I. The editor of the old school, who worked his way up from the case, and who in early days handled his stick and galley far more correctly than he now does his pen, still regards with aversion the college-bred aspirant for newspaper honors. II. The college-bred aspirant for newspaper honors is still regarded with aversion by the editor of the old school, who worked his way up from the case and who handled his stick and galley in his early days far more correctly than he now does his pen. Long as the last sentence is, the periodic form conveys the meaning more easily than the loose one, partly because it substitutes an active for a passive verb1 and a direct for an indirect way of putting things, and partly because it puts the important words in a prominent position. ― Advantages of the Loose Sentence. For sentences in which the periodic form would sound affected or declamatory, the loose form is better. 2 Quoted from De Quincey by WILLIAM MINTO: A Manual of English Prose Literature. Edinburgh: Blackwood & Sons, 1872. In each of these examples, short as they are, the loose sentence is preferable to the periodic for the simple reason that it follows the natural English order, the order in which the words would naturally come to an Englishspeaking person who was thinking more about what he wanted to say than about forms of expression. Other examples are I. Religion is now under baleful Atheisms, Mammonisms, JoeManton Dilettanteisms, with their appropriate Cants and Idolisms. I am thought an unmannerly boor because I leave these calls unmade. Those were gone whose faith or whose fanaticism led them to believe themselves soldiers of the Almighty, and who in that dread enlistment feared nothing but to be found unworthy of their calling. The true principles of contract appear to us to forbid allowing an action to a third party, from whom no consideration moves, and who is in no way privy to the agreement. Our house is shut in on two sides by a tangled forest, from the coverts of which the quail's note is often heard, and it looks across a level marsh of evervarying green to the blue waters of the bay beyond. 1 See page 222. II. Under baleful Atheisms, Mammonisms, Joe-Manton Dilettanteisms, with their appropriate Cants and Idolisms — religion now is. Because I leave these calls unmade, I am thought an unmannerly boor. Those whose faith or whose fanaticism led them to believe themselves soldiers of the Almighty, and who in that dread enlistment feared nothing but to be found unworthy of their calling, they were gone.1 The true principles of contract appear to us to forbid the allowing a third party, from whom no consideration moves and who is in no way privy to the agreement, an action.2 Flanked on both sides by tangled forests, from whose coverts the quail's note is often heard and looking across a level marsh, of ever-varying green, to the blue waters of the Bay beyond, stands our house. 2 See page 205. These examples are enough to show that the sweeping advice sometimes given to young writers that they should strive to make their sentences periodic may mislead. Other things being equal, it is better so to frame a sentence that the reader shall not think he has finished it till he reaches the end; but other things are not equal if the reader's attention is called from the thought to the peculiarity of the language, or if he has difficulty in following the thought. As between a PERIODIC and a LOOSE form of SENTENCE, that should be chosen which conveys the meaning with least trouble to the reader. Chapter III. PRINCIPLES OF CHOICE So far as sentences considered by themselves are concerned, no one kind is, as a rule, better than another. In a given case, a good writer will prefer that kind which most closely fits his thought, and is best adapted to his purpose. In a succession of sentences, a different principle comes in, the principle of variety. To fill a page with sentences that are of about the same length, or that are fashioned after the same pattern, is a serious error. The best form of writing, if persisted in too long, becomes monotonous; and monotony gradually dulls attention, and in course of time kills interest. The most brilliant style, as every reader of Gibbon or of Junius knows, loses its effect when the brilliancy becomes a steady glare. To good writing, as to a good picture, shade is as important as light. Variety is the spice of life, and the life of style. |