By Madeleine KandoThe English language went through a fairly uneventful childhood. It was born a Celtic language, which is still spoken in Wales, Scotland and Ireland. But after the numerous invasions of the island, English could barely keep up with the deluge of foreign influences.
First came the Romans. They left scraps of Latin on the English plate, before they departed for good.
The Celtic language of the clan (clann) who lived in bogs (bogash), ate crumpets galore (ge leor) and smashed (mescaen) chairs (chaiere) to smithereens (smidrini) after they drank tons of whiskey, easily incorporated words like triumph, ovation, consul, dictator and circus.
But soon, the Anglo-Saxons came. Because the land of the Anglo Saxons often got flooded, they started to look for new places to farm and grow crops. Britain seemed like a nice dry place.
They brought their own language and the Celtic language started to cave in under the sheer abundance of new words. Celtic was pushed into the remote corners of this beautiful island and Old English took over. It was very different from modern English though. If you met the (anonymous) author of the poem ‘Beowulf’, you wouldn’t understand what he was reciting.
But that was not the end of it. After the Anglo-Saxons, came the Vikings and left more scraps behind. These Vikings were an angry and awesome band that often went berserk. They were chubby and knew how to crochet. But they were also ugly, ran amuck, drew skulls and knives, liked to die but loved cake! These words represent the character of a fighting, raiding culture.*
To top it all off, came the Norman invasion. They quickly overran England with their armies and their French language. English was force-fed French words, like stuffing a goose. Written English practically disappeared and spoken English was in danger of becoming extinct.
They brought their own language and the Celtic language started to cave in under the sheer abundance of new words. Celtic was pushed into the remote corners of this beautiful island and Old English took over. It was very different from modern English though. If you met the (anonymous) author of the poem ‘Beowulf’, you wouldn’t understand what he was reciting.
But that was not the end of it. After the Anglo-Saxons, came the Vikings and left more scraps behind. These Vikings were an angry and awesome band that often went berserk. They were chubby and knew how to crochet. But they were also ugly, ran amuck, drew skulls and knives, liked to die but loved cake! These words represent the character of a fighting, raiding culture.*
To top it all off, came the Norman invasion. They quickly overran England with their armies and their French language. English was force-fed French words, like stuffing a goose. Written English practically disappeared and spoken English was in danger of becoming extinct.
Only the servants still spoke ‘Anglo-Saxon’, and many English words suffered an existential crisis. Words that previously reigned over a large domain, like the word ‘apple’, which meant ‘fruit’, was demoted to mean just one type of fruit.
During this period, many words started to lead a double life. A kind of Jekyll and Hyde existence. After pigs were slaughtered, they turned into pork, killed deer turned into venison, cows into beef and sheep into mutton. An almighty King suddenly became omnipotent, and mindful people turned pensive. People didn’t beseech but enquired and knights were not lovesome but amorous.
English was stuffed to the max with foreign words. In order to cope with all this excess, the language came up with some ingenuous solutions. It stopped pronouncing letters that required the tongue to perform contortionist maneuvers. Why pronounce the ‘k’ in ‘knight’ if you could just say ‘nite’? Why pronounce the ‘b’ in ‘climb’ if you could say ‘clime’?**
During this period, many words started to lead a double life. A kind of Jekyll and Hyde existence. After pigs were slaughtered, they turned into pork, killed deer turned into venison, cows into beef and sheep into mutton. An almighty King suddenly became omnipotent, and mindful people turned pensive. People didn’t beseech but enquired and knights were not lovesome but amorous.
English was stuffed to the max with foreign words. In order to cope with all this excess, the language came up with some ingenuous solutions. It stopped pronouncing letters that required the tongue to perform contortionist maneuvers. Why pronounce the ‘k’ in ‘knight’ if you could just say ‘nite’? Why pronounce the ‘b’ in ‘climb’ if you could say ‘clime’?**
Since 60% of English words contain silent letters, silencing them was like a big spring cleaning.
There are 44 sounds (phonemes) in the English language and only 26 letters to represent them and silent letters expanded the English vocabulary without asking for anything in return. It allowed the English vocabulary to distinguish between words like ‘wright’, ‘right’, ‘write’ and ‘rite’.
Silent letters also have invisible powers by changing the letters next to them. The prime example is the silent ‘e’ at the end of words: hat-hate, mat-mate, rat-rate, etc.
In fact, without silent letters, English would become incomprehensible. Muscles would become musles, names would become nams, people would clim mountains and start to tak and wak.
In fact, without silent letters, English would become incomprehensible. Muscles would become musles, names would become nams, people would clim mountains and start to tak and wak.
Some silent letter combinations are absolute marvels of metamorphosis. Take the combination ‘ough’, which can be pronounced in numerous different ways:
A rough-coated, dough-faced, thoughtful ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough; after falling into a slough, he coughed and hiccoughed.
So you see, we really should give these poor voiceless fellows some credit.
On the other hand, some silent letters just makes writing harder without serving any useful purpose. They just get a free ride, like the stowaways on a ship. The sentence below is perfectly understandable:
“Wile in scool, I was agast wen for no ryme or reason, we had gastly gerkins for lunc. Onestly, my stomac hurt wile in Coir practice. I felt exausted for ours.”
Here is an incredibly funny video 'How English would sound if silent letters weren't silent'
The problem of course, is that spoken English is a marathon runner compared to written English. Many silent letters are fossils of days long gone. But English didn’t stop there. It introduced the concepts of acronyms, abbreviations and contractions. The words scuba, laser, radar and sonar have replaced what the words stand for.
English is the muttest of mutts in the world of languages. Is that the reason it became the Lingua Franca? A bit of French here, German there, with Scandinavian, Spanish and Greek sprinkled in between?
People complain about texting ruining young people’s writing ability, but texting is more an extension of speaking, abbreviating words and sentences.
I wouldn’t be surprised if in a couple of decades, we would have entered a new era called ‘post-modern English’. We will be speaking the way we text.
IMHO it would be NBD, because at the EOD, YOLO, IYKWIM.
(In my humble opinion, it would be no big deal, because at the end of the day, you only live once, if you know what I mean).
Sources:
*They also gave us the words for some of the days of the week Tyr (Tuesday), Odin (Wednesday), Thor (Thursday) and Frigg (Friday).
** The Dutch haven’t caught on to that trick yet. They still pronounce the k in knee and other words. Knippen (to nip), knekels (knuckes), khnot (knot), knielen (to kneel), etc. The guttural fricative ‘g’, typical of the Dutch language, in words like nacht (night), vecht (fight), licht (light) etc. had the decency of becoming silent in English. Before I moved to the States, I lived in Amsterdam. My address was: ‘Achtergracht negenentachtig’.
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