have, like pronouns, lost their primitive character, and are now
preserved only as adjectives. Let us examine a few of them by
endeavoring to ferret out their true meaning and application in the
expression of ideas. We will begin with the old articles, _a_, _an_, and
_the_, by testing the truth and propriety of the duty commonly assigned
to them in our grammars.
The standard grammar asserts that "an article is a word prefixed to
substantives, to point them out, and to show how far their signification
extends; as, "a garden, an eagle, the woman." Skepticism in grammar is
no crime, so we will not hesitate to call in question the correctness of
this "best of all grammars beyond all comparison." Let us consider the
very examples given. They were doubtless the best that could be found.
Does _a_ "point out" the garden, or "show how far its signification
extends?" It does neither of these things. It may name "_any_" garden,
and it certainly does not define whether it is a _great_ or a _small_
one. It simply determines that _one_ garden is the subject of remark.
All else is to be determined by the word _garden_.
We are told there are two articles, the one _in_definite, the other
definite--_a_ is the former, and _the_ the latter. I shall leave it with
you to reconcile the apparent contradiction of an _indefinite_ article
which "is used in a _vague sense, to point out the signification_ of
another word." But I challenge teachers to make their pupils comprehend
such a jargon, if they can do it themselves. But it is as good sense as
we find in many of the popular grammars of the day.
Again, Murray says "_a_ becomes _an_ before a vowel or silent _h_;" and
so say all his _simplifying_ satellites after him. Is such the fact? Is
he right? He is, I most unqualifiedly admit, with this little
correction, the addition of a single word--he is right _wrong_! Instead
of _a_ becoming _an_, the reverse is the fact. The word is derived
directly from the same word which still stands as our first numeral. It
was a short time since written _ane_, as any one may see by consulting
all old books. By and by it dropped the _e_, and afterwards, for the
sake of euphony, in certain cases, the _n_, so that now it stands a
single letter. You all have lived long enough to have noticed the
changes in the word. Formerly we said _an_ union, _an_ holiday, _an_
universalist, _an_ unitarian, &c., expressions which are now rarely
heard. We now say _a_ union, &c. This single instance proves that
arbitrary rules of grammar have little to do in the regulation of
language. Its barriers are of sand, soon removed. It will not be said
that this is an unimportant mistake, for, if an error, it is pernicious,
and if a grammarian knows enough to say that _a_ becomes _an_, he ought
to know that he tells a falsehood, and that _an_ becomes _a_ under
certain circumstances. Mr. Murray gives the following example to
illustrate the use of _a_. "Give me _a_ book; that is, _any_ book." How
can the learner understand such a rule? How will it apply? Let us try
it. "A man has _a_ wife;" that is, _any_ man has _any_ wife. I have a
hat; that is, _any_ hat. A farmer has a farm--_any_ farmer has _any_
farm. A merchant in Boston has a beautiful piece of broadcloth--_any_
merchant in Boston has any beautiful piece of broadcloth. A certain king
of Europe decreed a protestant to be burned--_any_ king of Europe
decreed _any_ protestant to be burned. How ridiculous are the rules we
have learned and taught to others, to enable them to "speak and write
with propriety." No wonder we never understood grammar, if so at
variance with truth and every day's experience. The rules of grammar as
usually taught can never be observed in practice. Hence it is called a
_dry study_. In every thing else we learn something that we can
understand, which will answer some good purpose in the affairs of life.
But this branch of science is among the things which have been tediously
learned to no purpose. No good account can be given of its advantages.
_The_, we are told, "is called the definite article, because it
ascertains what _particular_ thing or things are meant." A most
unfortunate definition, and quite as erroneous as the former. Let us try
it. _The_ stars shine, _the_ lion roars, _the_ camel is a beast of
burden, _the_ deer is good for food, _the_ wind blows, _the_ clouds
appear, _the_ Indians are abused. What is there in these examples, which
"ascertain what _particular_ thing or things are meant?" They are
expressions as _in_definite as we can imagine.
On the other hand, should I say _a_ star shines, _a_ lion roars, _an_
Indian is abused, _a_ wind blows, _a_ cloud appears, you would
understand me to allude very _definitely_ to _one_ "particular" object,
as separate and distinguished from others of its kind.
