A participle is a part of speech derived from a verb, agreeing with its primitive in denoting action, being, or suffering, but differing from it in this, that the participle implies no affirmation[57].

There are two participles, the present, ending in ing, as reading[58]; and the perfect or past, generally ending in d or ed, as heard, loved.

The present participle denotes the relatively present, or the contemporary continuation of an action, or state of being. If we say, “James was building the house,” the participle expresses the continuation of the action, and the verb may be considered as active. If we say, “the house was building, when the wall fell,” the participle, the same as in the preceding example, denotes here the continuation of a state of suffering, or being acted upon; and the verb may be considered as passive. This participle, therefore, denoting either action or passion, cannot with propriety be considered, as it has been by some grammarians, as entirely an active participle. Its distinctive and real character is, that in point of time it denotes the relatively present, and may therefore be called the present participle; and, in regard to action or passion, it denotes their continuance or incompletion, and may therefore be termed imperfect. In respect to time, therefore, it is present; in respect to the action or state of being, it is continued or imperfect. But whether it express action or passion can be ascertained only by inquiring whether the subject be acting or suffering; and this is a question which judgment only can decide, the participle itself not determining the point. If we say, “the prisoner was burning,” our knowledge of the subject only can enable us to determine whether the prisoner was active or passive; whether he was employing fire to consume, or was himself consuming by fire.

The other participle, ending generally in ed or d, has been called by some grammarians the passive participle, in contradistinction to the one which we have now been considering, and which they have termed the active participle. “This participle has been so called,” says the author of the British Grammar, “because, joined with the verb to be, it forms the passive voice.” If the reason here assigned justify its denomination as a passive participle, there exists the same reason for calling it an active participle; for, with the verb to have, it forms some of the compound tenses of the active voice. The truth is, that, as those grammarians have erred who consider the participle in ing as an active participle, when it in fact denotes either action or passion, so those, on the other hand, commit a similar mistake, who regard the participle in ed as purely passive. A little attention will suffice to show that it belongs to neither the one voice nor the other peculiarly: and that it denotes merely completion or perfection, in contradistinction to the other participle, which expresses imperfection or continuation. If it be true, indeed, that the participle in ing does not belong to the active voice only, but expresses merely the continuation of any act, passion, or state of being, analogy would incline us to infer, that the participle in ed, which denotes the completion of an act or state of being, cannot belong exclusively to the passive voice; and I conceive that, on inquiry, we shall find this to be the case. If I say, “he had concealed a poniard under his coat,” the participle here would be considered as active. If I say, “he had a poniard concealed under his clothes,” the participle would be regarded as passive. Does not this prove that this participle is ambiguous, that it properly belongs to neither voice, and that the context only, or the arrangement, can determine, whether it denote the perfection of an action, or the completion of a passion or state of being? When I say, “Lucretia stabbed herself with a dagger, which she had concealed under her clothes,” it is impossible to ascertain whether the participle be active or passive, that is, whether the verb had be here merely an auxiliary verb, or be synonymous with the verb to possess. If the former be intended, the syntactical collocation is, “she had concealed (which) dagger under her clothes:” if the latter, the grammatical order is, “she had which dagger concealed:” and it requires but little discernment to perceive that “she had concealed a dagger,” and “had a dagger concealed,” are expressions by no means precisely equivalent.

I need not here remind the classical scholar, that the Latins had two distinct forms of expression to mark this diversity; the one, quem abdiderat, and the other quem abditum habebat. The latter is the phraseology of Livy, describing the suicide of Lucretia. His words, if translated, “which she had concealed,” become ambiguous; for this is equally a translation of quem abdiderat. It is observable also, that the phrase quem abdiderat would not imply, that the dagger was in the possession of Lucretia at the time.

The participle in ed, therefore, I consider to be perfectly analogous to the participle in ing, and used like it in either an active or passive sense; belonging, therefore, neither to the one voice nor the other exclusively, but denoting the completion of an action or state of being, while the participle in ing denotes its continuation.

In exhibiting a paradigm of the conjugation of our verbs, many grammarians have implicitly and servilely copied the Latin grammar, transferring into our language the names both of tenses and moods which have formally no existence in English. “I may burn,” is denominated, by the author of the British Grammar, the present subjunctive; “I might burn,” the imperfect subjunctive; “I may have burned,” the preterperfect; and so on. This is directly repugnant to the simplicity of our language, and is in truth as absurd as it would be to call “we two love,” the dual number of the present tense; or “he shall soon be buried,” a paulo post future. Were this principle carried its full length, we should have all the tenses, moods, and numbers, which are to be found in Greek or Latin. It appears to me, that nothing but prejudice or affectation could have prompted our English grammarians to desert the simple structure of their own language, and wantonly to perplex it with technical terms, for things not existing in the language itself.

