Take another example. Here is a steel needle. I hold it before you. You say, "if I let go of it, it will fall," and you say correctly, for it has such a tendency. But suppose a magnet, as great as that which is said to have drawn the iron coffin of Mohammed to the roof of the temple at Mecca, should be placed in the room above us. The needle, instead of falling to the floor, would be drawn in the nearest direction to that magnet. The will or tendency of the needle, as generally understood, would be overcome, the natural law of gravitation would lose its influence, by the counteracting power of the loadstone.
I say, "I will go home in an hour." But does that expression indicate the act of going? It is placed in the indicative mood in our grammars; and go is the principal, and will the auxiliary verb. May be I shall fall and die before I reach my home. But the expression is correct; will is present, go future. I will, I now resolve, am now inclined to go home.
You see the correctness of our position, that we can not positively assert a future active in the indicative mood. Try and form to yourselves a phrase by which it can be done. Should you succeed, you would violate a law of nature. You would penetrate the dark curtain of the future, and claim to yourself what you do not possess, a power to declare future actions. Prophets, by the help of the Almighty, had this power conferred upon them. But in the revelation of the sublime truths they were instructed to make known, they were compelled to adopt human language, and make it agree with our manner of speech.
The only method by which we express a future event, is to make an assertion in the indicative mood, present tense, and to that append the natural consequence in the infinitive or unlimited; as, I am to go to Boston. He is preparing to visit New-York. The infinitive mood is always future to the circumstance on which it depends.
Mr. Murray says, that "tense, being the distinction of time, might seem to admit of only the present, past, and future; but to mark it more accurately, it is made to consist of six variations, viz.: the present, imperfect, perfect, pluperfect, first and second future tenses." This more accurate mark, only serves to expose the author's folly, and distract the learner's mind. Before, all was plain. The past, present, and future are distinct, natural divisions, easily understood by all. But what idea can a person form of an imperfect tense in action. If there was ever such an action in the world, it was when grammarians made their grammars, which is, if I mistake not, according to their own authority, in the im-perfect tense! I wrote a letter. He read his piece well. The scholar learned and recited his lesson perfectly; and yet learned, tho made perfect by the qualification of an adverb, is an imperfect action!
But this explains the whole mystery in the business of grammar. We can here discover the cause of all the troubles and difficulties we have encountered in the whole affair. When authors made their books, they did it imperfectly; when teachers taught them, it was imperfectly; and when scholars learned them, it was imperfectly!! So at last, we have found the origin of this whole difficulty, in the grammars themselves; it was all imperfectly done.
But here, again, mirabile dictu! wonderful to tell, we are presented with a plu-perfect tense; that is,—plus means more,—a more than perfect tense! What must that be? If a thing is perfect, we can not easily conceive any thing beyond. That is a ne plus ultra to all advancement—there can be no more beyond. If any change is introduced, it must be by falling from perfect back to imperfect.
I have said, "many of the distinctions in the grammar books have proved mischievous; that they are as false as frivolous;" and this is said perfectly, in the perfect tense. If I should say, "they had been of some benefit," that would be more than perfect—plu-perfect. But when I say, "they exhibited great depth of research, and conveyed some light on the subject of which they treated," it would all be im-perfect.
Next, we are presented with a second future tense, which attempts a division of time unbounded and unknown. In the greek, they have what is called a "paulo post future," which in plain english, means a "little after the future;" that is, I suppose, when futurity has come to an end, this tense will commence! At that time we may expect to meet a "præter plus quam perfectum"—a more than perfect tense! But till that period shall arrive, we see little need of making such false and unphilosophic distinctions.
A teacher once told me that he explained the distinctions of time to his scholars from the clock dial which stood in the school room. Suppose twelve o'clock represents the present tense; nine would signify the perfect; any thing between nine and twelve would be imperfect; any thing beyond, pluperfect. On the other hand, any act, forward of twelve, would be future; and at three the second future would commence. I remarked that I thought this a wonderful improvement, especially to those who were able to have clocks by which to teach grammar, but that I could not discover why he did not have three future, as well as three past tenses. Why, he said, there were no such tenses marked in the books, and hence there was no occasion to explain them. I asked him why he did not have a tense for every hour, and so he could distinguish with Mr. Webster, twelve tenses, without any trouble whatever; and, by going three times round the dial, he could easily prove the correctness of Dr. Beattie's division; for he says, in his grammar, there are thirty-six tenses, and thinks there can not be less without "introducing confusion in the grammatical art." But he thought such a course would serve rather to perplex than enlighten; and so thought I. But he was the teacher of a popular school in the city of ——, and had published a duodecimo grammar of over 300 pages, entitled "Murray's Grammar, improved, by ——." I will not give his name; it would be libellous!