But what is the wonderful peculiarity in the meaning and use of these
two little words that makes them so unlike every thing else, as to
demand a separate "part of speech?" You may be surprised when I tell you
that there are other words in our language derived from the same source
and possessed of the same meaning; but such is the fact, as will soon
appear. Let us ask for the etymology of these important words. _A_
signifies _one_, never more, never less. In this respect it is always
_definite_. It is sometimes applied to a single thing, sometimes to a
whole class of things, to a [one] man, or to a [one] hundred men. It may
be traced thro other languages, ancient and modern, with little
modification in spelling; Greek _eis_, ein; Latin _unus_; Armoric
_unan_; Spanish and Italian _uno_; Portuguese _hum_; French _un_; German
_ein_; Danish _een_, _en_; Dutch _een_; Swedish _en_; Saxon, _an_,
_aen_, _one_--from which ours is directly derived--old English _ane_;
and more modernly _one_, _an_, _a_. In all languages it defines a thing
to be _one_, a united or congregated whole, and the word _one_ may
always be substituted without affecting the sense. From it is derived
our word _once_, which signifies _oned_, _united_, _joined_, as we shall
see when we come to speak of "contractions." In some languages _a_ is
styled an article, in others it is not. The Latin, for instance, has no
article, and the Greek has no _indefinite_. But all languages have words
which are like ours, pure adjectives, employed to specify certain
things. The argument drawn from the fact that some other languages have
_articles_, and therefore ours should, is fallacious. The Latin, which
was surpassed for beauty of style or power in deliverance by few, if any
others, never suffered from the lack of articles. Nor is there any
reason why we should honor two small adjectives with that high rank to
the exclusion of others quite as worthy.
_The_ is always used as a definitive word, tho it is the least definite
of the defining adjectives. In fact when we desire to "_ascertain
particularly_ what thing is meant," we select some more definite word.
"Give me _the_ books." Which? "Those with red covers, that in calf, and
this in Russia binding." _The_ nations are at peace. What nations?
_Those_ which were at war. You perceive how we employ words which are
more definite, that is, better understood, to "_point out_" the object
of conversation, especially when there is any doubt in the case. What
occasion, then, is there to give these [the?] words a separate "part of
speech," since in character they do not differ from others in the
language?
We will notice another frivolous distinction made by Mr. Murray, merely
to show how learned men may be mistaken, and the folly of trusting to
special rules in the general application of words. He says, "Thou art
_a_ man," is a very general and _harmless_ expression; but, thou art
_the_ man, (as Nathan said to David,) is an assertion capable of
striking terror and remorse into the heart." The distinction in meaning
here, on which he insists, attaches to the articles _a_ and _the_. It is
a sufficient refutation of this definition to make a counter statement.
Suppose we say, "Murray is _the_ best grammarian in the world; or, he is
_a_ fool, _a_ knave, and _a_ liar." Which, think you, would be
considered the most _harmless_ expression? Suppose it had been said to
Aaron Burr, thou art _a_ traitor, or to General William Hull, thou art
_a_ coward, would they regard the phrase as "_harmless!_" On the other
hand, suppose a beautiful, accomplished, and talented young lady, should
observe to one of her suitors, "I have received offers of marriage from
several gentlemen besides yourself, but thou art =the= man of my
choice;" would it, think you, _strike_ terror and remorse into his
heart? I should pity the young student of Murray whose feelings had
become so stoical from the false teaching of his author as to be filled
with "terror and remorse" under such favorable circumstances, while fair
prospects of future happiness were thus rapidly brightening before him.
I speak as to the wise, judge ye what I say.
The adjective _that_ has obtained a very extensive application in
language. However, it may seem to vary in its different positions, it
still retains its primitive meaning. It is comprised of _the_ and _it_,
thait, theat, thaet (Saxon,) thata (Gothic,) dat (Dutch.) It is the most
decided definitive in our language. It is by use applied to things in
the singular, or to a multitude of things regarded as a whole. By use,
it applies to a collection of ideas expressed in a sentence; as, it was
resolved, _that_. What? Then follows _that fact_ which was resolved.