I purpose, therefore, in exhibiting the conjugation of the English verb, to give the simple tenses, as the only ones belonging to our language; and then show how, by the aid of other words combined with these, we contrive to express the requisite modifications, and various accessary ideas.

This tense is by some grammarians called the present indefinite; while by others it is considered as either definite or indefinite. When it expresses an action now present, it is termed the present definite, as,

“I write this after a severe illness.”—Pope’s Letters.

“Saul, why persecutest thou me?”—Bible.

If the proposition expressed be general, or true at all times, this tense is then termed the present indefinite; as, “The wicked flee, when no man pursueth.”

This tense is indefinite, no particular past time being implied.

These are the only two tenses in our language formed by varying the termination; the only two tenses, therefore, which properly belong to it.

This tense denotes a present action proceeding. In regard to time, it has been termed definite; and, in respect to action, it differs from the other present in this, that the former has no reference either to the perfection or imperfection of the action; whereas this denotes that the action is continued and imperfect.

This form of the verb is emphatic, and generally implies doubt or contradiction on the part of the person addressed, to remove which the assertion is enforced by the auxiliary verb. In respect to time and action, it is precisely the same with I write.

“You cannot dread an honourable death.”

“I do dread it.”

“Excellent wretch! perdition seize my soul, but I do love thee.”

Cancel the auxiliary verb, and the expression becomes feeble and spiritless. This is one of those phraseologies, which it would be impossible to render in a transpositive language. Di me perdant, quin te amem, is an expression comparatively exanimate and insipid.

as, “This to me in dreadful secrecy impart they did.” The emphasis here, however, may partly arise from the inverted collocation. The following example is therefore more apposite. “I have been told that you have slighted me, and said, I feared to face my enemy. You surely did not wrong me thus?” “I did say so.”

This tense is indefinite, in respect both to the time, and the completion of the action.

This tense denotes that an action was proceeding, or going on, at a time past either specified or implied, as “I was writing when you called.”

This tense expresses time as past, and the action as perfect. It is compounded of the present tense of the verb denoting possession and the perfect participle. It signifies a perfect action either newly finished, or in a time of which there is some part to elapse, or an action whose consequences extend to the present. In short, it clearly refers to present time. This, indeed, the composition of the tense manifestly evinces. Thus, “I have written a letter,” means “I possess at present the finished action of writing a letter.” This phraseology, I acknowledge, seems uncouth and inelegant; but, how awkward soever it may appear, the tense is unquestionably thus resolvable.

1st. It expresses an action newly finished, as, “I understand that a messenger has arrived from Paris,” that is, “newly,” or “just now,” arrived.

2dly. An action done in a space of time, part of which is yet to elapse; as, “It has rained all this week,” “We have seen strange things this century.”

3dly. An action perfected some time ago, but whose consequences extend to the present time; as, “I have wasted my time, and now suffer for my folly.”

This tense has been termed, by some grammarians, the perfect indefinite, and “I wrote,” the perfect definite. The argument which they offer for this denomination is, that the latter admits a definitive, to specify the precise time, and the former rejects it. Those who reason in this manner seem to me not only chargeable with a perversion of terms, but also to disprove their own theory. For what is meant by a definite term? Not surely that which admits or requires a definitive to give it precision; but that which of itself is already definite. If, therefore, “I wrote,” not only admits, but even requires, the subjunction of a defining term or clause to render the time definite and precise, it cannot surely be itself a definite tense. Besides, they appear to me to reason in this case inconsistently with their own principles. For they call I am writing a definite tense; and why? but because it defines the action to be imperfect, or the time to be relatively present[59]. But if they reason here as they do in respect to the preterite tenses, they ought to call this an indefinite tense, because it admits not a definitive clause. They must, therefore, either acknowledge that I have written is a definite tense, and I wrote, indefinite; or they must, contrary to their own principles, call I am writing indefinite.

Dr. Arthur Browne, in an Essay on the Greek Tenses[60], contends, that I wrote is the perfect definite, and I have written the perfect indefinite. “I wrote,” says he, “is not intelligible without referring to some precise point of time, e.g. when I was in France. Why, then, does Dr. Beattie say I wrote is indefinite, because it refers to no particular past time? No: it is indefinite because the verb in that tense does not define whether the action be complete or not complete. And why does he say, I have written is definite in respect of time? for it refers to no particular time at which the event happened. Put this example: A says to B, ‘I wish you would write to that man.’ ‘I have written to him,’ the sense is complete; the expression is not supposed to refer to any particular time, and does not necessarily elicit any further inquiry. But if B answers, ‘I wrote to him,’ he is of course supposed to have in his mind a reference to some particular time, and it naturally calls on A to ask when? It is not clear, then, that I wrote refers to some particular time, and cannot have been called indefinite, as Dr. Beattie supposes, from its not doing so?”

