Of these two theories I have no hesitation in adopting the former.

My reasons are these. The intention of language is to communicate

our sentiments; to express what we think, feel, perceive, or desire.

Hence its general character is indicative or assertive. “I believe,”

“I wish,” “I see,” are affirmative sentences; and whatever variety of

forms the phraseology may assume, they are all strictly significant

of assertion, and all resolvable into the language of affirmation.

“Go,” “teach,” “read,” are equivalent to, “I desire you to go,” “to

teach,” “to read.” “Have you finished your task?” means, when the

sentiment is fully expressed, “I desire to know, whether you have

finished your task.” Ellipses of this kind are natural. They spring

from an eagerness to impart to the vehicle of our thoughts a degree

of celerity, suited to the promptitude with which the mind conceives

them. Vehemence or passion, impatient of delay, uniformly resorts to

them. The assertive form of expression I therefore conceive to be the

parent whence every other is derived, and to which it is reducible.

If this be the case, no interrogative, conceived purely as such, can

claim so early an origin as definite or affirmative terms. Hence we

may conclude, that _who_, _which_, _when_, _where_, were at first

used as relatives, and came afterwards, by implication, to denote

interrogations.

Again, we know that the meaning of an expression is frequently

collected, not so much from the strict import of the terms, as from

the tone or manner in which it is delivered. If I say, “he did it,”

the sentence is affirmative; yet, by the tone of voice or manner of

the speaker, this affirmative sentence may denote an interrogation.

Thus, “he did it?” by an elevation of the voice, or the mode of

notation, maybe rendered equivalent to “did he do it?” “Who did it”

is in like manner an affirmative clause; but it is obvious that this

form of expression, like the other now adduced, may be likewise

employed to note an interrogation, thus, “Who did it?” And it is

evident, that, if the ellipsis be supplied, the sentence would read

thus, “I want to know who did it.” The preceding clause, however, is

sufficiently supplied by the manner of the speaker. An ellipsis of

this kind seems to be involved in every interrogation. If I say, “did

he do it?” it is equivalent to “tell me, if he did it.” Accordingly,

we find that the Latins, in such interrogations, employed only the

latter clause; for _an_ (whether), which is termed an interrogative,

is, in fact, nothing but the Greek ἂν, synonymous with _si_ (if)

among the Latins. “_An fecit_,” did he do it? is therefore strictly

equivalent to “_si fecit_” if he did it, the former clause “tell

me,” being understood, and its import supplied by the manner of the

speaker, or the mode of notation.

Besides, let any person ask himself what idea he annexes to the word

_who_, considered as an interrogative, and I am persuaded he will be

sensible that he cannot form any distinct conception of its import.

I am inclined therefore to think that interrogatives are strictly

relatives: and that these relatives, by the aid of voice, gesture, or

some explanatory circumstance, answer the purpose of interrogation.

In using these pronouns interrogatively, it is to be observed, that

_who_ and _which_ are each applied to persons, which is not the case

when they are employed as relatives. This difference, however, is to

be observed, that when the pronoun _which_ is used interrogatively,

and applied to persons, it is generally, if not always, understood

that the character of the individual, who is the object of inquiry,

is in presence of the inquirer, or is in some degree known. _Who_ is

more indefinite. If I say, “which is the man?” I mean “who _of those

now before me_?” or of those who have been described? Agreeably to

this notion, we say, “which of _the_ two,” not “who of the two,” was

guilty of this crime?

If I say, “Who is the man that will dare to affirm?” it implies that

I am entirely a stranger to him, and that I even doubt his existence.

“Which is the man?” not only implies his existence, but also that the

aggregate of individuals, whence the selection is made, is known to

me.

_What_ is also used interrogatively, and is employed in introducing

questions, whether the subject be persons or things, as, “What man

is that?” “What book is this?” When no substantive is subjoined, it

is then wholly indefinite, as, “What is man that thou art mindful of

him?” When we inquire, therefore, into the character of any person,

and not for the individual himself, it is to be remembered that we

employ this pronoun, and not _who_ or _which_.

There seems to be the same difference between _who_ and _what_

definite, as between _who_ and _which_. If I say, “What man will dare

to affirm this?” and “Which man will dare?” &c., it is obvious that

the former interrogatory is more indefinite than the latter; the one

implying a total ignorance of the individual, and some doubt of his

existence; the other, that he is one of a number in some degree known

to the inquirer.

When any defining clause is subjoined, either may be used, as, “What,

or which, man among you, having a hundred sheep, and losing one,

would not leave the ninety and nine?”

The pronoun _whether_ is equivalent to “which of the two.” It is the

Teutonic word _wether_, bearing the same relation to _wer_, “who” or

“which,” as _either_ does to _ein_, “one,” and _neither, newether_,

to _nie_ or _nehein_, “none.”

This word, though now generally employed or considered as a

conjunction, is in truth reducible to the class of words which we

are now examining, and is precisely synonymous with _uter_, _tra_,

_trum_, of the Latins. “Whether is it easier to say?”--_Bible._

Here _whether_ is truly a pronoun, and is the nominative to the

following verb.

“Whether is greater, the gold or the temple?”--_Ibid._

In these examples, _whether_ is precisely the same with “which of

the two.” It seems now to be giving place to the word _which_, as

the comparative, when two things are compared, is often supplanted

by the superlative. Thus we often say, when speaking of two,

“which is the best,” instead of “whether is better.” The Latins

almost uniformly observed the distinction:--“Uter dignior, quis

dignissimus?”--_Quint._

The pronoun _it_ is used indefinitely, and applied to persons or

things.

Dr. Johnson has objected to the use of this pronoun in those examples

wherein the pronouns of the first or second persons are employed; and

Dr. Lowth has censured it when referring to a plural number, as in

the following example:

“’T is these, that give the great Atrides spoils.”--_Pope._

I concur, however, with the learned author of the Philosophy of

Rhetoric, who regards the objections of these critics as, in this

instance, of no weight. For when a question is asked, the subject of

which is totally unknown, there must be some indefinite word employed

to denote the subject of the interrogation. The word which we use for

this purpose is _it_, as, “Who is it?” “What is it?” This phraseology

is established by universal usage, and is therefore unexceptionable.

This being the case, there can be no impropriety in repeating in the

answer the indefinite term employed in the question. We may therefore

reply, “It is I,” “It is he,” “It is she.”

Now, if the term be admitted in questions and answers where the

subject may be either male or female, and of the first, second, or

third person, it surely is admissible in those cases also where the

subject is in the plural number. Nay, to use in the answer any other

word to express the subject than that by which it is signified in

the question, would be in all cases, if not productive of ambiguity,

at least less precise. “Who is it?” says a master to his servant,

hearing a voice in the hall. “It is the gentlemen who called

yesterday,” replies the servant. Who sees not that “they are the

gentlemen,” would be an answer less accordant with the terms of the

question, and would less clearly show that “the gentlemen,” and “the

subject of inquiry,” both being denoted by one term, are one and the

same? Had the master known that it was the voice of a gentleman, and

that there were more than one, and had he accordingly said, “Who are

they?” the answer would have properly been “They are the gentlemen.”