"Provided _that_, in case he does" so and so. "It was agreed _that_,"
_that fact_ was agreed to which is about to be made known. I wish you to
understand, all thro these lectures, _that_ I shall honestly endeavor to
expose error and establish truth. Wish you to understand _what_? _that
fact_, afterwards stated, "I shall endeavor," &c. You can not mistake my
meaning: _that_ would be impossible. What would be impossible? Why, to
mistake my meaning.
You can not fail to observe the true character of this word called by
our grammarians "adjective pronoun," "relative pronoun," and
"conjunction." They did not think to look for its meaning. Had that
(duty) been done, it would have stood forth in its true character, an
important defining word.
The only difficulty in the explanation of this word, originates in the
fact, that it was formerly applied to the plural as well as singular
number. It is now applied to the singular only when referring directly
to an object; as, _that man_. And it never should be used otherwise. But
we often see phrases like this; "These are the men _that_ rebeled." It
should be, "these are the men _who_ rebeled." This difficulty can not be
overcome in existing grammars on any other ground. In modern writings,
such instances are rare. _This_ and _that_ are applied to the singular;
_these_ and _those_ to the plural.
* * * * *
=What= is a compound of two original words, and often retains the
meaning of both, when employed as a compound relative, "having in itself
both the antecedent and the relative," as our authors tell us. But when
it is dissected, it will readily enough be understood to be an
adjective, defining things under particular relations.
But I shall weary your patience, I fear, if I stay longer in this place
to examine the etymology of small words. I intended to have shown the
meaning and use of many words included in the list of conjunctions,
which are truly adjectives, such as _both_, _as_, _so_, _neither_,
_and_, etc.; but I let them pass for the present, to be resumed under
the head of contractions.
From the view we have given of this class of words, we are saved the
tediousness of studying the grammatical distinctions made in the books,
where no real distinctions exist. In character these words are like
adjectives; their meaning, like the meaning of all other words, is
peculiar to themselves. Let that be known, and there will be little
difficulty in classing them. We need not confuse the learner with
"adjective pronouns, possessive adjective pronouns, distributive
adjective pronouns, demonstrative adjective pronouns, _indefinite_
adjective pronouns," nor any other adjective pronouns, which can never
be understood nor explained. Children will be slow to apprehend the
propriety of a union of _adjectives_ and _pronouns_, when told that the
former is always used _with_ a noun, and never _for_ one; and the latter
always _for_ a noun, but never _with_ one; and yet, that there is such a
strange combination as a "_distributive or indefinite adjective
pronoun_,"--"confusion worse confounded."
In the french language, the gender of adjectives is varied so as to
agree with the nouns to which they belong. "Possessive pronouns," as
they are called, come under the same rule, which proves them to be in
character, and formation, adjectives; else the person using them must
change gender. The father says, _ma_ (feminine) _fille_, my daughter;
and the mother, _mon_ (masculine) _fils_, my son; the same as they would
say, _bon pere_, good father; _bonne mere_, good mother; or, in Latin,
_bonus pater_, or _bona mater_; or, in Spanish, _bueno padre_, _buena
madre_. In the two last languages, as well as all others, where the
adjectives vary the termination so as to agree with the noun, the same
fact may be observed in reference to their "pronouns." If it is a fact
that these words are _pronouns_, that is, stand for other _nouns_, then
the father is _feminine_, and the mother is _masculine_; and whoever
uses them in reference to the opposite sex must change gender to do so.
* * * * *
Describing adjectives admit of variation to express different degrees of
comparison. The regular degrees have been reckoned three; positive,
comparative, and superlative. These are usually marked by changing the
termination. The _positive_ is determined by a comparison with other
things; as, a great house, a small book, compared with others of their
kind. This is truly a comparative degree. The _comparative_ adds _er_;
as, a great_er_ house, a small_er_ book. The _superlative_, _est_; as,
the great_est_ house, the small_est_ book.
Several adjectives express a comparison less than the positive, others
increase or diminish the regular degrees; as, whit_ish_ white, _very_
white, _pure_ white; whit_er_, _considerable_ whiter, _much_ whiter;
whit_est_, the _very_ whitest, _much_ the whitest _beyond all
comparison_, so that there can be none _whiter_, nor _so white_.