Dr. Browne’s argument is chargeable with inconsistency. He says, that because I have written elicits no farther inquiry, and renders the sense complete, it denotes no determinate time; and that I wrote refers to a particular time, prompting to farther inquiry. This at least I take to be the scope of his reasoning; for if it be not from their occasioning, or not occasioning, farther interrogation, that he deduces his conclusion concerning the nature of these tenses, his argument seems nothing but pure assertion. Now, so far from calling that a definite tense, which necessarily requires, as he himself states, a defining clause to specify the point of time, I should call it an indefinite tense. He admits that I wrote refers to time past in general, and that it requires some farther specification to render the time known, as I wrote yesterday. In this case, surely it is not the term wrote, but yesterday, which defines the precise time; the tense itself expressing nothing but past time in general.

For the same reason, if, as he acknowledges, I have written elicits no farther inquiry, it is an argument that the sense is complete, and the time sufficiently understood by the hearer. Besides, is it not somewhat paradoxical to say that a tense which renders farther explanation unnecessary, and the sense complete, thus satisfying the hearer, is indefinite? and that a tense which does not satisfy the hearer, but renders farther inquiry necessary, is definite? This, to say the least, is somewhat extraordinary.

The observations of Lord Monboddo on this subject are not inapplicable to the point in question: I shall therefore transcribe them.

“There are actions,” says he, “which end in energy, and produce no work which remains after them. What shall we say of such actions? cannot we say, I have danced a dance, taken a walk, &c., and how can such actions be said in any sense to be present? My answer is, that the consequences of such actions, respecting the speaker, or some other person or thing, are present, and what these consequences are, appears from the tenor of the discourse. ‘I have taken a walk, and am much better for it.’ ‘I have danced a dance, and am inclined to dance no more.’”

The order of nature being maintained, as Mr. Harris observes, by a succession of contrarieties, the termination of one state of things naturally implies the commencement of its contrary. Hence this tense has been employed to denote an attribute the contrary to that which is expressed by the verb. Thus the Latins used vixit, “he hath lived,” to denote “he is dead;” fuit Ilium, “Troy has been,” to signify Troy is no more. A similar phraseology obtains in English; thus, “I have been young,” is equivalent to “now I am old.”

This tense, in respect to time, is the same as the last, but implies the imperfection of the action, and denotes its progression.

This tense denotes that an action was perfected before another action was done.

This tense, in respect to time, is more than past, and in respect to action is imperfect. It denotes that an action was going on, or in a state of progression, before another action took place, or before it was perfected; as, “I had been writing before you arrived.”

These compound tenses denote the futurity of an action indefinitely, without any reference to its completion. The meaning of the several persons has been already explained.

This tense agrees with the former in respect to time, but differs from it in this, that the former has no reference to the completion of the action, while the latter expresses its imperfection and progression.

This tense denotes that a future action will be perfected, before the commencement or completion of another action, or before a certain future time; as, “Before you can have an answer, I shall have written a second letter.” “By the time he shall have arrived, you will have conquered every difficulty.” In short, it denotes, that at some future time an action will be perfected.

As it has been a subject of great controversy among grammarians, what tenses should be called definite and what indefinite, I shall now offer a few observations which may serve to illustrate the point in question.

Duration, like space, is continuous and uninterrupted. It is divisible in idea only. It is past or future, merely in respect to some intermediate point, which the mind fixes as the limit between the one and the other. Present time, in truth, does not exist, any more than a mathematical line can have breadth, or a mathematical point be composed of parts. This position has, indeed, been controverted by Dr. Beattie; but, in my judgment, without the shadow of philosophical argument[61]. Harris, Reid, and several others, have incontrovertibly proved it. But though present time, philosophically speaking, has no existence, we find it convenient to assume a certain portion of the past and the future, as intermediate spaces between these extremes, and to consider these spaces as present; for example, the present day, the present week, the present year, the present century, though part of these several periods be past, and part to come. We speak of them, however, as present, as “this month,” “this year,” “this day.” Time being thus in its nature continuous, and past and future being merely relative terms, some, portion or point of time being conceived where the one begins and the other ends, it is obvious that all tenses indicative of any of these two general divisions must denote relative time, that is, time past or future, in relation to some conceived or assumed space; thus it may be past or future, in respect to the present hour, the present day, the present week.

Again. The term indefinite is applicable either to time or to action. It may, therefore, be the predicate of a tense denoting either that the precise time is left undetermined, or that the action specified is not signified, as either complete or imperfect. Hence the controversy has been partly verbal. Hence, also, the contending parties have seemed to differ, while, in fact, they were agreed; and, on the contrary, have seemed to accord, while their opinions were, in truth, mutually repugnant.