But when the question is “Who is it?” I apprehend the only apposite

answer is, “It is the gentlemen,” the identity of the terms (_it_

being repeated) clearly evincing an identity of subject in the

question and in the answer; in other words, that the subject of the

inquiry, and the subject of the answer, are one and the same.

I conclude with observing, that, though I have here considered the

word _that_ as a pronoun, there can be no question that in its import

it is precisely the same with the demonstrative _that_, which has

been already explained. “The house that you built is burned,” is

resolvable thus, “The house is burned, you built that.”

CHAPTER IV.

OF THE ADJECTIVE.

An adjective has been defined by most grammarians to be “that part

of speech which signifies an accident, quality, or property of a

thing.” This definition appears to me to be somewhat defective and

incorrect: for the adjective does not express the quality simply,

but the quality or property, as conjoined with a substance; or, as

grammarians have termed it, _in concreto_. Thus, when we say “good

man,” _goodness_ is the name of the quality, and _good_ is the

adjective expressing that quality, as conjoined with the subject

_man_. Accordingly, every adjective is resolvable into the name of

the thing implied, and any term of reference or conjunction, as

_of_, _with_. Thus “a prudent man” is equivalent to “a man with” or

“having prudence” or to “a man of prudence.” An adjective, therefore,

is that part of speech which denotes any substance or attribute,

not by itself, but as conjoined with a subject, or pertaining to

its character. This conjunction is generally marked by changing the

termination of the simple name of the substantive or attribute, as

_fool_, _foolish_, _wax_, _waxen_. Sometimes no change is made; and

the simple name of the substance, or attribute, is prefixed to the

name of the subject, as _sea fowl_, _race horse_, _corn field_. In

writing these, and similar expressions, the conjunction is sometimes

marked by a hyphen, as _sea-fowl_, _river-fish_, _wine-vessel_.

As every appellative denotes the whole of a genus or species, the

intention and effect of the adjective is, by limiting the generic

meaning of the substantive, to specify what part of the genus or

species is the subject of discourse. If I say “man,” the term is

universal: it embraces the species. If I say “a man,” the expression

is indefinite, being applicable to any individual of the kind. If I

say “a good man,” I confine the term to an individual distinguished

by goodness. Here _man_ expresses the substance; and _good_ the

quality _in concreto_. Sometimes, on the contrary, the substantive

is the general name of the quality or property; and the adjective

modifies or determines its degree, as, _wisdom_, _little wisdom_. Let

us take another example. The word _stone_ is applicable to a whole

species of substances. If I say _round stone_, I confine the meaning

of the substantive to that part of the genus which is distinguished

by roundness. Here the substantive denotes the matter, or substance,

in general, and the adjective limits its signification, by expressing

the form. Sometimes the converse takes place, as _golden globe_.

Here the substantive is the generic name of a certain figure; and

the adjective, by expressing the matter, confines that figure to the

substance of gold.

Some grammarians have denominated this part of speech by the name of

adjective noun; to others this designation appears inadmissible. The

latter observe, that neither is the adjective the name of anything,

nor is it in English variable, like the substantive. They allow,

that in Greek and Latin, the designation in question is, in some

degree, justifiable, because, though the noun and adjective differ

essentially in office, in these languages, they agree in form; but in

our language they deem it a singular impropriety[35].

I have said that the adjective denotes a substance, quality, or

property, “as pertaining,” or _in concreto_. Now, it is to be

observed, that substances do not admit degrees of _more_ or _less_,

in regard to their essential character. “A wooden table” cannot be

more or less wooden. “An iron bar” cannot be more or less such. In

these cases, the adjective, as I have already remarked, by expressing

the matter, limits the form to one species of substance. The same

observation is applicable to the converse circumstance, in which

the form strictly limits the matter, as “triangular board.” Here

it is obvious, that the substance limited to one form by the term

_triangular_, cannot be more or less triangular. But this is not

the case with qualities or properties, which may exist in different

substances in different degrees. And, as it is sometimes necessary

to express the existence of a quality, as greater or less in one

substance than another, hence arises the utility of some form of

expression to denote these relative degrees of its existence. It

is in this case only, that the termination of the adjective admits

variation; and then it is said to be in a state of comparison.

In all qualities susceptible of intension or remission, the number of

degrees, from the lowest to the highest, may be accounted infinite.

Hardness, for example, gravity, magnitude, genius, wisdom, folly,

are severally diversified by an infinitude of gradations, which it

would elude the capacity of any language to discriminate. To denote

these degrees, is, therefore, utterly impracticable, as it is wholly

unnecessary.

In English, as in most other languages, we employ two variations:

the one to denote simple excess, or a greater degree of the quality

than that which is expressed by the adjective itself; and the other

to denote the greatest excess. Thus, if I compare wood with stone,

as possessing the quality of hardness, I say, “wood is hard,” “stone

is harder.” If I compare these with iron, I say, “wood is hard,”

“stone harder,” “iron the hardest.” Thus, in truth, there are only

two degrees of comparison, viz. the comparative and the superlative,

the positive expressing the quality simply and absolutely.

The comparative is formed by adding _er_ to the positive, if it end

with a consonant; or the letter _r_, if it end with a vowel; as,

_soft, softer_; _safe, safer_.

The superlative is formed by adding _est_, or _st_, as, _soft,

softest_; _safe, safest_[36].

Some adjectives are compared irregularly, as,

_Pos._ _Comp._ _Super._

Good Better Best

Bad or Evil Worse Worst

Little Less Least

Much More Most

Many More Most

Near Nearer Nearest or next

Late Later Latest or last.

The comparative degree is frequently expressed by the word _more_,

and the superlative by _most_, as,

_Pos._ _Comp._ _Super._

Hard More hard Most hard.

Monosyllabic adjectives are generally compared by annexing _r_ or

_er_, _st_ or _est_; adjectives of two or more syllables by _more_

and _most_, as, _strong, stronger, strongest_; _certain, more

certain, most certain_.

Dissyllabic adjectives in _y_ form an exception to this rule, as

_happy, happier, happiest_.

Adjectives of two syllables ending in _le_, after a mute, are also

excepted, as, _able, abler, ablest_.

Euphony seems here to be generally consulted, and the ear may be

allowed perhaps to furnish the best rule.

Some form their superlative by adding _most_ to the comparative, as,

_nether, nethermost_; _lower, lowermost_; _under, undermost_: others

by adding _most_ either to the positive or comparative, as, _hind,

hindmost_, or _hindermost_; _up, upmost_ or _uppermost_. From _in_,

we have _inmost_ and _innermost_[37].

Besides this definite and direct kind of comparison, there is

another, which may be termed indefinite or indirect, expressed by the

intensive words _too_, _very_, _exceedingly_, &c., as, _too good_,

_very hard_, _exceedingly great_.

When the word _very_, or any other of the same import, is put before

the positive, it is called by some writers the superlative of

eminence, to distinguish it from the other superlative, which has

been already mentioned, and is called the superlative of comparison.

Thus, _very hard_ is termed the superlative of eminence; _most hard_,

or _hardest_, the superlative of comparison.

