Anyone who has read Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers and St. Clare’s series knows of the legendary terror French verbs struck into the hearts of British schoolchildren of a certain age. No Maiwand or Isandhlwana could have stopped the might of the British Empire, but the slightest whiff of l’imparfait subjonctif would reduce the stoutest-hearted Viceroy into a whimpering schoolboy. At least this was the impression I had of the power of French verbs over the British psyche while growing up.
The French verbal system is no doubt more complicated than the English system, but this hardly means it’s utterly chaotic. With just a little bit of memorization and a little bit of thought (and some occasional hand-waving and some rather more frequent hand-wringing) it is possible to tame the system of conjugation. One of the reasons for the infamous difficulty of the French system is that it preserves many more synthetic (single-word) forms of its verbs than English does.
The French verbal system is no doubt more complicated than the English system, but this hardly means it’s utterly chaotic. With just a little bit of memorization and a little bit of thought (and some occasional hand-waving and some rather more frequent hand-wringing) it is possible to tame the system of conjugation. One of the reasons for the infamous difficulty of the French system is that it preserves many more synthetic (single-word) forms of its verbs than English does.