Dr. Browne confines the term to action only, and pleads the authority of Mr. Harris in his favour. It is true, indeed, that Mr. Harris calls those tenses definite which denote the beginning, the middle, or the perfection of an action: but it is obvious, from the most superficial examination of his theory, that he denominates the tenses definite or indefinite, not in respect to action, but to time. When, in the passage from Milton,

he considers “walk” as indefinite, is it in regard to action? No. “It is,” says he, “because they were walking, not at that instant only, but indefinitely, at any instant whatever.” And when he terms, Thou shalt not kill, an indefinite tense, is it because it has no reference to the completion or the imperfection of the action? No; it is “because,” says he, “this means no particular future time, but is extended indefinitely to every part of time.” Besides, if Mr. Harris’s and Dr. Browne’s ideas coincide, how comes it that the one calls that a definite tense, which the other terms indefinite? This does not look like accordance in sentiment, or in the application of terms. Yet the tenses in such examples as these,

“The wicked flee when no man pursueth;”

“Ad pœnitendum properat, cito qui judicat;”

“God is good;” “Two and two are four;”

which Harris and Beattie properly call indefinite, Browne terms definite. Nay, he denominates them thus for the very reason for which the others call them indefinite, namely, because the sentiments are always true, and the time of their existence never perfectly past. So far in respect to Mr. Harris’s authority in favour of Browne, when he confines the terms definite and indefinite to action only[62].

But I forbear to prosecute this controversy further, or to point out the inaccuracies with which I apprehend many writers on this subject are chargeable. I therefore proceed to review and illustrate the doctrine of the tenses which I have already offered.

The present time being, as I have already observed, an assumed space, and of no definite extent, as it may be either the present minute, the present hour, the present month, the present year, all of which consist of parts, it follows that, as the present time is itself indefinite, having no real existence, but being an arbitrary conception of the mind, the tense significant of that time must be also indefinite. This, I conceive, must be sufficiently evident. Hence the present tense not only admits, but frequently requires, the definitive now to limit the interval between past and future, or to note the precise point of time.

Time past and time future are conceived as infinitely more extended than the present. The tenses, therefore, significant of these two grand divisions of time, are also necessarily indefinite.

Again, an action may be expressed, either as finished, or as proceeding; or it may be the subject of affirmation, without any reference to either of these states. In English, to denote the continuation of the action we employ the present or imperfect participle; and to denote its completion we use the preterite or perfect participle. When neither is implied, the tenses significant of the three divisions of time, without any regard to the action as complete or imperfect, are uniformly employed.

The tenses, therefore, indefinite as to time and action are these:

The six following compound tenses are equally indefinite in point of time; but they denote either the completion or the progress of the action, and in this respect are definite.

I write I am writing I have written.

The first is indefinite as to time and action. If I say, “I write,” it is impossible to ascertain by the mere expression, whether be signified, “I write now,” “I write daily,” or, “I am a writer in general.” It is the concomitant circumstances only, either expressed or understood, which can determine what part of the present time is implied. When Pope introduces a letter to Lady M. W. Montague with these words, “I write this after a severe illness,” is it the tense which marks the time, or is it not the date of the letter, with which the writing is understood to be contemporary? If you and I should see a person writing, and either of us should say, “He writes,” the proposition would be particular, and time present with the speaker’s observation would be understood: but, is it not evident, that it is not the tense which defines the present now, but the obvious circumstances of the person’s writing at the time? And when the king, in Hamlet, says,

what renders the two first propositions particular, or confines the tenses to the time then present, while the last proposition is universally true, and the tense indefinite? Nothing, I conceive, but the circumstances of the speaker. Nay, does it not frequently happen, that we must subjoin the word now to this tense, in order to define the point of time? Did the tense of itself note the precise time, this definitive would in no case be necessary. If I say, “Apples are ripe,” the proposition, considered independently on adventitious circumstances, is general and indefinite. The time may be defined by adding a specific clause, as, “in the month of October;” or, if nothing be subjoined, the ellipsis is supplied either by the previous conversation, or in some other way, and the hearer understands, “are now ripe.” This tense, therefore, I consider as indefinite in point of time. That it is indefinite in regard to action, there can be no question.

I am writing.

This tense also is indefinite in respect to time. It derives its character as a tense from the verb am, which implies affirmation with time, either now, generally, or always. Mr. Harris calls it the present definite, as I have already remarked; and in regard to action it is clearly definite. It is this, and this only, which distinguishes it from the other present, I write, the latter having no reference to the perfection or imperfection of the action, while I am writing denotes its continuation. Hence it is, that the latter is employed to express propositions generally or universally true, the idea of perfection or incompletion being, in such cases, excluded. Thus we say, The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but not, as I conceive, with equal propriety, The wicked are fleeing when no man is pursuing.

I have written.

As I am writing denotes the present continuation of an action, so I have written expresses an action completed in a time supposed to be continued to the present, or an action whose consequences extend to the present time. As a tense, it derives its character from the tense I have, significant of present time; while the perfection of the action is denoted by the perfect participle. But as I have shown that every tense significant of present time must be, in regard to time, indefinite, so this tense, compounded of the present tense I have, must, in this respect, be therefore indefinite.