I have said that the comparative denotes simple excess, and the

superlative the greatest. It is not, however, to be hence inferred,

that the comparative may not be employed in expressing the same

pre-eminence or inferiority with the superlative. If I say, “Of all

acquirements virtue is the most valuable,” I may also convey the

same sentiment by saying, “Virtue is more valuable than every other

acquirement.” If it be asked, what then is the difference between the

comparative and superlative? I answer,

1st. That the superlative expresses the absolutely highest or

lowest degree of the quality, as when we say, “O God most high;” or

the greatest or least degree, in relation merely to the subjects

of comparison, thus expressing a superiority of excess above the

comparative, as when I say, “In estimating the worth of these human

attainments, learning, prudence, and virtue, it cannot be denied

that learning is valuable, that prudence is more valuable, but that

virtue is the most valuable.” The comparative expresses merely simple

excess, but never the highest or lowest degree of the quality. This

distinction is, perhaps, the most precise, and the most worthy of

attention.

I observe, however, that the sentiment in the last example may be

expressed by the comparative, but not simply, or by itself; thus,

“Learning is valuable, prudence more valuable, and virtue more

valuable still,” the word _still_ implying a continued gradation.

Were this word suppressed, the sentence would imply that prudence

and virtue are each more valuable than learning, but would assert no

superiority of virtue to prudence. The same sentiment may likewise be

expressed by combining the two first, and marking simply the excess

of the third, thus, “virtue is better than both.”

2dly. When we express the superiority or inferiority of one of two

things, or of two aggregates, we almost always use the comparative.

Thus, speaking of Cæsar and Cato, I say, “Cato was the more

virtuous, Cæsar the more eloquent;” or of two brothers, we say, “John

was the elder.”

In such cases the superlative is sometimes employed, as, “the best of

the two,” instead of “the better of the two.” The former phraseology,

however, is more consonant to established usage, and is in every case

to be preferred. “Whether is it easier to say, ‘take up thy bed and

walk,’ or to say, ‘thy sins are forgiven thee?’” that is, which of

the two is “easier,” not “easiest,” the simple excess of one thing

above another being here denoted.

3dly. When we use the superlative, we always compare one thing, or

an aggregate number of things, with the class to which they belong,

or to which we refer them; whereas, when we use the comparative,

except in the case just mentioned, the things compared either

belong, or are conceived as belonging, to different classes, being

placed in opposition to each other. Thus, in comparing Socrates, who

was an Athenian, with the other Athenians, we say, “Socrates was

the wisest of the Athenians;” that is, “of,” “out of,” or “of the

class of Athenians.” Hence in Latin the superlative often takes the

preposition _ex_ (out of) to denote that the object compared belongs

to the order of things with which it is compared; the comparative

very rarely.

Now the same sentiment may be expressed by the comparative; but then

the _Athenians_ and _Socrates_, though belonging to one species, are

conceived as mutually opposed, and referred to different places,

whereas the superlative refers them to one common aggregate. Thus, if

we employ the comparative, we say, “Socrates was wiser than any other

Athenian.”

Agreeably to the observation now made, we cannot say, “Cicero was

more eloquent than the Romans,” or “than any Roman;” because Cicero

was himself a Roman, one of the class with which he is compared,

and could not therefore be more eloquent than himself. As the

objects compared belong, therefore, to one class, and are not two

individuals, nor two aggregates, the comparative cannot be employed,

unless by placing them in opposition, or referring them to different

places, as, “Cicero was more eloquent than any other Roman.” Here

the word _other_ denotes that opposition, that diversity of place

or species, which, in all cases but the one already mentioned, is

essentially implied in the use of the comparative.

I have observed already, that when the superlative is employed, the

things compared are referred to one aggregate; and that when the

comparative is used, they are contradistinguished by a different

reference. This distinction obtains uniformly, unless when we compare

only two individuals, or two classes, both referred to one aggregate,

as “the elder of the Catos,” “of these two nations (speaking of

the Greeks and Romans), the latter were the more warlike.” In

such examples as these, the comparative, while it retains its own

distinctive character, denoting simple excess, partakes also of the

nature of the superlative, the objects compared being referred by the

preposition to one and the same aggregate. But as the superlative

is always followed by _of_, and the comparative, in every case

except the one now mentioned, followed by _than_, some writers say,

“the eldest of the two,” “the latter were the most warlike.” This

phraseology, however conformable to the generally distinguished

usage of the comparative and superlative, is repugnant to the

characteristic power of these degrees, by which one denotes simple

excess, while the other heightens or lessens the quality to its

highest or lowest degree.

From the preceding remarks will appear the impropriety of saying,

“Jacob loved Joseph more than all his children.”[38] Joseph being one

of his children, the sentiment expressed involves an absurdity: it

should be “more than all his other children.” “In the beginning of

the 16th century, Spain is said to have possessed a thousand merchant

ships, a number probably far superior to that of any nation in Europe

in that age.” (Robertson’s America.) It should be, “that of any other

nation in Europe:” for, Spain being one of the European nations, she

could not possess a number superior to her own. The comparative

required the terms to be contrasted by the word _other_.

“Adam

The comeliest of men since born

His sons. The fairest of her daughters Eve.”--_Milton._

“Adam,” the antecedent subject of comparison, is here improperly

referred to the aggregate of “men since born.” To this aggregate he

cannot be said to belong, not having been “born,” nor being reducible

to the class of “his own sons.” Eve also is referred to a species of

which she was no part. In neither of these comparisons can the second

term include the first; yet the preposition refers them to one class.

Such phraseologies as these, though not ungrammatical, involve an

absurdity, and should therefore be dismissed.

Adjectives, whose signification does not admit intension or

remission, cannot be compared. Among these are to be reckoned,

1st, All words expressive of figure, as _circular_, _square_,

_triangular_, _perpendicular_, _straight_; for it is obvious, that

if a body or figure be triangular, or square, or circular, it

cannot be more or less so. It is either circular, or not circular;

triangular, or not triangular; straight, or not straight. If the

affirmative be the case, gradation from more or less, or conversely,

is impossible; if the negative be true, then the attributes denoted

by these adjectives do not belong to it; and therefore the epithets

_circular_, _triangular_, _straight_, &c., are inapplicable. Hence

such expressions as these, “place the staff more erect,” “make the

field more triangular,” are highly improper. We should say, “set the

staff erect,” “make the field triangular.”

2dly. All adjectives whose signification, in their simple form,

implies the highest or lowest possible degree, admit not comparison,

as, _chief_, _supreme_, _universal_, _perfect_, _extreme_, &c. Hume,

speaking of enthusiasm, says (Essays, vol. i. p. 72), “it begets the

most extreme resolutions.” _Extreme_ implies the farthest, or the

greatest possible, and cannot admit intension.

I am aware that usage may be pleaded in favour of “_more_ and _most

universal_, _more_ and _most perfect_.” This usage, however, is

not such as will sanction the former of these phraseologies; for

good writers generally avoid it. Besides, there is no necessity for

resorting to this mode of expression, as we have an attributive

appropriate to the idea intended: thus, instead of saying,

“Literature is more universal in England than America,” we should

say, “Literature is more general.” It is almost unnecessary to

observe, that literature in England is either universal, or it is

not; if the former be true, it cannot be more than universal; if

the latter, the term is inapplicable. The word _general_ does not

comprise the whole; it admits intension and remission: the adjective

_universal_ implies totality. A general rule admits exceptions; a

universal rule embraces every particular.

