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<wordnerd> |
The text: These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to tax) but "to bind us in all cases whatsoever" and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God. Whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much better. We did not make a proper use of last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. However, the fault, if it were one, was all our own; we have none to blame but ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet. All that Howe has been doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the spirit of the Jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will soon recover. I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that He has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence as he. By perseverance and fortitude we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission, the sad choice of a variety of evils -- a ravaged country -- a depopulated city -- habitations without safety, and slavery without hope -- our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians, and a future race to provide for, whose fathers we shall doubt of. Look on this picture and weep over it! and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented. | ||
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I agree. Sentences do seem to be shorter these days. Most popular newspapers seem to aim their writing at a reading age of about 13-14 and lower reading ages seem to demand shorter sentences. A similar thing seems to be happening with other communications - TV programmes, for example are often less than the 30 minutes that was once common. Richard English | |||
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As an editor, I've found that many otherwise educated people seem to believe or fear that a longer sentence with more than one or two clauses--dependent or independent; it doesn't matter--is automatically a run-on sentence. In every comma, they see a comma splice--or more likely, in every semicolon. Back in the old days, Paine's readers probably had learned their rules of punctuation better than the average Joe today, so as to be able to distinguish between a properly punctuated, lengthy sentence, and one that was a run-on sentence. Then too, it's a matter of prevailing style. Back in that day, I don't think it was considered as arrogant and pompous to let a sentence go on and on like that. Nowadays it's seen as more elegant to make written language less flowery and decorous and more streamlined and focused. Wordmatic | |||
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P.S. Wordnerd, I can't believe that you sat there and counted all of the words in the sentences of the Paine piece! | |||
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This is a great question. I would see sentence length as a mirror of cultural development, particularly with respect to the tidal changes between 19th & 20th centuries-- the end of empires, the rise of industrialization, etc etc. Stylistically, the sentence-length comparison between, say, Henry James and Ernest Hemingway compares nicely to the neo-classicism of Jacques-Louis David and the French Impressionists. I believe at base we are contrasting intellect with intuition. Certainly the transition from classical to jazz expresses the same pattern. The long sentences illustrate a step-by-step thought process designed to persuade by sheer logic. Short sentences (in literature) encourage one to take in a great many seemingly unrelated details at once and form an overall impression. Often, in modern literature, there is a similar logic at work, i.e. a series of overall impressions are designed to lead the reader to an epiphany of sorts. The key difference is that the reader is invited to get involved & fill in the blanks-- the author's presence is not overbearing/ omnicient. It's interesting to consider why literature has taken this tack. Part of it might just be the modern quality of daily life-- more of a jumble of people, machines, noise, as opposed to what I imagine as the idyllic silence of agrarian days. | |||
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<wordnerd> |
re wordmatic's PS: Laughing here. God help me, if I'd had to count I wouldn't have done it! I just cut-and-pasted the text into my wordprocessor, and let its word-count feature (ALT-T, W) do the counting. Love your first name, by the way. | ||
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Richard Loeb's life sentence ended when he was killed in 1936 by a fellow prison inmate who was reacting to Richard's sexual advances. Time Magazine once referred to this as a "famous case of using a proposition to end a sentence with." | |||
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Bulwer-Lytton's style, sample: It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness, is laughed at today but it was not unusual at the time. Tastes and fashions change, in literature as in so many other areas. Build a man a fire and he's warm for a day. Set a man on fire and he's warm for the rest of his life. | |||
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I love that sentence, but then I do love old stuff. As a PS, the 'dark and stormy night' sentence reminded me of Joyce Carol Oates (who of course can write in any style at all & has)... Paragraph-length and even page-length sentences can be found in a number of her books. In certain contexts (such as the novel Bellefleur), she is emulating 19th-c. style. But in her modern novels, the lengthy sentences nearly always reflect a disturbed state of mind, either surreal, or obsessive. Perhaps that is how such great long sentences strike us today, since normal daily life provides us with neither the leisure nore the silence to carry a thought to such lengths! | |||
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Bethree, what a great historical analysis! I wonder if we are missing one key point, though...our marvelous style manuals. Here, for example, is what AskOxford says about length of sentences. I suspect the Chicago Manual of Style and my most unfavorite, Strunk and White, all say the same thing about "good writing." This then, of course, gets translated to English teachers and writing courses and soon that's how people are writing. Now this of course doesn't answer why the style manuals push short sentences, and that may be related to Bethree's analysis. My analysis is really more about how this message gets disseminated to writers. And, of course, there are those writers who don't strictly follow the style manual instructions (such as I...by starting this sentence with a conjunction; Strunk and White would say, "Horrors!"). | |||
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And that is one reason why I don't much care for their recommendations. Richard English | |||
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I do think that the use of shorter sentences is an improvement. It makes the writing accessible to a wider readership. In the 18th and 19th centuries reading was mainly an occupation of the upper and middle classes who had the leisure to unravel the long and convoluted sentences used. With the growth of literacy in the 20th century a far wider readership became available, many of whom did not have the time or inclination, possibly even the intelligence, to make sense of such a prose style. The purpose of writing is communication and I believe shorter sentences aid in that communication by helping to ensure that the writing is properly understood by as many people as possible. That's not to say that there's not a proper time and place for longer sentences, however. Build a man a fire and he's warm for a day. Set a man on fire and he's warm for the rest of his life. | |||
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No question our children are taught elements of style as though they were mathematical rules. Mine have been fortunate enough to have teachers who prize originality as well. Teaching is an art as we know and alas, many primary/ secondary teachers are little more than bureaucrats promulgating others' ideas as though cast in concrete. The 'Ask Oxford' advice seems below par to me. After arbitrarily declaring a maximum "number of words per sentence", they illustrate only that a long sentence without subordinate clauses is a mishmosh. The point about pausing between points is excellent. However, IMO the 18th-c. quote wordnerd used up top of this thread is clear as a bell because it follows that advice. There are several structural ways to pause between thoughts. | |||
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I like this angle, Arnie! It reminds us that back in 1776, Thomas Paine was trying to reach everyone, including the probably-illiterate majority. I'll bet his work was read aloud on street corners and in secret gatherings of rebellious colonists. Although his sentences may seem long to a reader, his writing style seems designed to be declaimed by an orator. Sentences are separated into short clauses, and often repeat the same thought successively in different words. (Example: First para., "Tyranny.. freedom should not be highly rated." Paine's simplicity of style was hard to find in literature by the late 19th century. Many literary writers seem to me to have been engaging in a sort of conceit or word-game, entertainment for the highly educated (read wealthy and idle!) Small wonder at the huge stylistic change between 1890 and 1925. As you point out, the spread of literacy to all classes was part and parcel of the historical changes taking place. | |||
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I like your point, too, Arnie. It's surely a lot more cogent than AskOxford's advice about length: "Over the whole document, make average sentence length 15 to 20 words. Muddle is more likely in a long sentence unless the construction is simple and well-organized. Learning to cut repetition and verbiage, using lists and headings properly, and shortening sentences can make the world of difference to your writing." I agree, Bethree, that the advice is subpar. | |||
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Well, if one thinks about it, who was the intended audience of the Declaration of Independence? (George III and his ministers.) Did they understand it? (A war was fought because of this document.) —Ceci n'est pas un seing. | |||
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