Reading this post, my immediate hunch is that the decline in sentence lengths has a lot to do with the historical role of Latin grammar and how deeply it influenced educated English writers. Latin inherently facilitates longer, complex sentences due to its use of grammatical inflections, declensions, and verb conjugations, significantly reducing reliance on prepositions and conjunctions. This syntactic flexibility allowed authors to naturally craft extensive yet smooth-flowing sentences. Latin’s liberating lack of fixed word order and its fun little rhetorical devices combine to support nuanced, flexible thinking. From my own experience studying Latin 7th-12th grade, I find this sort of stuff contributes significantly to freer, more expansive expression when writing or speaking in English, and I often can immediately tell when speaking with or reading something written by someone else who studied Latin. An easy “tell” is when they say “having done x.”
Educated English writers historically learned Latin as a foundational part of their education, internalizing this syntactic complexity. As a result, English prose from authors like Chaucer, Samuel Johnson, and Henry James shows a clear preference for hypotaxis, complex sentences with nested subordinate clauses, rather than simpler paratactic structures consisting of shorter, sequential clauses.
The practical advantage of these complex sentence structures is the precise communication of nuanced and sophisticated ideas. Longer sentences enabled authors to maintain coherent, detailed arguments and descriptions within a single cohesive thought. I see this as reflecting “transcription fluency,” where authors aim for fidelity in translating their complex internal thought processes directly into prose, trusting readers’ intelligence and attention span to engage deeply.
Here’s a fun example from Thoreau’s “Walden,” which makes it clear that such elaborate writing was intended to be understood even by poorer and less formally educated readers. Consider the following (just) two sentences:
“I have no doubt that some of you who read this book are unable to pay for all the dinners which you have actually eaten, or for the coats and shoes which are fast wearing or are already worn out, and have come to this page to spend borrowed or stolen time, robbing your creditors of an hour. It is very evident what mean and sneaking lives many of you live, for my sight has been whetted by experience; always on the limits, trying to get into business and trying to get out of debt, a very ancient slough, called by the Latins æs alienum, another’s brass, for some of their coins were made of brass; still living, and dying, and buried by this other’s brass; always promising to pay, promising to pay, tomorrow, and dying today, insolvent; seeking to curry favor, to get custom, by how many modes, only not state-prison offences; lying, flattering, voting, contracting yourselves into a nutshell of civility or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity, that you may persuade your neighbor to let you make his shoes, or his hat, or his coat, or his carriage, or import his groceries for him; making yourselves sick, that you may lay up something against a sick day, something to be tucked away in an old chest, or in a stocking behind the plastering, or, more safely, in the brick bank; no matter where, no matter how much or how little.
Having studied Latin, or other such classical training, seems to be but one method of imbuing oneself with the the style of writing longer, more complicated sentences. Personally I acquired the taste for such eccentricities perusing sundry works from earlier times. Romances, novels and other such frivolities from, or set in, the 18-th century being the main culprits.
I suppose this sort of proves your point, in that those authors learnt to create complicated sentences from learning Latin, and the later writers copied the style, thinking either that it’s fun, correct, or wanting to seem more authentic.
Reading this post, my immediate hunch is that the decline in sentence lengths has a lot to do with the historical role of Latin grammar and how deeply it influenced educated English writers. Latin inherently facilitates longer, complex sentences due to its use of grammatical inflections, declensions, and verb conjugations, significantly reducing reliance on prepositions and conjunctions. This syntactic flexibility allowed authors to naturally craft extensive yet smooth-flowing sentences. Latin’s liberating lack of fixed word order and its fun little rhetorical devices combine to support nuanced, flexible thinking. From my own experience studying Latin 7th-12th grade, I find this sort of stuff contributes significantly to freer, more expansive expression when writing or speaking in English, and I often can immediately tell when speaking with or reading something written by someone else who studied Latin. An easy “tell” is when they say “having done x.”
Educated English writers historically learned Latin as a foundational part of their education, internalizing this syntactic complexity. As a result, English prose from authors like Chaucer, Samuel Johnson, and Henry James shows a clear preference for hypotaxis, complex sentences with nested subordinate clauses, rather than simpler paratactic structures consisting of shorter, sequential clauses.
The practical advantage of these complex sentence structures is the precise communication of nuanced and sophisticated ideas. Longer sentences enabled authors to maintain coherent, detailed arguments and descriptions within a single cohesive thought. I see this as reflecting “transcription fluency,” where authors aim for fidelity in translating their complex internal thought processes directly into prose, trusting readers’ intelligence and attention span to engage deeply.
Here’s a fun example from Thoreau’s “Walden,” which makes it clear that such elaborate writing was intended to be understood even by poorer and less formally educated readers. Consider the following (just) two sentences:
Having studied Latin, or other such classical training, seems to be but one method of imbuing oneself with the the style of writing longer, more complicated sentences. Personally I acquired the taste for such eccentricities perusing sundry works from earlier times. Romances, novels and other such frivolities from, or set in, the 18-th century being the main culprits.
I suppose this sort of proves your point, in that those authors learnt to create complicated sentences from learning Latin, and the later writers copied the style, thinking either that it’s fun, correct, or wanting to seem more authentic.
Cool point, yes, seems right!