The expression “_more perfect_” is, in strictness of speech, equally

exceptionable; usage, however, has given it a sanction which we

dare hardly controvert. It has been proposed, indeed, to avoid this

and similar improprieties, by giving the phraseology a negative,

or indirect form. Thus, instead of saying, “A time-keeper is a

more perfect machine than a watch,” it has been proposed to say,

“A time-keeper is a less imperfect machine than a watch.” This

phraseology is logically correct, perfection being predicable of

neither the one thing nor the other; it might likewise, in many

cases, be adopted with propriety. In the language of passion,

however, and in the colourings of imagination, such expressions would

be exanimate and intolerable. A lover, expatiating with rapture on

the beauty and perfection of his mistress, would hardly call her,

“the _least imperfect of her sex_.”

In all languages, indeed, examples are to be found of adjectives

being compared whose signification admits neither intension nor

remission. It would be easy to assign several reasons for this, did

the discussion belong to the province of the grammarian[39]. Suffice

it to say, that such phraseologies should never be admitted where the

language will furnish correct, and equally apposite, expressions.

I observe also, that as those adjectives whose signification cannot

be heightened or lessened admit not comparison, so, for the same

reason, they exclude all intensive words. The expressions, _so

universal_, _so extreme_, and such like, are therefore improper.

The former is indeed common enough; but it is easy to see, as it

has been already remarked, that whatever is universal cannot be

increased or diminished; and that what is less than universal, cannot

be characterized by that epithet. The phrase _so universal_ implies

a gradation in universality, and that something is less so than an

another; which is evidently impossible.

It has been questioned, whether _prior_, _superior_, _ulterior_,

_exterior_, and several others, which have the form of the Latin

comparative, should be deemed comparatives. I am inclined to think,

they ought not, for these reasons; 1st, They have not the form of the

English comparative; 2dly, They are never followed by _than_, which

uniformly accompanies the English comparative, when the subjects are

opposed to each other, or referred to different classes; 3dly, It is

not to be conceived, that every adjective, which implies comparison,

is therefore a comparative or superlative, otherwise _preferable_

(better than), _previous_ (prior to), might be deemed comparatives;

4thly, Many of these have truly a positive meaning, not implying an

excess of the quality, but merely the quality, as opposed to its

contrary. The _interior_ means simply the _inside_, as opposed to the

_exterior_ or _outside_; the _anterior_, “the one before,” opposed to

_posterior_, “the one behind.”

I dismiss this article with observing, that the signification of the

positive is sometimes lessened by the termination _ish_; as, _white,

whitish_; _black, blackish_. Johnson remarks, that the adjective

in this form may be considered as in a state of comparison; it may

properly be called a diminutive.

CHAPTER V.

OF THE VERB.

A verb has been defined to be “that part of speech which signifies

to be, to do, or to suffer;” or more correctly, “that part of speech

which predicates some action, passion, or state of its subject,”

as “I strike,” “I am wounded,” “I stand.” Its essence consists in

affirmation, and by this property it is distinguished from every

other part of speech. The adjective expresses an accident, quality,

or property of a thing _in concreto_; that is, when joined to the

name of a substance, it expresses that substance, as accompanied by

some attribute: in other words, it limits a generic name, confining

it to that part of the kind, which possesses the character, which

the attributive specifies; but it affirms nothing. Thus, if we say,

“_a wise man_,” which is equivalent to “a man with,” or “having

wisdom,” there is no affirmation; an individual is singled from a

species, under the character of wisdom, but nothing is asserted of

this individual. If we say “the man is wise,” there is something

affirmed of the man, and the affirmation is expressed by _is_. If

the attribute and the assertion be combined in the expression, as

in Latin _vir sapit_, it is obvious that the essence of the verb

consists, not in denoting the attribute wisdom, but in affirming

that quality, as belonging to the subject; for, if you cancel the

assertion, the verb is immediately converted into an adjective, and

the expression becomes _vir sapiens_, a wise man.

The simplest of all verbs is that which the Greeks call a verb of

existence, namely, the verb _to be_. This verb frequently denotes

pure affirmation, as “God is good,” where the verb, or _copula_,

as it has been termed, serves to predicate of the Deity, the

attribute denoted by the following word. Hence, as it expresses

mere affirmation, the Latins call it a substantive verb, in

contradistinction to those verbs which, with an attribute, denote

assertion, and were called by some grammarians adjective verbs.

Sometimes it predicates pure or absolute existence, as “God is,”

that is, “God _exists_.” In the following example it occurs in both

senses. “We believe that thou art, and that thou art the rewarder of

them who diligently seek thee.”

As nouns denote the subjects of our discourse, so verbs predicate

their accidents, or properties. The former are the names of things,

the latter what we say concerning them. These two, therefore, must

be the only essential parts of speech; for to mental communication

nothing else can be indispensably requisite, than to name the subject

of our thoughts, and to express our sentiments of its attributes

or properties. And as the verb essentially expresses affirmation,

without which there could be no communication of sentiment, it has

been hence considered as the principal part of speech, and was

therefore called, by the ancient grammarians, _verb_, or _the word_,

by way of eminence. The noun, however, is unquestionably of earlier

origin. To assign names to surrounding objects would be a matter of

the first necessity: the next step would be to express their most

common actions, or states of being. This indeed is the order of

nature--the progress of intellect.

Mr. Tooke observes that, “the verb does not imply any assertion, and

that no single word can.” “Till one single thing,” says he, “can be

found to be a couple, one single word cannot make an assertion or

affirmation: for there is joining in that operation, and there can be

no junction of one thing.” This theory he illustrates by the tense

_ibo_, which he resolves thus:

_English_ Hi[40] Wol Ich

_Latin_ I Vol O

_Greek_ Ι Βουλ Εω.

The first of each triad are the simple verbs, equivalent to _go_.

The second are the verbs _Wol_, _Vol_, Βουλ, denoting _will_. The

third are the pronouns of the first person. Whatever opinion may be

formed respecting the truth of this analysis, its ingenuity will

not be questioned. There are two objections, however, by which its

justness may possibly be controverted. The first is, if the personal

pronouns are contained, as Mr. Tooke says, in the Greek and Latin

terminations of the three persons of their verbs, why is the pronoun

repeated with the verb? If the _o_ in _volo_ be an abbreviated suffix

for _ego_, why do we redundantly say _ego volo_? Now, in answer to

this objection, it might be observed, were we disposed to indulge

in mere hypothesis, that the involution of the pronoun may have

eluded the attention of the Latins; or, if this explanation should be

deemed too improbable, it may be supposed that usage, against whose

decree there is no appeal, may have established the repetition of the

pronoun at the expense of strict propriety. One thing particularly

deserves attention, that the pronoun was seldom or never used, unless

in cases where emphasis was implied, or an antithesis of persons was

to be strongly marked. But without resorting to conjectures, which

may be deemed vague and unsatisfactory, we may appeal to a fact which

is decisive of the point in question. I have already observed, that

in the Hebrew language we can distinctly mark the pronouns suffixed

to the verb; yet we find the Hebrew writers repeating the pronouns

even in cases where no emphasis is intended. Thus, in Gen. xlviii.