We make an aukward use of the words _great_ and _good_, in the
comparison of things; as, a _good deal_, or _great deal_ whiter; a
_good_ many men, or a _great_ many men. As we never hear of a _small_
deal, or a _bad_ deal whiter, nor of a _bad many_, nor _little many_, it
would be well to avoid such phrases.
The words which are added to other adjectives, to increase or diminish
the comparison, or assist in their definition, may properly be called
_secondary adjectives_, for such is their character. They do not refer
to the thing to be _defined_ or _described_, but to the adjective which
is affected, in some way, by them. They are easily distinguished from
the rest by noticing this fact. Take for example: "A _very dark red_ raw
silk lady's dress handkerchief." The resolution of this sentence would
stand thus:
_A_ ( ) handkerchief.
A ( ) _red_ ( ) handkerchief.
A ( ) _dark_ red ( ) handkerchief.
A _very_ dark red ( ) handkerchief.
A very dark red ( ) _silk_ ( ) handkerchief.
A very dark red _raw_ silk ( ) handkerchief.
A very dark red raw silk ( ) _dress_ handkerchief.
A very dark red raw silk _lady's_ dress handkerchief.
We might also observe that _hand_ is an adjective, compounded by use
with _kerchief_. It is derived from the french word _couvrir_, to cover,
and _chef_, the head. It means a head dress, a cloth to cover, a neck
cloth, a napkin. By habit we apply it to a single article, and speak of
_neck_ handkerchief.
The nice shade of meaning, and the appropriate use of adjectives, is
more distinctly marked in distinguishing colors than in any thing else,
for the simple reason, that there is nothing in nature so closely
observed. For instance, take the word _green_, derived from _grain_,
because it is grain color, or the color of the fair carpet of nature in
spring and summer. But this hue changes from the _deep grass green_, to
the light olive, and words are chosen to express the thousand varying
tints produced by as many different objects. In the adaptation of
language to the expression of ideas, we do not separate these shades of
color from the things in which such colors are supposed to reside. Hence
we talk of _grass_, _pea_, _olive_, _leek_, _verdigris_, _emerald_,
_sea_, and _bottle_ green; also, of _light_, _dark_, _medium_; _very_
light, or dark grass, pea, olive, or _invisible_ green.
_Red_, as a word, means _rayed_. It describes the appearance or
substance produced when _rayed_, reddened, or radiated by the morning
beams of the sun, or any other _radiating_ cause.
_Wh_ is used for _qu_, in white, which means _quite_, _quited_,
_quitted_, _cleared_, _cleansed_ of all _color_, _spot_, or _stain_.
_Blue_ is another spelling for _blew_. Applied to color, it describes
something in appearance to the sky, when the clouds and mists are
_blown_ away, and the clear _blue ether_ appears.
You will be pleased with the following extract from an eloquent writer
of the last century,[9] who, tho somewhat extravagant in some of his
speculations, was, nevertheless, a close observer of nature, which he
studied as it is, without the aid of human theories. The beauty of the
style, and the correctness of the sentiment, will be a sufficient
apology for its length.
"We shall employ a method, not quite so learned, to convey an idea of
the generation of colors, and the decomposition of the solar ray.
Instead of examining them in a prism of glass, we shall consider them in
the heavens, and there we shall behold the five primordial colours
_unfold themselves_ in the order which we have indicated.
"In a fine summer's night, when the sky is loaded only with some light
vapours, sufficient to stop and to refract the rays of the sun, walk out
into an open plain, where the first fires of Aurora may be perceptible.
You will first observe the horizon _whiten_ at the spot where she is to
make her appearance; and this radiance, from its colour, has procured
for it, in the French language, the name of _aube_, (the dawn,) from the
Latin word _alba_, white. This whiteness insensibly ascends in the
heavens, _assuming_ a tint of yellow some degrees above the horizon; the
yellow as it rises passes into orange; and this shade of orange rises
upward into the lively vermilion, which extends as far as the zenith.
From that point you will perceive in the heavens behind you the violet
succeeding the vermilion, then the azure, after it the deep blue or
indigo colour, and, last of all, the black, quite to the westward.
