r one after the other
for convenient deliberation, so that every one of them may receive
undivided attention. The German, on the other hand, weaves them
together into a sentence which he twists and crosses, and crosses and
twists again; because he wants to say six things all at once, instead
of advancing them one by one. His aim should be to attract and hold
the reader's attention; but, above and beyond neglect of this aim, he
demands from the reader that he shall set the above mentioned rule at
defiance, and think three or four different thoughts at one and the
same time; or since that is impossible, that his thoughts shall
succeed each other as quickly as the vibrations of a cord. In this way
an author lays the foundation of his _stile empese_, which is then
carried to perfection by the use of high-flown, pompous expressions to
communicate the simplest things, and other artifices of the same kind.

In those long sentences rich in involved parenthesis, like a box of
boxes one within another, and padded out like roast geese stuffed with
apples, it is really the _memory_ that is chiefly taxed; while it is
the understanding and the judgment which should be called into play,
instead of having their activity thereby actually hindered and
weakened.[1] This kind of sentence furnishes the reader with mere
half-phrases, which he is then called upon to collect carefully and
store up in his memory, as though they were the pieces of a torn
letter, afterwards to be completed and made sense of by the other
halves to which they respectively belong. He is expected to go on
reading for a little without exercising any thought, nay, exerting
only his memory, in the hope that, when he comes to the end of the
sentence, he may see its meaning and so receive something to think
about; and he is thus given a great deal to learn by heart before
obtaining anything to understand. This is manifestly wrong and an
abuse of the reader's patience.

[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note._--This sentence in the original is
obviously meant to illustrate the fault of which it speaks. It does
so by the use of a construction very common in German, but happily
unknown in English; where, however, the fault itself exists none the
less, though in different form.]

The ordinary writer has an unmistakable preference for this
style, because it causes the reader to spend time and trouble in
understanding that which he would have understood in a moment without
it; and