22, _Ve-ani nathatti_, “and I have given;” Job xix. 25, _Ve-ani

iadahgti_, “and I knew;” Deut. ix. 2, _attah iadahghta, ve-atta

shamahgh ta_, “thou knowest, and thou hast heard.” In these examples,

the pronoun is both incorporated with the verb and repeated by

itself. Whatever may be the abstract propriety of this phraseology,

its existence in Hebrew is sufficient to obviate the objection

proposed.

Again, it may be urged, if the pronoun _ego_ be suffixed to the verb,

why do not all the tenses in the first person singular end in _o_?

This second objection may also be partly, if not entirely, removed.

The Latin language appears to be a commixture of Greek and one of the

northern languages. This commixture will account for the first person

singular sometimes ending in _o_, in imitation of the Greeks, and at

other times in _m_, in imitation of the Celts. The present tense of

the Gaelic, a dialect of the Celtic, proceeds thus: _sgriobh-aim_, “I

write,” sgriobh-air, sgriobh-aidh, sgriobh-amoid, sgriobh-aoidhesi,

sgriobh-aidsion. Here, as Whiter observes, we have something

resembling the Latin verb _scribo_: and it is to be remarked that the

first person singular ends in _m_, which the Romans most probably

adopted as one of their verbal terminations. And could we prosecute

the inquiry, and investigate the structure of the Greek and Celtic

tenses themselves, we should doubtless find, that they involve, along

with the radical word, one or more terms expressing the accessary

ideas of action, passion, state, person, time, and so forth. The same

theory, we are persuaded, may be applied to all languages, in which

the tenses are formed by variety of termination.

Nothing, I conceive, can be more evident, than that the inflexions

of nouns and verbs, how inexplicable soever they may now prove,

were not originally the result of systematic art, but were separate

terms significant of the circumstances intended, and afterwards, by

celerity of pronunciation, coalesced with the words of which they now

form the terminations.

It has been observed, that the essence of the verb consists in

affirmation. This theory, I have remarked, is controverted by Mr.

Tooke. It must be obvious, however, from the preceding observations,

that the difference between the opinion of this eminent philologist,

and that which is here delivered, is more apparent than real. For

Mr. Tooke will not deny, that an affirmation is implied in _ibo_; he

merely observes, that every assertion requires “a couple of terms.”

Now it is of little moment to the point in question whether the two

terms be incorporated in one, as in _lego_, or remain separate, as “I

read.” In either case the verb affirms something of its nominative,

whether that nominative appear in a simple or in a compound state.

Sometimes the affirmation is expressed by a separate and appropriate

sign, as _ille est dives_, “he is rich:” and the verb of existence

(_to be_) is supposed, by several critics and philologists, to have

been coeval with the earliest infancy of language. In English, the

affirmation, and also the action, are frequently denoted, simply by

the junction of the name of the attribute with the nominative of

the subject, whether noun or pronoun. Thus, if we say, “my will,”

“the children’s will,” there is no affirmation implied, and the term

_will_ is considered as a mere name. But if we say, “I will,” “the

children will,” it becomes invested with a different character,

and affirms the volition to belong to the subject. Thus also, “the

hero’s might,” “the hero might,” “my ken” (my knowledge or ability),

“I ken,” _I can_, or _I am able_; “my love,” “I love.” Mr. Tooke

observes, that when we say “I love,” there is an ellipsis of the word

_do_. This appears to me a probable opinion, though not entirely

unobjectionable. For though we find the auxiliary more frequently

used in old English than in modern compositions, yet it does not

occur so frequently as, according to this hypothesis, we should

naturally expect. Mr. Tooke indeed admits the fact; but observes,

that Chaucer had less occasion to use it, because in his time the

distinguishing terminations of the verb still remained, though they

were not constantly employed. Now I find, as Mr. Tyrwhitt remarks,

that Chaucer seldom uses the word _do_ as an auxiliary, even in those

cases where the verb and the noun are identical. This circumstance

might lead us to infer that the English present was derived from

the Saxon, by dropping the termination, as _ic lufige_, _I love_;

the affirmation and the action being sufficiently obvious from the

construction, and that it was originally optional to say either “I

love,” or “I do love.” Be that as it may, the assertion expressed by

“I do,” equivalent to “I act,” appears clearly to be signified by the

junction of the nominative pronoun with the sign of action. Whether a

note of affirmation was at first separately employed, and afterwards

involved in the verbal termination, or whether the affirmation be

merely inferred and not signified, this is certain, that it is by the

verb, and the verb only, that we can express affirmation.

As every subject of discourse must be spoken of as either doing or

suffering something, either acting or acted upon; or as neither doing

nor suffering; hence verbs have been divided by all grammarians into

active, passive, and neuter.

The verb active denotes that the subject of discourse is doing

something, as, _I write_; the passive verb, that the subject suffers,

or is acted upon, as, _the book is burned_; and the neuter denotes

neither the one nor the other, but expresses merely the state,

posture, or condition of the subject, as unaffected by anything else,

as, _I sit_, _I sleep_, _I stand_.

Action, energy, or motion may either be confined to the agent, or

pass from him to something extrinsic. Hence active verbs have been

divided into transitive and intransitive. An active transitive verb

denotes that kind of action by which the agent affects something

foreign to himself, or which passes from the agent to something

without him, as, _to beat a drum_, _to whip a horse_, _to kill a

dog_. _Beat_, _whip_, _kill_, are active transitive verbs; and it is

the characteristic of these verbs that they admit a noun after them,

denoting the subject of the action.

An active intransitive verb denotes that species of action or energy,

which passes not from the agent to anything else; that is, it

expresses what has been termed immanent energy. Hence an intransitive

verb does not admit a noun after it, there being no extrinsic subject

or object affected by the action. Thus, _I run_, _I walk_, _the horse

gallops_, are examples of active intransitive verbs[41].

Webster, in his Dissertations on the English Language, delivers it

as his opinion, that the division of verbs into active, passive, and

neuter is incorrect; and that the only accurate distribution is into

transitive and intransitive. “Is not a man,” says he, “passive in

hearing? yet hearing is called an active verb.”

It is doubtless true, that _to hear_, and many other verbs, commonly

called active, denote chiefly, perhaps, the effect of an extrinsic or

foreign act. But whether we view the matter as a question either in

metaphysics or in grammar, we shall perceive but little impropriety

in adopting the common distinction. For, though the verb _to hear_

denotes, perhaps, chiefly, that a certain impression is made on

the mind through the auditory organ, yet even here the mind is not

entirely passive, as, were this the place for such a discussion, it

would be easy to prove. _I see_, _I hear_, _I feel_, _I perceive_,

denote not only the sensation in which we are passive, but also

a perception, to which the consent or activity of the mind is

unquestionably essential. Hence these verbs have, in all languages,

been denominated active. But if the term transitive be the only

correct name, it may be asked, why does Mr. Webster call this verb by

that appellation? He would answer, I doubt not, “because something

passes from the agent to something else.” What, then, is that

something which passes? I am afraid Mr. Webster would have difficulty

in answering this question, so as to justify the term transitive,

without admitting the verb to be active. For, if it be not an act, an

energy, or some operation of the mind, what is it, or how can it pass

from one to another? The truth is, this objection of Mr. Webster to

the term active in such cases, is founded neither on metaphysical nor

grammatical principles; for by an active transitive verb is meant,

that which admits a noun as its regimen; and, for the purposes of

grammar, this name is sufficiently correct. If the point in question

be metaphysically considered, it would be easy to demonstrate that,

though in sensation the mind be passive, in perception it is active.

