downright slovenly or
careless work is the most profitable; but I do mean to say that any high
degree of conscientiousness, especially in the way of study and
research, is a direct injury to the professional writer's purse.
Suppose, for example, that he is engaged in reviewing a book, and is to
get 3_l._ 10_s._ for the review when it is written. If by the accident
of previous accumulation his knowledge is already fully equal to the
demand upon it, the review may be written rapidly, and the day's work
will have been a profitable one; but if, on the other hand, it is
necessary to consult several authorities, to make some laborious
researches, then the reviewer is placed in a dilemma between literary
thoroughness and duty to his family. He cannot spend a week in reading
up a subject for the sum of 3_l._ 10_s._ Is it not much easier to string
together a few phrases which will effectually hide his ignorance from
everybody but the half-dozen enthusiasts who have mastered the subject
of the book? It is strange that the professional pursuit of literature
should be a direct discouragement to study; yet it is so. There _are_
hack-writers who study, and they deserve much honor for doing so, since
the temptations the other way are always so pressing and immediate.
Sainte-Beuve was a true student, loving literature for its own sake, and
preparing for his articles with a diligence rare in the profession. But
he was scarcely a hack-writer, having a modest independency, and living
besides with the quiet frugality of a bachelor.

The truth seems to be that literature of the highest kind can only in
the most exceptional cases be made a profession, yet that a skilful
writer may use his pen professionally if he chooses. The production of
the printed talk of the day _is_ a profession, requiring no more than
average ability, and the tone and temper of ordinary educated men. The
outcome of it is journalism and magazine-writing; and now let me say a
word or two about these.

The highest kind of journalism is very well done in England; the men who
do it are often either highly educated, or richly gifted by nature, or
both. The practice of journalism is useful to an author in giving him a
degree of readiness and rapidity, a skill in turning his materials to
immediate account, and a power of presenting one or two points
effectively, which may often be valuable in literature of a more
permanent order. The danger of it may be illustrated by a ref