H. L. Mencken has much to say about the American language in his books by the same title.
Regarding Ben Franklin; "In 1768, to be sure, the ever busy and iconoclastic Benjamin Franklin had published " A Scheme for a New Alphabet and a Reformed Mode of Spelling,"and induced a Philadelphia type-founder to cut the six new characters that it demanded, but this project was too extravagant to be adopted anywhere, or to have any appreciable influence. The Scheme is reprinted in Franklin's Words, edited by John Bigelow; New York, 1887-8; Vol IV, p. 198ff. The six new characters were a modified a for the long a in ball, a h upside down for the u in unto, a combination of long s and i for the sh in wish, a y with a curled tail for ng, an h with a curled tail for the th in think, and a somewhat similar h, but with a wavy appendage at the top, for the th of thy. Franklin expunged c, w, y and j from the alphabet as unnecessary. He proposed that the vowels be differentiated by using one letter for the short ones and two for the long ones.
He made a trial of his new alphabet in a letter to Miss Stephenson of London, apparently a bluestocking of the time. She replied on September 26, 1768, saying that she could si meni inkanviiniensis in it. He defended it in a letter from Kreven striit, London, September 28."
Of course Ben Franklin was addressing the learned ones. But how about those that put his words to paper. There were more pressing matters (a pun as you shall see.)
Look at most ever book and you shall see (with the exception of poetry and a few others) that there is both left and right hand justification. Why this has lived with us for so long is peculiar but it's a fact that tradition imposed and continues to impose this as the right and proper way the printed word should appear. Revisit the time when the printing press was sweeping the world. In an age when computers were notches cut in a stick (as the Indians did as a matter of record.), the formatting of the printed word was a matter of both necessity and convenience.
The printer used a "composing-stick" which he held in his left hand and placed each lead type piece into the slot that held them in reverse order from which they would appear when on the printed page. All was well and good with the letters occupying space, not unlike the way the IBM executive typewriter did with letters such as m and w occupying more space than o or e and much more than the letter i. Space was provided between words with a lead that had no letter upon it. As the printer went about his business, he strung the letters in a line until he reached the near end of what would be the left edge. Alas, it wasn't going to be in line with the other left edges. What to do?
Most, as they became practiced in the art where able to judge before hand that the spacing would need to be adjusted, so blanks (spaces) were provide in three sizes. With these small blanks to be placed between each letter of a word, it could be gently spread without being too obvious. Unfortunately, in some instances the left margin just wouldn't square. Here is where Benjamin F. and others despaired were at the mercy of the print shop.
The printer simply "invented" spelling to accommodate the space. As example, when nearing the end of a line, where he saw that things weren't going to line up, and he would need to fill space, he simply could add an e to the end of some of the words, or change the spelling of terminations such as -nes to -neffe and -les to leffe, oor perhaps spell dance as, daunce, or many as manie.
Great but what if the words were simply too long? No problem. Simply drop the final e or what ever letter that could be removed without changing much the understanding of what was being printed. Grammar and spelling be damned. The printer also had available a group of letters that indicated contractions (much like we use acronyms today.) such as ye as an abbreviation for (the) and yt as an abbreviation for (that), plus others.
>From the book, Plain.. Introduction teaching how to pronounce...Welch, 1567 (Salusbury), this quote; "manne, worshippe, Godde'&c., the author advises a change to ^�mann, worshipp, Godd', &c. A marginal note adds ^�An observuation for wryting of English whych in pryntyng canot so well be kept'.
With the invention of the printing press a revolution in spelling occured. And it was Ben Johnson and Noah Webster that rose to the challenge of simplifying the way in which words would be spelt (or spelled(?)). As you might expect this revolution did not occur in one fell swoop but instead by fits and starts. Many of the suggestions that Webster made for the "proper" spelling of words he later dropped.(l) And while phonetics have reappeared and Franklin perhaps would be pleased, all is not well.
We owe Noah Webster high honors for recognizing, in advance of his time, the need for a unifying language that would knit this nation together. "A national language is a band of national union." (2) Alas, we backslide.
Last year and the year before, we had extensive debates about "eubonics." Let the uneducated masses speak just the way they like and we better get use to it. Arguments were presented that children should be permitted to use whatever language they might in the school system. Special teachers should be employed who understand eubonics and therefore could interact better with the kids. Never mind that they must eventually take roles in our society, communicate and contribute.
Now Bill Gates and Company hope to do for the language what Franklin couldn't. Franklin's audience was small (as alluded to in reference to the "bluestocking" crowd), whereas Gates has control of the keys to the minds and fingers of the masses. Will he embrace eubonics? Only time will tell.
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"The preceding "fragmentary rubbish" (to use the words of Doanne) is thrown upon the public with fome degree of confidence: ^� with confidence, merely becaufe it regards a country, the natural hiftory of which has hiterto been fo little attended to. I muft obferve, though perhaps the reader will not believe me, that I could render thefe pages more morthy of his notice. But I want leifure. It is this want of leifure that has prevented me from publishing a number of tracts, relative to the natural hisftory of North-America, which have long lain in my clofet, in a ftate nealy as imperfect as thefe very imperfect Fragments. Whether they will ever be publified, will depend, in fome meafure, upon the reception given to the prefent work.
I afk, I look for, no flattering reception. All I afk, all I require, is to be informed, by thofe who love and ftudy nature, that my prefent labours are not altogether ufelefs, and unentertaining. Until there fhall arife among us fome happy genius, qualified by that union of talents, of leifure, and enthufiaftic ardour, which is neceffary to form the character of a genuine naturalift, every collection of facts, every indivudual fact, that will tend to illuftrate the natural hiftory of the United-States, ought to be received with candour, and indulgence.
I have entitled thefe Fragments, "Part Firft," because if this is favorably received, I fhall publifh, in the courfe of the next year, two other parts, relative to other fubjects of the natural history of our State. I have made confiderable progrefs in an extenfive work on the Vegetables of Pennsylvania, and fome of the adjoining States. But this will appeaar in a feperate form: ^� I will not fay when. For who does not know, that "the promifes of authors are like the promifes of lovers?"
(The postscript of Benjamin Smith Barton to his work, Fragments of the Natural History of Pennsylvania. Part First. Philadelphia, 1799. It is considered by some that the work on the Vegetables of Pennsylvania was copied in much detail from the studies of John Bartram. joew) >From Selected Works of Eighteenth-Century Naturalist and Travellers (The series; Natural Sciences in America), Introduction by Keir B. Sterling. Arno Press, 1974.
What makes this piece interesting beyond the authors (Barton) sentiments, is that it serves as a point in time to bring into focus, the need for unified spelling and language of the American public. If you believe this to be a moot point, look to the book by Steve Pinker(3) who in his tower from which he can look down upon us unworthies, and proclaim that "the mind creates language", so all is right with the world if that creation follows the rules, never mind that the one who speaks this language is unable to communicate with the rest of the world outside his narrow environment. (Which goes for Pinker as well as the guttersnipe whose language he admires.)
(1) An Introduction to Bibliography by Ronald B. McKerrow, Oxford Press, 1967,
pp 11. Some paraphrasing to make it fit.
(2) Words and Ways of American English by Thomas Pyles, Random House, 1952,
pp96. Chapter on Noah Webster, Man and Symbol.
(3) The Language Instinct, Steven Pinker, William Morrow and Company, 1994.
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