I would here observe, in passing, that there are many verbs neuter

and intransitive, which, followed by a preposition, may be truly

considered as active transitive verbs. These have been denominated,

by the learned Dr. Campbell, compound active verbs. _To laugh_, for

example, is a neuter verb; it cannot therefore admit a passive voice,

as, “_I am laughed_.” _To laugh at_ may be considered as an active

transitive verb; for it not only admits an objective case after it

in the active voice, but is likewise construed as a passive verb,

as, “_I am laughed at_.” Here an obvious analogy obtains between

these two and the verbs _rideo_, _derideo_, in Latin; the former of

which is a neuter, and the latter an active verb. Nor, as the same

ingenious writer observes, does it matter whether the preposition be

prefixed to the simple verb, as in Latin, in order to form the active

verb, or be put after, and detached, as is the case in English. The

only grammatical criterion in our language between an active and

a neuter verb is this: if the verb admits an objective case after

it, either with or without a preposition, to express the subject or

object of the energy, the verb may be grammatically considered as a

compound active verb; for thus construed it has a passive voice. If

the verb does not thus admit an objective case, it must be considered

grammatically as neuter or intransitive, and has no passive voice.

_To smile_ is a neuter verb; it cannot, therefore, be followed by an

objective case, nor be construed as a passive verb. We cannot say,

_she smiled him_, or _he was smiled_. _To smile on_, according to

the principle now proposed, is a compound active verb; we therefore

say, _she smiled on him_. _He was smiled on by Fortune in every

undertaking[42]._

As all things exist in time, and whatever is predicable of any

subject must be predicated as either past, present, or future, every

action, energy, or state of being, coming under one or other of

these predicaments, hence arises the utility of tenses, to express

the times, or relative order of their existence. In regard to the

number of these tenses[43], necessary to render a language complete,

grammarians have been somewhat divided in opinion.

In our language we have two simple tenses, the present and the

preterperfect[44]. The latter is generally formed by adding _d_

or _ed_ to the present, as _love, loved_; _fear, feared_. That the

suffix here is a contraction for _did_, as Mr. Tooke supposes, I can

easily imagine; thus, _fear_, _fear-did_, _feared_, or _did fear_;

but the question returns, whence comes the termination _ed_ in

_doed_, from which _did_ itself is contracted? This query seems to

have escaped the attention of the learned author[45].

Actions and states of being may be predicated as either certain or

contingent, free or necessary, possible or impossible, obligatory

or optional; in short, as they may take place in a variety of ways,

they may be spoken of, as diversified in their modes of production.

Hence arises another accident of verbs, called a mood, expressing

the mode or manner of existence. These modes are, in some languages,

partly expressed by inflexions, partly by auxiliary verbs, or

words significant of the model diversity. In English there is only

one mood, namely, the indicative. The Greeks and Romans expressed

by inflections the most common modes of action or existence, as

conditionality, power, contingency, certainty, liberty, and duty. In

our language they are denoted by auxiliary verbs.

The English verb has only one voice, namely, the active. Dr.

Lowth, and most other grammarians, have assigned it two voices,

active and passive. Lowth has, in this instance, not only violated

the simplicity of our language, but has also advanced an opinion

inconsistent with his own principles. For, if he has justly excluded

from the number of cases in nouns, and moods in verbs, those which

are not formed by inflexion, but by the addition of prepositions and

auxiliary verbs, there is equal reason for rejecting a passive voice,

if it be not formed by variety of termination. Were I to ask him why

he denies _from a king_ to be an ablative case, or _I may love_ to be

the potential mood, he would answer, and very truly, that those only

can be justly regarded as cases or moods which, by a different form

of the noun or verb, express a different relation or a different mode

of existence. If this answer be satisfactory, there can be no good

reason for assigning to our language a passive voice, when that voice

is formed, not by inflexion, but by an auxiliary verb. _Doceor_ is

truly a passive voice; but _I am taught_ cannot, without impropriety,

be considered as such. Besides, as it is justly observed by Dr. Ash,

our author, when he parses the clause, “I am well pleased,” tells

us that _am_ is the indicative mood, present tense of the verb _to

be_; and _pleased_, the passive participle of the verb to _please_.

Now, in parsing, every word should be considered as a distinct part

of speech: whether, therefore, we admit _pleased_ to be a passive

participle or not, (for this point I shall afterwards examine,) it

is obvious that on the principle now laid down, and acknowledged

by Dr. Lowth, _am pleased_ is not a present passive, nor has the

author himself parsed it in this manner. Into such inconsistencies do

our grammarians run, from a propensity to force the grammar of our

language into a conformity with the structure of Greek and Latin.

The same reasoning will also account for my assigning to English

verbs no more than two tenses and one mood. For, if we consider the

matter, not metaphysically, but grammatically, and regard those only

as moods which are diversified by inflexion, (and, as Lowth himself

observes, as far as grammar is concerned, there can be no others,) we

find that our language has only one mood and two tenses.

This doctrine, in respect to the cases, is very generally admitted.

For though the Greeks and Romans expressed the different relations

by variety of inflexion, which they termed cases, it does not follow

that we are to acknowledge the same number of cases as they had,

when these relations are expressed in English, not by inflexions,

but by prepositions or words significant of these relations. The

Latins would not have acknowledged _absque fructu_, without fruit,

as forming a seventh case, though they acknowledged _fructu_, by

fruit, as making an ablative or sixth case. And why? because the

latter only was formed by inflexion. For this reason, I consider

giving the name of dative case to the combination of words _to a

king_, or of ablative case to the expression _from a king_, to be a

palpable impropriety. Our language knows no such cases; nor would an

Englishman, unacquainted with Greek or Latin, ever dream of these

cases, though perfectly master of his own language.

In the same manner it may be asked, what could lead him to

distinguish a diversity of moods, or a plurality of voices, where

there is no variety of termination to discriminate them? The

distinction of circumstances, respecting the modes of existence, he

expresses by words significant of these accidents; but he would no

more dream of giving these forms of expression the name of moods,

than he would be disposed to call _from a king_ by the name of _casus

ablativus_, or _permit me to go_ the first person singular of the

imperative mood. If, indeed, he were somewhat acquainted with Latin,

he might, in the true spirit of modern grammarians, contend that _let

me go_, or _permit me to go_, is truly the first person singular of

the imperative mood; assigning as a reason for this assertion, that

such is the designation of _eam_ in Latin. With the most correct

knowledge, however, of his own language only, he could never be

seduced into this absurdity. A little reflection indeed might teach

him, that even _eam_ in Latin is an elliptical expression for _sine

ut eam_, the word _eam_ itself denoting neither entreaty nor command.

