How American Was Franklin’s English?

Alright, let’s dive into this, shall we? Gary D. German’s *Benjamin Franklin: Orthoepist and Phonetician* finally being released in open access is, frankly, a cause for celebration. It’s a monumental work, and the fact that it's freely available means a wider audience can grapple with the fascinating, and surprisingly contentious, world of 18th-century American linguistics. We’ve always been drawn to the etymological rabbit holes, the linguistic quirks that reveal so much about history and identity—and this book is practically a warren of them. It's refreshing to see such meticulous scholarship applied to something that often gets relegated to a footnote in broader historical narratives. It reminds us of the constant, often unseen, evolution of language, and how deeply intertwined it is with social and political shifts. Speaking of shifts, Ben Yagoda’s recent piece on the rise of "alongside" Why “Alongside”? highlights the ongoing dynamism of language – a quality Franklin himself would have appreciated, given his own reformist impulses. And, it’s not entirely unrelated to Joel’s exploration of 1905 as a linguistic renaissance 1905: The Linguistic Renaissance – both point to periods of noticeable linguistic change and adaptation.

German’s work isn’t just about documenting how Americans spoke differently; it's about understanding *why*. Franklin, a man obsessed with efficiency and clarity, saw the inconsistencies of English orthography as a barrier to literacy and progress. His proposed reforms, though ultimately unsuccessful, were a radical attempt to impose order on a system that felt increasingly chaotic. It’s easy to dismiss him as a pedant, but that would be to miss the larger point: Franklin was deeply invested in the democratization of knowledge, and he believed that a more accessible language was a crucial tool for achieving it. The sheer depth of detail in Part III, concerning the historical phonology of Colonial New England English, speaks to the dedication of German's research. This isn't about arguing for a "better" English; it’s about understanding the processes of linguistic divergence, the way regional dialects emerge and solidify, and the social forces that shape those developments. It's a granular view of language change, reminding us that even seemingly small shifts in pronunciation can have profound cultural implications.

The framing of Franklin’s efforts as a response to “London Norms” is particularly compelling. It underscores the colonial relationship, not just in terms of politics and trade, but also in terms of linguistic authority. American English wasn’t simply a corruption of British English; it was a distinct variety, evolving along its own trajectory, shaped by its own unique social and geographical circumstances. And, as Colin Burrow’s review of *Obstupefacting Excrescences* demonstrates Obstupefacting Excrescences, the history of language is often filled with these delightfully obscure, and occasionally unsettling, terms that illuminate the cultural landscape of their time. Franklin’s engagement with these nuances, his attempts to categorize and codify them, offer a fascinating window into the intellectual currents of the 18th century. It’s a reminder that language isn't just about communication; it's about power, prestige, and the ongoing struggle to define who we are.

Ultimately, German’s work reinforces a crucial point: language is never static. It's a living, breathing entity, constantly evolving, adapting, and reflecting the changes in the world around it. Franklin's failed reforms, viewed through the lens of modern linguistics, become not a testament to his hubris, but a valuable case study in the complexities of language change. So, the question lingering in the air is this: as we grapple with the rapid linguistic shifts spurred by the internet and global communication, what will future scholars make of *our* orthographic quirks and phonetic tendencies? Will they see a chaotic mess, or the nascent stages of a new linguistic order—a spooty one, perhaps?