only of the cruelty of Procrustes; and that is
of shortening such words as are too long for
their verse. In this way Cowley crushed
many words, and Milton did the same in
innumerable instances. Spencer corrupted
words for rhyme, and was imitated by
Dryden. All these causes together, rendered
the English language in such a ruinous
condition, that Walker burst out into the
following pathetic lamentation: "How hard
is the fate of an Englishman, who, to write
and speak his own language properly, must
not only understand French, Latin, and
Greek, but Hebrew, also!"

In this forlorn state of things, Walker
urged the reader of his Pronouncing
Dictionary, to adhere as closely as possible to
antiquity; but his favourite weapon against
the perverse independence, prevalent in
orthoëpical matters was the analogy of the
language.

Antiquity is argued to be in favour of
pronouncing Raisins, Reesins; because
Shakespeare made Falstaff tell Prince Henry, when
asked to give reasons for his conduct that
"if raisins were as plentiful as blackberries
he would not give him one upon compulsion."
Walker thinks this proves reesins
to have been the usual pronunciation in
Queen Elizabeth's time, therefore in departing
from that we destroy the wit of Shakespeare.
We are further informed that Sheridan was
the first to introduce our present pronunciation
of the word. It is not an unnatural
variation for an Irishman.

Another pun of Shakespeare's is considered
indisputable proof that Rome was Room, in
his time. The pronunciation of this word
gives our author no trouble. It was irrevocably
fixed; he traces it from Elizabeth to
Anne, and then to Pope, who rhymes it to
doom. Pope does not enjoy indemnity from
the accusation of torture ascribed to other
poets. Indeed, if some words were sounded
now, as they appear to have been spoken in the
Augustan age of literature, they would fall on
the ear discordantly. Rhymes continually
recur in the poems of Dryden, Pope, Gay,
and especially in the prologues and epilogues
to the plays of that time, which lead to the
belief ("Kings not being," according to Byron,
"more imperative than rhymes") that, for
instance, Are was commonly pronounced as
if it were written Air. These lines are from
Dryden's Eleonora:

Scarcely she knew that she was great or fair,
Or wise, beyond what other women are,
Or (which is better) knew, but never durst compare.

Again:

For such vicissitudes in Heaven there are,
In praise alternate, and alternate prayer.

Player is also made to rhyme, very
generally, to such sounds. In the prologue
to Steele's Funeral, or Grief à la Mode, we
are told:

All that now, or please, or fright the fair,
May be performed without a writer's care,
And is the skill of carpenter, not player.

We should be startled to hear a well-
educated person of to-day pronounce Oil, Ile;
yet rhymes of that kind abound. Pope, in
the first part of his essay on Satire, writes
thus:

Cunning evades, securely wrapt in wiles,
And force, strong-sinewed, rends the unequal toils.

True, that further on Pope makes  the same
word rhyme to Hoyle. But, in the epilogue
to the play we have mentioned above, and in
other poems too numerous to quote from, we
have similar discords:

He'd sing what hovering Fate attends our Isle,
And from base pleasure rouse from glorious toil.

Whatever may have been Walker's opinion
on such euphonies by these poets, he is not
uniformly submissive—being a very fickle person
—to Shakespeare. He recommends us in
such sentences as "sleeping within mine
orchard," to change the mine to my. He thinks
whenever "mine occurs we have a formality,
stateliness, and uncouthness of sound peculiarly
unpleasant to the ear." We must therefore
he, facetiously, says, "pronounce it
min; but, by thus mincing the matter (if
the pun will be pardoned), we mutilate the
word, and leave it more disagreeable to the
ear than before." Otherwise we must make
the alteration he suggests.

Antiquity again exerts its claim to be
remembered in the first syllable of Chamber,
which used universally to be pronounced to
rhyme with Psalm. It has been gradually
narrowing to the slender sound in came, and
thereby militates against the laws of
syllabication. Walker is not surprised at it,
however; for, if two such words as Cam and
Bridge could not resist the force of custom
which has for so many years reduced them
to Camebridge, why should we wonder that
Chamber and Cambrick, or Tynemouth and
Teignmouth, should yield to the same
unrelenting tyrant?

Walker declares that custom had also
made it so usual to say Sparrow-grass, that
Asparagus has an air of stiffness and pedantry.
This, of course, drives our author to despair;
and so does the pronunciation of Cucumber,
"which is too firmly fixed in its sound of
Cowcumber, to be altered." He has a gleam
of hope that Radish may retain its correct
sound. This word is commonly but corruptly
pronounced, as if written Reddish. "The
deviation is but small; nor do I think it so
incorrigible as that of its brother esculents,
the sparrow-grass and cowcumber just
mentioned." Not an inapt accompaniment to
these esculents is Sausage, which Sheridan
prefers pronouncing Sassidge; nor is he
unsupported in his peculiarity. Still Walker
considers it vulgar and not agreeable to best
usage.