In truth, we may as reasonably contend that our language has all

the tenses which are to be found in Greek and Latin, because, by

the aid of auxiliaries and definitives, we contrive to express

what they denoted by one word, as to contend that we have a

potential, an optative or imperative mood, or a passive voice;

because by auxiliaries or variety of arrangement we can express the

circumstances of power, liberty, duty, passion, &c. No grammarian

has yet gone so far as to affirm that we have in English a _paulo

post future_, because our language, by definitives or auxiliaries,

is capable of expressing that time. Or, what should we think of

that person’s discernment, who should contend that the Latins had

an optative mood, because _utinam legeres_ signifies “I wish you

would read”? It is equally absurd to say that we have an imperfect,

preterpluperfect, or future tenses; or that we have all the Greek

varieties of mood, and two voices, because by the aid of auxiliary

words and definite terms we contrive to express these accidents,

times, or states of being. I consider, therefore, that we have no

more cases, moods, tenses, or voices in our language, as far as its

grammar, not its capacity of expression, is concerned, than we have

variety of termination to denote these different accessary ideas.

As the terminations of most verbs in languages are varied by tense

and mood, so are they also varied according as the subject is of

the first, second, or third person. Thus, in the only two tenses

that we have in English, namely, the present and the preterperfect

tenses, the second person singular of each is formed from the first,

by adding _st_ or _est_, as, _I love, thou lovest_; _I loved, thou

lovedst_; and the third person singular of the present is formed by

adding _s_, or the syllable _eth_ or _th_, to the first as, _love,

loves_, or _loveth_; _read, reads_, or _readeth_. These are the only

variations which our verbs admit, in concordance with the person of

the nominative singular. The three persons plural are always the same

with the first person singular.

Before I proceed to the conjugation of verbs in general, I shall

first explain the manner in which the auxiliaries are conjugated.

Of these the most extensively useful is the verb _to be_, denoting

simple affirmation, or expressing existence. The next is that which

signifies action, namely, the verb _to do_. The third is the verb _to

have_, implying possession. The others are, _shall_, _will_, _may_,

_can_, &c. I begin with the verb _to be_.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present Tense._

_Sing._[46] I am Thou art He, she, or it is

_Plur._ We are Ye or you are They are.

_Preterite._

_Sing._ I was Thou wast[47] He was

_Plur._ We were Ye or you were They were.

_Imperfect Conditional._

_Sing._ I were Thou wert He were

_Plur._ We were Ye or you were They were.

_Infinitive._

To be.

It may seem inconsistent with the opinion which I have delivered

concerning moods, to assign an infinitive to this verb; and the

existence of this infinitive may appear, perhaps, a sufficient

refutation of that opinion. I shall, therefore, briefly repeat what

I have said, and offer a few additional observations.

I have remarked that the first care of men, in a rude and infant

state, would be to assign names to surrounding objects; and that the

noun, in the natural order of things, must have been the first part

of speech. Their inventive powers would next be employed to express

the most common energies or states of being, such as are denoted by

the verbs _to do_, _to be_, _to suffer_. Hence, by the help of these

combined with a noun, they might express the energy or state of that

thing, of which the noun was the name. Thus, I shall suppose that

they assigned the word _plant_, as the name of a vegetable set in the

ground. To express the act of setting it, they would say, _do plant_,

that is, _act plant_. The letters _d_ and _t_ being nearly allied, it

is easy to conceive how the word _do_, by a variation very natural

and common to all languages, might be changed into _to_; and thus the

word _to_ prefixed to a noun would express the correspondent energy

or action.

In what light, then, are we to consider the phrase _to plant_, termed

an infinitive, or to what class of words is it reducible? Previously

to my answering this question, it is necessary to remind the reader,

that a verb joined to a noun forms a sentence; that affirmation is

essential to the character of a verb; and that, for this reason,

and this only, it has been pre-eminently distinguished by the

name of verb, or the word. Destroy this characteristic, and it is

immediately confounded with the adjective, or the participle. It is

its power of predication only, which constitutes it a distinct part

of speech, and discriminates it from every other. _Vir sapit_, and

_vir est sapiens_, are equivalent expressions. Cancel the assertion,

and the verb is lost. The expression becomes _vir sapiens_, “a wise

man.” This opinion, I am persuaded, requires only to be examined to

be universally adopted. If this be the case, the infinitive which

affirms nothing, cannot, without impropriety, be deemed a verb. It

expresses merely an action, passion, or state abstractedly. Hence

many grammarians have justly considered it as no part of the verb;

and, in the languages of Greece and Rome, the infinitive was employed

like a common substantive, having frequently an adjective joined with

it, and subject to the government of verbs and prepositions. This

opinion has been lately controverted by a writer of considerable

eminence as a Latin scholar. But, after examining the matter with

attention, I take upon me to affirm, that not a single example can be

produced wherein the infinitive, as used by the Greeks and Romans,

might not be supplied by the substitution of a noun. Wherefore,

admitting the established principle, _voces valent significatione_,

there cannot exist a doubt that the infinitive, which may in all

cases be supplied by a noun, has itself the real character of a

noun. And, if the essence of a verb consist in predication, and not,

as some think, in implying time in conjunction with an attribute,

which is the characteristic of a participle, then the infinitive,

as it can predicate nothing, and joined to a substantive makes no

sentence, cannot therefore be deemed a verb. When I say, _legere est

facile_, “to read is easy,” it is obvious that there is only one

sentence in each of these expressions. But if _legere_ (to read)

were a verb as well as _est_ (is), then there would be two verbs and

also two affirmations, for affirmation is inseparable from a verb.

I remark also, that the verbal noun _lectio_ (reading) substituted

for _legere_ (to read) would precisely express the same sentiment.

For these reasons I concur decidedly with those grammarians who are

so far from considering the infinitive as a distinct mood, that they

entirely exclude it from the appellation of verb[48].

It may be asked, what then is it to be called? In answer to this

query, I observe, that it matters little what designation be assigned

to it, provided its character and office be fully understood. The

ancient Latin grammarians, as Priscian informs us, termed it properly

enough, _nomen verbi_, “the noun or name of the verb.” To proscribe

terms, which have been long familiar to us, and, by immemorial

possession, have gained an establishment, is always a difficult, and

frequently an ungracious task. I shall therefore retain its usual

name, having sufficiently guarded the reader against a misconception

of its character.

Now, in our language, the infinitive has not even the distinction

arising from termination, to entitle it to be ranked in the number

of moods; its form being the same with that of the present tense,

and probably, both in its termination and its prefix, originally

identical. For, if the doctrine just proposed be correct, the word

_do_ was put before each. To this rule the English language furnishes

only one exception, namely, the verb of existence, in which the

present indicative is _am_, whereas the infinitive is _to be_. This,

however, can scarcely be deemed an exception, when it is considered,

that the present indicative of this verb was originally _be_ as

well as _am_; though the former be now in a state of obsolescence,

or rather entirely obsolete. At the same time, as this is the only

verb in which the infinitive differs in form from the present of the

indicative, I have judged it necessary to note the exception, and

assign the infinitive.

_Present part._ Being

_Past part._ Been[49].

TO DO.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present._

_Sing._ I do Thou doest or dost He doeth, doth or does

_Plur._ We do Ye or you do They do.

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I did Thou didst He, she, or it did[50]

_Plur._ We did Ye or you did They did.

_Participles._

_Present_ Doing

_Past_ Done.

TO HAVE.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present._

_Sing._ I have Thou hast He hath or has

_Plur._ We have Ye or you have They have.

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I had Thou hadst He had

_Plur._ We had Ye or you had They had.

_Participles._

_Present_ Having

_Past_ Had.

