There is a class of small words which from the frequency of their use 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 indefinite, 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 indefinite 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.