Lowth, Priestley, Beattie, Harris, and several others, have assigned it the name of the preterite definite, and I wrote they have termed the preterite indefinite. Browne, and one or two others, have reversed this denomination. Now, that I wrote does not of itself define what part of past time is specified, appears to me very evident. This is, indeed, admitted by those who contend for the definite nature of this tense. Why, then, do they call it a definite tense? Because, they say, it admits a definitive term, by the aid of which it expresses the precise time, as, “I wrote yesterday,” “a week ago,” “last month;” whereas we cannot say, “I have written yesterday.” Now, as I remarked before, this appears to me a perversion of language; for we do not denominate that term definite, which requires a definitive to render it precise. Why have the terms the, this, that, been called definitives? Is it because they admit a defining term? or is it not because they limit or define the import of general terms? I concur, therefore, with the author of the article “Aorist,” in the “Nouvelle Encyclopédie,” when he ridicules a M. Demandre for giving the character of definite to a tense which marks past time indefinitely. This certainly is a perversion of terms.

“When we make use of the auxiliary verb,” says Dr. Priestley, “we have no idea of any certain portion of time intervening between the time of action and the time of speaking of it; the time of action being some period that extends to the present, as, ‘I have this year, this morning, written,’ spoken in the same year, the same morning; whereas, speaking of an action done in a period past, we use the preterite tense and say, ‘I wrote,’ intimating that a certain portion of time is past, between the time of action and the time of speaking of it.” To the same purpose nearly are the words of the author of the article “Grammar,” in the “Encyclopedia Britannica.” “I have written,” says he, “is always joined with a portion of time which includes the present now or instant; for otherwise it could not signify, as it always does, the present possession of the finishing of an action. But the aorist, which signifies no such possession, is as constantly joined with a portion of past time, which excludes the present now or instant. Thus we say, ‘I have written a letter this day,’ ‘this week,’ &c., but ‘I wrote a letter yesterday;’ and to interchange these expressions would be improper.”

The explanation which these grammarians have given of the tense I have written, appears to me perfectly correct, and I would add, that, though the interval between the time of action and the time of speaking of it may be considerable; yet, if the mind, in consequence of the effect’s being extended to the present time, should conceive no time to have intervened, this tense is uniformly employed.

That the aorist excludes the present instant is equally true: but that it is incapable of being joined, as the latter of these grammarians supposes, to a portion of time part of which is not yet elapsed, is an assertion by no means correct; for I can say, “I wrote to-day,” or “this day,” as well as, “I have written.” “I dined to-day,” says Swift, “with Mr. Secretary St. John.” “I took some good walks in the park to-day.” “I walked purely to-day about the park.” “I was this morning with Mr. Secretary about some business.” Numberless other examples might be produced in which this tense is joined with a portion of time not wholly elapsed.

What then, it may be asked, is the difference between this and the tense which is termed the preterite definite? I shall endeavour to explain it, though, in doing this, I may be chargeable with repetition.

When an action is done in a time continuous to the present instant, we employ the auxiliary verb. Thus on finishing a letter I say, “I have written my letter,” “I possess (now) the finished action of writing a letter.”

Again: When an action is done in a space of time which the mind assumes as present, or when we express our immediate possession of things done in that space, we use the auxiliary verb. “I have this week written several letters.” “I have now the perfection of writing several letters, finished this week.”[63]

Again: When an action has been done long ago, but the mind is still in possession of its consequences, these having been extended to the present time, unconscious or regardless of the interval between the time of acting and the time of speaking, we use the auxiliary verb. Thus, “I, like others, have, in my youth, trifled with my health, and old age now prematurely assails me.” In all these cases, there is a clear reference to present time. I have must imply present possession, and that the action, either as finished or proceeding, is present to the speaker. This must be admitted, unless we suppose that the term have has no appropriate or determinate meaning.

On the other hand, the aorist excludes all idea of the present instant. It supposes an interval to have elapsed between the time of the action and the time of speaking of it; the action is represented as leaving nothing behind it which the mind conceives to have any relation to its present circumstances, as “Three days ago I lodged in the Strand.”

But, though it unquestionably excludes the present instant, or the moment of speaking, which the verb have embraces, yet it does not exclude that portion of present time which is represented as passing. All that is necessary to the use of this tense is, that the present now be excluded, that an interval have elapsed between the time of action and the time of speaking of it, and that these times shall not appear to be continuous. When Swift says, “It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance cold,” it is to be observed, that though the former of these events took place in a time making no part of the day then passing, yet its effects extended to that day; he therefore employs the auxiliary verb. When he says, “I have been dining to-day at Lord Mountjoy’s, and am come home to study,” he, in like manner, connects the two circumstances as continuous.

But when he says, “It snowed all this morning, and was some inches thick in three or four hours,” it is to be observed that, contrary to the opinion of the author[64] I have quoted, he joins the aorist with a portion of time then conceived as present or passing, but the circumstances which had taken place were nowise connected with the time of his writing, or conceived as continuous to the date of his letter. If he had said, “It has snowed all this morning, and is now two inches thick,” the two times would have appeared as continuous, their events being connected as cause and effect.