Liberty is expressed by the verb

MAY.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present._

_Sing._ I may Thou mayest He may

_Plur._ We may Ye or you may They may[51].

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I might Thou mightest He might

_Plur._ We might Ye or you might They might.

Power or ability is expressed by

CAN.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present._

_Sing._ I can Thou canst He can

_Plur._ We can Ye or you can They can[52].

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I could Thou couldst He could

_Plur._ We could Ye or you could They could.

Futurition and duty are expressed by the verb _shall_, but not each

in the three persons.

_Indicative Mood._

_Present._

_Sing._[53] I shall Thou shalt He shall

_Plur._ We shall Ye or you shall They shall.

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I should Thou shouldst He should

_Plur._ We should Ye or you should They should.

Volition and futurity are expressed by the verb _to will_.

_Present._

_Sing._ I will Thou wilt He will

_Plur._ We will Ye or you will They will[54].

_Preterperfect._

_Sing._ I would Thou wouldst He would

_Plur._ We would Ye or you would They would.

Priestley and Lowth, who have in this been followed by most other

grammarians, call the tenses _may_, _can_, _shall_, _will_, absolute

tenses; _might_, _could_, _should_, _would_, conditional. That

_might_, _could_, _should_, _would_, frequently imply conditionality,

there can be no question; but I am persuaded that the proper

character of these tenses is unconditional affirmation, and for these

two reasons:

1st. Their formation seems to indicate that they are preterites

indicative, proceeding from their respective presents, in the same

manner as _did_ from _do_, _had_ from _have_, and having therefore

the same unconditional meaning. Thus, _I may_, is equivalent to “I am

at liberty;” _I might_, to “I was at liberty;” _I can_, means “I am

able;” _I could_, “I was able;” _I will_, “I am willing;” _I would_,

“I was willing.”

2dly. They are used to express unconditional meaning. If we say,

“This might prove fatal to your interest,” the assertion of the

possibility of the event is as unconditional as absolute, as, “This

may prove fatal to your interest.” “This, if you do it, _will_ ruin

your cause,” is precisely equivalent to, “This, were you to do

it, _would_ ruin your cause;” equivalent as far, at least, as the

unconditional affirmation of the consequence of a supposed action is

involved[55]. “I may write, if I choose,” is not more absolute than

“I might write, if I chose.” If I say, “I might have gone to the

Continent,” the expression is as unconditional as, “I had it in my

power,” “I was at liberty to go to the Continent.” “Can you construe

Lycophron?” “I cannot now; but once _I could_.” “May you do as you

please?” “Not now; but once I _might_.” Is there any conditionality

implied in the latter clause of each of these answers? Not the least.

They are unconditionally assertive. The formation of these tenses,

therefore, being analogous to that of preterites indicative, and

their import in these examples, as in many others which might be

adduced, being unconditional and absolute, I am inclined to consider

them as preterites indicative, agreeably to their form, and as

properly unconditional in respect to signification.

I observe, however, that though _might_, _could_, _would_, _should_,

are preterite tenses, they are frequently employed to denote present

time[56]; but in such examples care must be taken that congruity of

tense be preserved, and that the subsequent be expressed in the same

tense with the antecedent verb. Thus I say, “I may go if I choose,”

where the liberty and inclination are each expressed as present; or,

“I might go if I chose,” where, though present time be implied, the

liberty is expressed by the preterite, and the inclination is denoted

by the same tense.

Before I proceed to show how these auxiliary verbs are joined with

others, to express the intended accessary ideas, I shall offer a few

observations on the participle.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE PARTICIPLE.

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.

_Indicative Present._ _Preter._ _Part. Perf._

Write Wrote Written.

_Present Tense._

_S._ I write Thou writest He writes or writeth

_P._ We write Ye or you write They write.

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._

“This day begins the woe, others must end.”--_Shakspeare._

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.”

“Through tatter’d clothes small vices do appear;

Robes and furred gowns hide all.”--_Shakspeare._

_Preterperfect._

_S._ I wrote Thou wrotest He wrote

_P._ We wrote Ye or you wrote They wrote.

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.

_Present Progressive, or continued._

_S._ I am writing Thou art writing He is writing

_P._ We are writing You are writing They are writing.

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.

_Present Emphatic._

_S._ I do write Thou dost write He doth or does write

_P._ We do write Ye or you do write They do write.

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.

_Preterite, Indefinite, and Emphatic._

_S._ I did write Thou didst write He did write

_P._ We did write You did write They did write.

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.

_Preter. Imp. &c. continued._

_S._ I was writing Thou wast writing He was writing

_P._ We were writing Ye were writing They were writing.

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.”

_Preterperfect._

_S._ I have Thou hast He has } written.

_P._ We have You have They have }

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.”

_Preter Imperfect._

_Sing._ I have been Thou hast been He has been } writing.

_Plur._ We have been You have been They have been }

This tense, in respect to time, is the same as the last, but implies

the imperfection of the action, and denotes its progression.

_Preter Pluperfect._

_Sing._ I had Thou hadst He had } written.

_Plur._ We had Ye or you had They had }

This tense denotes that an action was perfected before another action

was done.

_Plusquam Preterite Imperfect._

_Sing._ I had been Thou hadst been He had been } writing.

_Plur._ We had been Ye had been They had been }

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.”

_Future Indefinite._

_Sing._ I shall Thou shalt He shall } write.

_Plur._ We shall Ye or you shall They shall }

OR

_Sing._ I will Thou wilt He will } write.

_Plur._ We will Ye or you will They will }

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.

_Future Imp. Progressive._

I shall or will be We shall or will be }

Thou shalt or wilt be Ye shall or will be } writing.

He shall or will be They shall or will be }

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.

_Future Perfect._

I shall have We shall have }

Thou shalt have Ye shall have } written.

He shall have They shall have }

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,

“Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth,

Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep;”

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 Present_ I write

_The Preterite_ I wrote

_The Future_ I shall write.

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.

_Its progress._ _Its perfection_, as

I am writing I have written

I was writing I had written

I shall be writing I shall have written.

_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,

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go,”

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,

_First class._ _Second._ _Third._

I write I am writing I have written

I wrote I was writing I had written

I shall write I shall be writing I shall have written.

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,

Write thou Write ye

or or

Do thou write Do ye write:

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,

I must Thou must He must } write[66].

We must Ye must They must }

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,

I must have Thou must have, &c. } written.

We must have Ye must have, &c. }

_Present Liberty._

I may Thou mayest He may } write.

We may Ye may They may }

_Past Liberty._

I might Thou mightest He might } write.

We might Ye might They might }

_Or_,

I might have Thou mightest have, &c. } written.

We might have Ye might have, &c. }

_Present Ability._

I can Thou canst He can } write.

We can Ye can They can }

_Past Ability._

I could Thou couldst He could } write.

We could Ye could They could }

_Or_,

I could have Thou couldst have, &c. } written.

We could have Ye could have, &c. }

_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.

_Present Duty or Obligation._

I ought Thou oughtest He ought } to write.

We ought Ye ought They ought }

_Past Duty._

I ought Thou oughtest He ought } to have

We ought Ye ought They ought } written.

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,

I am Thou art He is } written to.

We are Ye are They are }

_Preterite._