') or of sides on shapes (hexagon vs. 'six-agon')?

All this is because Latin, being the language of learning and the Church in the Middle Ages, has naturally found its place in our English vocabulary when we speak of learned matters, as well as spiritual and philosophical matters. Furthermore, since much of the high vocabulary of Latin is actually of Greek origin, many of our high words find their root in Greek.

Since the standardization of English spelling, we can see clearly these internal relationships of culture and thought of the many languages that make up English as we have her today. The glorious amalgamation the makes English what she is.

In our spelling we retain certain sounds once articulated in Germanic words such as 'knight' and 'thought' . With words of Greek origin, we retain somewhat of the Greek pronunciation in our spelling for example 'psychology' and 'Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis'. With words of French origin we have retained both the French spelling and pronunciation, as in 'chivalrous' we pronounce in the French manner 'shivulrous', or bouquet we pronounce 'boekay'

Yet, not merely as an academic pursuit to discover the origin of a word should we cling to 'debt' and 'encourage', but out of respect for a language so much deeper than we could invent upon our own whim. As a tangible reminder of our past and the meaning engrafted in every word as it has been used through countless ages and generations. In words of one worthy English gentlemen1:

"Generally" is an exultant metaphysical term, 'jenrally' is not. If you "encourage" a man you pour into him the chivalry of a hundred princes, this does not happen if you merely 'inkurij' him. "Republics" if spelt phonetically might actually forget to be public. "Holidays" if spelt phonetically might actually forget to be holy."

English is English because of her history. Because she has been chopped by the swards of a hindered kings, and built by the bricks of a hundred surfs. In her structure we might see the robes of countless churchmen and hear the echoes of a hundred musing philosophers. Surely it should never be considered to destroy such magnificence upon the petty grounds of convenience and simplicity!

I am, I admit, the last person you might expect to be fighting for the rights of English spelling. To this day, my spelling is atrocious. I cannot seem to remember the spelling of even the simplest word. I use spellcheck with uncanny dependency and am cause for much merriment when said spellcheck is not accessible. I do not mean to hang my argument of English spelling upon ones skill in using or even understanding it. For, who will tell me that because I personally find it rather difficult to make any food besides gruel, that I may not cherish Liver Patte?

Who can tell me that because I am not as skilled a weaver as my great uncle I should burn the tapestry!

1. G.K. Chesterton, "Phonetic Spelling"