I wrote I was writing I had written.

The first of these, as a tense, has been already explained; it remains, therefore, to inquire, whether it be definite or indefinite in respect to action.

I observe, then, that a tense may frequently, by inference, denote the perfection of an action, and thus appear to be definite; though, in its real import, it be significant neither of completion nor imperfection, and therefore, in regard to action, is indefinite. This seems to be the character of the tenses, I write, I wrote, I shall write.

“Mr. Harris,” says Browne, “truly calls I wrote and I write indefinites, although the man who wrote, has written, that is, the action is perfected, and the man who writes, is writing, that is, the action is imperfect; but the perfection and imperfection, though it be implied, not being expressed, not being brought into view, (to do which the auxiliary verb is necessary,) nor intended to be so, such tenses are properly called indefinites.”

Though I am persuaded that Harris and Browne, though they concur in designing certain tenses indefinite, are in principle by no means agreed, yet the observations of the latter, when he confines the terms to action, appear to me incontrovertible. I would only remark, that it is not the presence of the auxiliary, as Browne conceives, which is necessary to denote the completion of the action, but the introduction of the perfect participle. Nay, I am persuaded, that, as it is the participle in ing, and this only, which denotes the progression or continuation of the action, this circumstance in every other phraseology being inferred, not expressed, so I am equally convinced, that it is the perfect participle only which denotes the completion of the action; and that, if any tense not compounded of this participle, express the same idea, it is by inference, and not directly. According to this view of the matter, a clear and simple analogy subsists among the tenses; thus,

Now, if the progression or the perfection of an action, as present, past, or future, be all the possible variations, and if these be expressed by the second and third classes, it follows that, if there be any precise distinction between these and the first class, or unless the latter be wholly supernumerary, it differs in this from the second and third, that while they express, either that the action is progressive, or that it is complete, the first has no reference to its perfection, or imperfection.

I was writing.

This tense, like I wrote, is, in point of time, indefinite; but, in respect to action, it is definite. It denotes that an action was proceeding in a time past, which time must be defined by some circumstance expressed or understood.

I had written.

This, as a tense, derives its character from the preterite of the verb to have, implying past possession. Had being an aorist, this tense, in regard to time, must therefore be indefinite. In respect to action it is definite, implying, that the action was finished. As the aorist expresses time past, and by inference the perfection of the action, while the latter circumstance is additionally denoted by the participle, this compound tense is employed to denote, that an action was perfected before another action or event, now also past, took place.

The character of the remaining tenses seems to require no farther explanation. I proceed therefore to consider how we express interrogations, commands, necessity, power, liberty, will, and some other accessary circumstances.

An interrogation is expressed by placing the nominative after the concordant person of the tense; thus, “Thou comest” is an affirmation; “Comest thou?” is an interrogation. If the tense be compound, the nominative is placed after the auxiliary, as “Dost thou come?” “Hast thou heard?”

A command, exhortation, or entreaty, is expressed by placing the pronoun of the second person after the simple form of the verb; as,

and sometimes by the verb simply, the person being understood; as, write, run, be, let[65]. By the help of the word let, which is equivalent to “permit thou,” or “permit ye,” we express the persons of the Latin and Greek imperatives; thus, let me, let us, let him, let them, write.

Present necessity is denoted by the verb must, thus,

This verb having only one tense, namely, the present, past necessity is expressed by the preterite definite of the verb, significant of the thing necessary, as,

Could, the preterite of the verb can, expressing past power or ability, is, like the tense might of the verb may, frequently employed to denote present time. Of their denoting past time the following may serve as examples.

“Can you construe Lycophron now? No; but once I could.”

“May you speak your sentiments freely? No; but once I might.”

That they likewise denote present time, I have already adduced sufficient evidence. Might and could, being frequently used in conjunction with other verbs, to express present time, past liberty and ability are generally denoted by the latter phraseology; thus, “I might have written,” “I could have written.” Some farther observations respecting the nature of these tenses I purpose to make, when I come to consider what has been termed the subjunctive or conjunctive mood.

The same is expressed by the verb should. Ought being now always considered as a present tense, past duty is expressed by taking the preterite definitive of the following verb.

Having shown how most of the common accessary circumstances are signified in our language, I proceed to explain how we express the circumstance of suffering, or being acted upon.

The manner of denoting this in English is simple and easy. All that is necessary is to join the verb to be with the present participle, if the state of suffering be imperfect or proceeding; and with the perfect participle, if it be complete; thus,

If the state be imperfect, the participle in ing must be substituted; thus,

Neuter verbs, expressing neither action nor passion, admit, without altering their signification, either phraseology; thus, I have arisen, or I am arisen; I was come, or I had come.

