King James's Kommission, and were Kalled Kolonels and
Kaptains, but who were Kolonels without regiments and

Kaptains without Kompanies.'
A moment of FV in all this world of K's! It was not the

English language, then, that was an instrument of one string,
but Macaulay that was an incomparable dauber.

It was probably from this barbaric love of repeating the same
sound, rather than from any design of clearness, that he

acquired his irritating habit of repeating words; I say the
one rather than the other, because such a trick of the ear is

deeper-seated and more original in man than any logical
consideration. Few writers, indeed, are probably conscious

of the length to which they push this melody of letters.
One, writing very diligently, and only concerned about the

meaning of his words and the rhythm of his phrases, was
struck into amazement by the eager triumph with which he

cancelled one expression to substitute another. Neither
changed the sense; both being mono-syllables, neither could

affect the scansion; and it was only by looking back on what
he had already written that the mystery was solved: the

second word contained an open A, and for nearly half a page
he had been riding that vowel to the death.

In practice, I should add, the ear is not always so exacting;
and ordinary writers, in ordinary moments, content themselves

with avoiding what is harsh, and here and there, upon a rare
occasion, buttressing a phrase, or linking two together, with

a patch of assonance or a momentaryjingle of alliteration.
To understand how constant is this preoccupation of good

writers, even where its results are least obtrusive, it is
only necessary to turn to the bad. There, indeed, you will

find cacophony supreme, the rattle of incongruous consonants
only relieved by the jaw-breaking hiatus, and whole phrases

not to be articulated by the powers of man.
CONCLUSION. - We may now brieflyenumerate the elements of

style. We have, peculiar to the prose writer, the task of
keeping his phrases large, rhythmical, and pleasing to the

ear, without ever allowing them to fall into the strictly
metrical: peculiar to the versifier, the task of combining

and contrasting his double, treble, and quadruple pattern,
feet and groups, logic and metre - harmonious in diversity:

common to both, the task of artfully combining the prime
elements of language into phrases that shall be musical in

the mouth; the task of weaving their argument into a texture
of committed phrases and of rounded periods - but this

particularly binding in the case of prose: and, again common
to both, the task of choosing apt, explicit, and

communicative words. We begin to see now what an intricate
affair is any perfect passage; how many faculties, whether of

taste or pure reason, must be held upon the stretch to make
it; and why, when it is made, it should afford us so complete

a pleasure. From the arrangement of according letters, which
is altogether arabesque and sensual, up to the architecture

of the elegant and pregnantsentence, which is a vigorous act
of the pure intellect, there is scarce a faculty in man but

has been exercised. We need not wonder, then, if perfect
sentences are rare, and perfect pages rarer.

CHAPTER II - THE MORALITY OF THE PROFESSION OF LETTERS (11)
THE profession of letters has been lately debated in the

public prints; and it has been debated, to put the matter
mildly, from a point of view that was calculated to surprise

high-minded men, and bring a general contempt on books and
reading. Some time ago, in particular, a lively, pleasant,

popular writer (12) devoted an essay, lively and pleasant
like himself, to a very encouraging view of the profession.

We may be glad that his experience is so cheering, and we may
hope that all others, who deserve it, shall be as handsomely

rewarded; but I do not think we need be at all glad to have
this question, so important to the public and ourselves,

debated solely on the ground of money. The salary in any
business under heaven is not the only, nor indeed the first,

question. That you should continue to exist is a matter for
your own consideration; but that your business should be

first honest, and second useful, are points in which honour
and morality are concerned. If the writer to whom I refer

succeeds in persuading a number of young persons to adopt
this way of life with an eye set singly on the livelihood, we

must expect them in their works to follow profit only, and we
must expect in consequence, if he will pardon me the

epithets, a slovenly, base, untrue, and empty literature. Of
that writer himself I am not speaking: he is diligent,

clean, and pleasing; we all owe him periods of entertainment,
and he has achieved an amiablepopularity which he has

adequately deserved. But the truth is, he does not, or did
not when he first embraced it, regard his profession from

this purelymercenary side. He went into it, I shall venture
to say, if not with any noble design, at least in the ardour

of a first love; and he enjoyed its practice long before he
paused to calculate the wage. The other day an author was

complimented on a piece of work, good in itself and
exceptionally good for him, and replied, in terms unworthy of

a commercial traveller that as the book was not briskly
selling he did not give a copperfarthing for its merit. It

must not be supposed that the person to whom this answer was
addressed received it as a profession of faith; he knew, on

the other hand, that it was only a whiff of irritation; just
as we know, when a respectablewriter talks of literature as

a way of life, like shoemaking, but not so useful, that he is
only debating one aspect of a question, and is still clearly

conscious of a dozen others more important in themselves and
more central to the matter in hand. But while those who

treat literature in this penny-wise and virtue-foolish spirit
are themselves truly in possession of a better light, it does

not follow that the treatment is decent or improving, whether
for themselves or others. To treat all subjects in the

highest, the most honourable, and the pluckiest spirit,
consistent with the fact, is the first duty of a writer. If

he be well paid, as I am glad to hear he is, this duty
becomes the more urgent, the neglect of it the more

disgraceful. And perhaps there is no subject on which a man
should speak so gravely as that industry, whatever it may be,

which is the occupation or delight of his life; which is his
tool to earn or serve with; and which, if it be unworthy,

stamps himself as a mere incubus of dumb and greedy bowels on
the shoulders of labouring humanity. On that subject alone

even to force the note might lean to virtue's side. It is to
be hoped that a numerous and enterprisinggeneration of

writers will follow and surpass the present one; but it would
be better if the stream were stayed, and the roll of our old,

honest English books were closed, than that esurient book-
makers should continue and debase a brave tradition, and

lower, in their own eyes, a famous race. Better that our
serene temples were deserted than filled with trafficking and

juggling priests.
There are two just reasons for the choice of any way of life:

the first is inbred taste in the chooser; the second some
high utility in the industry selected. Literature, like any

other art, is singularly interesting to the artist; and, in a
degree peculiar to itself among the arts, it is useful to

mankind. These are the sufficient justifications for any
young man or woman who adopts it as the business of his life.

I shall not say much about the wages. A writer can live by
his writing. If not so luxuriously as by other trades, then

less luxuriously. The nature of the work he does all day
will more affect his happiness than the quality of his dinner

at night. Whatever be your calling, and however much it
brings you in the year, you could still, you know, get more

by cheating. We all suffer ourselves to be too much
concerned about a little poverty; but such considerations

should not move us in the choice of that which is to be the
business and justification of so great a portion of our