"Though this display of colours presents a multitude of intermediate
shades, which rapidly succeed each other, yet at the moment the sun is
going to exhibit his disk, the dazzling white is visible in the horizon,
the pure yellow at an elevation of forty-five degrees; the fire color in
the zenith; the pure blue forty-five degrees under it, toward the west;
and in the very west the dark veil of night still lingering on the
horizon. I think I have remarked this progression between the tropics,
where there is scarcely any horizontal refraction to make the light
prematurely encroach on the darkness, as in our climates.
"Sometimes the trade-winds, from the north-east or south-east, blow
there, card the clouds through each other, then sweep them to the west,
crossing and recrossing them over one another, like the osiers
interwoven in a transparent basket. They throw over the sides of this
chequered work the clouds which are not employed in the contexture, roll
them up into enormous masses, as white as snow, draw them out along
their extremities in the form of a crupper, and pile them upon each
other, moulding them into the shape of mountains, caverns, and rocks;
afterwards, as evening approaches, they grow somewhat calm, as if afraid
of deranging their own workmanship. When the sun sets behind this
magnificent netting, a multitude of luminous rays are transmitted
through the interstices, which produce such an effect, that the two
sides of the lozenge illuminated by them have the appearance of being
girt with gold, and the other two in the shade seem tinged with _ruddy_
orange. Four or five divergent streams of light, emanated from the
setting sun up to the zenith, _clothe_ with fringes of gold the
undeterminate summits of this celestial barrier, and strike with the
reflexes of their fires the pyramids of the collateral aerial mountains,
which then appear to consist of _silver_ and _vermilion_. At this moment
of the evening are perceptible, amidst their redoubled ridges, a
multitude of valleys extending into infinity, and distinguishing
themselves at their opening by some shade of flesh or of rose colour.
"These celestial valleys present in their different contours inimitable
tints of white, melting away into white, or shades lengthening
themselves out without mixing over other shades. You see, here and
there, issuing from the cavernous sides of those mountains, tides of
_light_ precipitating themselves, in ingots of gold and silver, over
rocks of coral. Here it is a gloomy rock, pierced through and through,
disclosing, beyond the aperture, the pure azure of the firmament; there
it is an extensive strand, covered with sands of gold, stretching over
the rich ground of heaven; _poppy-coloured_, _scarlet_, and _green_ as
the emerald.
"The reverberation of those western colours diffuses itself over the
sea, whose azure billows it _glazes_ with saffron and purple. The
mariners, leaning over the gunwale of the ship, admire in silence those
aerial landscapes. Sometimes this sublime spectacle presents itself to
them at the hour of prayer, and seems to invite them to lift up their
hearts with their voices to the heavens. It changes every instant into
forms as variable as the shades, presenting celestial colors and forms
which no pencil can pretend to imitate, and no language can describe.
"Travellers who have, at various seasons, ascended to the summits of the
highest mountains on the globe, never could perceive, in the clouds
below them, any thing but a gray and lead-colored surface, similar to
that of a lake. The sun, notwithstanding, illuminated them with his
whole light; and his rays might there combine all the laws of refraction
to which our systems of physics have subjected them. Hence not a single
shade of color is employed in vain, through the universe; those
celestial decorations being made for the level of the earth, their
magnificent point of view taken from the habitation of man.
"These admirable concerts of lights and forms, manifest only in the
lower region of the clouds the least illuminated by the sun, are
produced by laws with which I am totally unacquainted. But the whole are
reducible to five colors: yellow, a generation from white; red, a deeper
shade of yellow; blue, a strong tint of red; and black, the extreme tint
of blue. This progression cannot be doubted, on observing in the morning
the expansion of the light in the heavens. You there see those five
colors, with their intermediate shades, generating each other nearly in
this order: white, sulphur yellow, lemon yellow, yolk of egg yellow,
orange, aurora color, poppy red, full red, carmine red, purple, violet,
azure, indigo, and black. Each color seems to be only a strong tint of
that which precedes it, and a faint tint of that which follows; thus the
whole together appear to be only modulations of a progression, of which
white is the first term, and black the last.