I conclude this part of the subject with a few observations concerning the subjunctive or potential mood.

Various disputes have arisen respecting the existence and the use of this mood; nor is there, perhaps, any other point in grammar, on which respectable authorities are so much divided.

That there is not in English, as in Latin, a potential mood properly so called, appears to me unquestionable. Amarem signifies ability or liberty[67], involving the verbs possum and licet, and may therefore be termed a potential mood; but in English these accessary circumstances are denoted by the preterites of the verbs may and can; as, I might or could love.

That there is no subjunctive mood, we have, I conceive, equal authority to assert. If I say in Latin, cum cepisset, “when he had taken,” the verb is strictly in the subjunctive mood; for, were not the verb subjoined to cum, it must have taken the indicative form; but I hesitate not to assert, that no example can be produced in English, where the indicative form is altered merely because the verb is preceded by some conjunctive particle. If we say, “though he were rich, he would not despise the poor,” was is not here turned into were because subjoined to though; for though is joined to the indicative mood, when the sentiment requires it; the verb therefore is not in the subjunctive mood.

In respect to what has been denominated the conditional form of the verb, I observe, that the existence of this form appears to me highly questionable. My reasons are these:

1st. Several of our grammarians have not mentioned it; among these are the celebrated Dr. Wallis, and the author of the British Grammar.

2dly. Those, who admit it, are not agreed concerning its extent. Lowth and Johnson confine it to the present tense, while Priestley extends it to the preterite.

3dly. The example which Priestley adduces of the conditional preterite, if thou drew, with a few others which might be mentioned, are acknowledged by himself to be so stiff and so harsh, that I am inclined to regard them rather as anomalies, than as constituting an authority for a general rule.

4thly. If then this form be, agreeably to the opinions of Lowth and Johnson, confined to the present tense, I must say that I have not been able to find a single example, in which the present conditional, as it is termed, is anything but an ellipsis of the auxiliary verb.

5thly. Those who admit this mood make it nothing but the plural number of the correspondent indicative tense without variation; as I love, thou love, he love, &c. Now as this is, in fact, the radical form of the verb, or what may be deemed the infinitive, as following an auxiliary, it forms a presumption that it is truly an infinitive mood, the auxiliary being suppressed.

The opinion here given will, I think, be confirmed by the following examples.

“If he say so, it is well,” i.e. “if he shall say so.”

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,” (Bible) i.e. “though he should slay.”

“Though thou detain me, I will not eat,” (Ibid.) i.e. “shouldst detain me.”

“If thy brother trespass against thee,” (Ibid.) i.e. “should trespass.”

“Though he fall, he shall not utterly be cast down,” (Ibid.) i.e. “though he should fall.”

“Remember that thou keep holy the sabbath day,” (Ibid.) i.e. “thou shouldst keep.”

There are a few examples in the use of the auxiliaries do and have, in which, when the ellipsis is supplied, the expression appears somewhat uncouth; but I am persuaded that a little attention will show, that these examples form no exception to this theory.

“If now thou do prosper my way.”—Bible. It is here obvious, that the event supposed was future; the appropriate term, therefore, to express that idea, is either shall or will. If the phrase were, “if thou prosper my way,” it would be universally admitted that the auxiliary is suppressed, thus, “if thou shalt or wilt prosper my way.” Again, when we say, “if thou do it, I shall be displeased,” it is equally evident that the auxiliary is understood, thus, “if thou shalt do it.” Now, if these examples be duly considered, and if the import of the verb to do, as formerly explained, be remembered, I think it will appear that the expression is elliptical, and truly proceeds thus, “if thou (shalt) do prosper my way.” The same observations are applicable to Shakspeare’s phraseology, when he says, “if thou do pardon, whosoever pray.” Again; when Hamlet says, “if damned custom have not brazed it so,” it is obvious that the auxiliary verb may is understood; for, if the expression be cleared of the negative, the insertion of the auxiliary creates no uncouthness; thus, “if damned custom may have brazed it so.”

I am therefore inclined to think, that the conditional form, unless in the verb to be[68], has no existence in our language.

Though this be not strictly the proper place, I would beg the reader’s attention to a few additional observations.

Many writers of classic eminence express future and contingent events by the present tense indicative. In colloquial language, or where the other form would render the expression stiff and awkward, this practice cannot justly be reprehended. But where this is not the case, the proper form, in which the note of contingency or futurity is either expressed or understood, is certainly preferable. Thus,

“If thou neglectest, or doest unwillingly, what I command thee, I will rack thee with old cramps.”—Shakspeare. Better, I think, “if thou shalt neglect or do.”

“If any member absents himself, he shall forfeit a penny for the use of the club.”—Spectator. Better, “if any member absent, or shall absent.”

“If the stage becomes a nursery of folly and impertinence, I shall not be afraid to animadvert upon it.”—Spectator. Preferably thus, “If the stage become, or shall become.”

I observe also, that there is something peculiar and deserving attention in the use of the preterite tense[69]. To illustrate the remark, I shall take the following case. A servant calls on me for a book; if I am uncertain whether I have it or not, I answer, “if the book be in my library, or if I have the book, your master shall be welcome to it:” but if I am certain that I have not the book, I say, “if the book were in my library, or if I had the book, it should be at your master’s service.” Here it is obvious that when we use the present tense it implies uncertainty of the fact; and when we use the preterite, it implies a negation of its existence. Thus also, a person at night would say to his friend, “if it rain, you shall not go,” being uncertain at the time whether it did or did not rain; but if, on looking out, he perceived it did not rain, he would then say, “if it rained, you should not go,” intimating that it did not rain.

“Nay, and the villains march wide between the legs, as if they had gyves on.”—Shakspeare. Where as if they had implies that “they had not.”

In the same manner, if I say, “I will go, if I can,” my ability is expressed as uncertain, and its dependent event left undetermined. But if I say, “I would go, if I could,” my inability is expressly implied, and the dependent event excluded. Thus also, when it is said, “if I may, I will accompany you to the theatre,” the liberty is expressed as doubtful; but when it is said, “if I might, I would accompany you,” the liberty is represented as not existing.

In thus expressing the negation of the attribute, the conjunction is often omitted, and the order inverted; thus, “if I had the book,” or “had I the book.” “Were I Alexander,” said Parmenio, “I would accept this offer;” or, “if I were Alexander, I would accept.” Were is frequently used for would be, and had for would have; as, “it were injustice to deny the execution of the law to any individual;” that is, “it would be injustice.” “Many acts, which had been blameable in a peaceable government, were employed to detect conspiracies;” where had is put for would have[70].—Hume’s History of England.

Ambiguity is frequently created by confounding fact with hypothesis, or making no distinction between dubitative and assertive phraseologies. Thus, if we employ such expressions as these, “if thou knewest,” “though he was learned,” not only to express the certainty of a fact, but likewise to denote a mere hypothesis as opposed to fact, we necessarily render the expression ambiguous. It is by thus confounding things totally distinct, that writers have been betrayed not into ambiguity only, but even into palpable errors. In evidence of this, I give the following example: “Though he were divinely inspired, and spoke therefore as the oracles of God, with supreme authority; though he were endowed with supernatural powers, and could, therefore, have confirmed the truth of what he asserted by miracles; yet in compliance with the way in which human nature and reasonable creatures are usually wrought upon, he reasoned.”—Atterbury’s Sermons.

Here the writer expresses the inspiration and the supernatural powers of Jesus, not as properties or virtues which he really did possess, but which, though not possessing them, he might be supposed to possess. Now, as his intention was to ascribe these virtues to Jesus, as truly belonging to him, he should have employed the indicative form was, and not were, as in the following sentence: “though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor.” “Though he were rich,” would imply the non-existence of the attribute; in other words, “that he was not rich.”

A very little attention would serve to prevent these ambiguities and errors. If the attribute be conceived as unconditionally certain, the indicative form without ellipsis must be employed, as, “I teach,” “I had taught,” “I shall teach.” If futurity, hypothesis, or uncertainty, be intended, with the concessive term, the auxiliary may be either expressed or understood, as perspicuity may require, and the taste and judgment of the writer may dictate; thus, “if any man teach strange doctrines, he shall be severely rebuked.” In the former clause the auxiliary verb shall is unnecessary, and is therefore, without impropriety, omitted. “Then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of thy people Israel, that thou teach them the good way wherein they should walk.”—Bible. In this example the suppression of the auxiliary verb is somewhat unfavourable to perspicuity, and renders the clause stiff and awkward. It would be better, I think, “thou mayest teach them the good way.” Harshness, indeed, and the appearance of affectation, should be particularly avoided. Where there is no manifest danger of misconception, the use of the assertive for the dubitative form is far preferable to those starched and pedantic phraseologies which some writers are fond of exhibiting. For this reason, such expressions as the following appear to me highly offensive: “if thou have determined, we must submit;” “unless he have consented, the writing will be void;” “if this have been the seat of their original formation;” “unless thou shall speak, we cannot determine.” The last I consider as truly ungrammatical. In such cases, if the dubitative phraseology should appear to be preferable, the stiffness and affectation here reprehended may frequently be prevented by inserting the note of doubt or contingency.

I observe farther, that the substitution of as for if when the affirmation is unconditional, will often serve to prevent ambiguity[71]. Thus, when the ant in the fable says to the grasshopper who had trifled away the summer in singing, “if you sung in summer, dance in winter;” as the first clause, taken by itself, leaves the meaning somewhat ambiguous, “as you sung,” would be the better expression.

IRREGULAR VERBS.

The general rule for the formation of the preterite tense, and the perfect participle, is to add to the present the syllable ed, if the verb end with a consonant, or d, if it end with a vowel, as