shape of commission, allowances, &c., from 40 to 45 per cent. of the gross proceeds, leaving the Stationer, Printer, Binder, Advertising, and all other expenses to be paid out of the remainder. And here arise two important contingencies. 1st. In order that the author may know the true number of the impression, and, consequently, the correct amount of the sale, it is necessary that his publisher should be honest. 2dly. For the author to duly receive his profits, his publisher must be solvent. I intend no disrespect to the trade in general by naming these conditions; but I am bound to mention them, as risks adding to the insecurity of the property as two hurdles which the rider of Pegasus may have to clear in his course to be a winner. If I felt inclined to reflect on the trade, it would be to censure those dishonest members of it, who set aside a principle in which the interests of authors and booksellers are identical—the inviolability of copyright. I need not point out the notorious examples of direct piracy at home, which have made the foreign offences comparatively venial; nor yet those more oblique plagiarisms, and close parodies, which are alike hurtful in their degree. Of the evil of these latter practices I fear our bibliopoles are not sufficiently aware; but that man deserves to have his head published in foolscap, who does not see that whatever temporary advantages a system of piracy may hold out, the consequent swamping of Literature will be ruinous to the trade, till eventually it may dwindle down to Four-and-Twenty Booksellers all in a Row,-and all in "the old book line," pushing off back-stock and bartering remainders. But my letter is exceeding all reasonable length, and I will reserve what else I have to say till next post.

LETTER II.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE ATHENEUM :

My Dear Sir, I have, perhaps, sufficiently illustrated the state of copyright, bad as it is, without the help of Foreign intervention: not, however, without misgivings that I shall be sus

pected of quoting from some burlesque code, drawn up by a Rabelais in ridicule of the legislative efforts of a community of ourang-outangs or a sample by Swift, of the Constitution of the Sages of Laputa. I have proved that literary property might almost be defined, reversing the common advertisement, as something of use to everybody but the owner. To guard this precarious possession I have shown how the law provides, 1st, That if a work be of temporary interest it shall virtually be free for any Bookaneer to avail himself of its pages and its popularity with impunity. 2dly. That when time has stamped a work as of permanent value, the copyright shall belong to anybody or nobody. I may now add,—as if to "huddle jest upon jest,”that the mere registry of a work, to entitle it to this precious protection, incurs a fee of eleven copies-in value, it might happen, some hundreds of pounds! Then to protect the author,"aye, such protection as vultures give to lambs,"-I have instanced how he is responsible for all he writes—and subject, for libel and so forth, to fines and imprisonments-how he may libel by proxy-and how he may practically be libelled himself without redress. I have evidenced how the law, that protects his brass-plate on the door, will wink at the stealing of his name by a brazen pirate; howbeit the author, for only accommodating himself by a forgery, might be transported beyond seas. I have set forth how, though he may not commit any breach of privilege, he may have his own words garbled, Frenchified, transmogrified, garnished, taken in or let out, like old clothes, turned, dyed and altered. I have proved, in short, according to my first position, that in the evil eye of the law, "we have neither character to lose nor property to protect,”—that there is "one law for the rich and another for the poor" (alias authors)—and that the weights and scales which Justice uses in literary matters ought to be broken before her face by the petty jury.

And now let me ask, is this forlorn state-its professors thus degradingly appreciated, its products thus shabbily appraised— the proper condition of literature? The liberty of the press is boasted of as a part of the British constitution: but might it not be supposed that, in default of a censorship, some cunning Machiavel had devised a sly underplot for the discouragement

of letters-an occult conspiracy to present men of learning and genius" to the world's eye in the pitiful plight of poor devils, starvelings, mumpers, paupers, vagrants, loose fish, jobbers, needy and seedy ones, nobodies, ne'er-do-weels, shy coves, strol lers, creatures, wretches, objects, small debtors, borrowers, dependents, lackpennies, half-sirs, clapper-dudgeons, scamps, insolvents, maunderers, blue-gowns, bedesmen, scarecrows, fellows about town, sneaks, scrubs, shabbies, rascal deer of the herd, animals "wi' letter'd braw brass collars"-but poor dogs for all that? Our family tree is ancient enough, for it is coeval with knowledge; and Mythology, the original Herald's College, has assigned us a glorious blazonry. But would not one believe that some sneering Mephistopeles, willing to pull down "God Almighty's gentlemen," had sought to supply the images of their heraldry with a scurvier gloss; e. g. a Lady Patroness with an ægis, that gives more stones than bread: a Patron who dispenses sunshine in lieu of coal and candle: nine elderly spinsters, who have never married for want of fortune: a horse with wings, that failing oats he may fly after the chaff that is driven before the wind a forked mount, and no knife to it: a lot of bayleaves and no custards: a spring of Adam's ale! In fact, all the standing jests and taunts at authors and authorship, have their point in poverty: such as Grub-street-first floors down the chimney-sixpenny ordinaries-second hand suits-shabby blacks, holes at the elbow-and true as epaulette to the shoulder the hand of the bumbailiff!

Unfortunately, as if to countenance such a plot as I have hypothetically assumed above, there is a marked disproportion, as compared with other professions, in the number of literary men. who are selected for public honors and employments. So far indeed from their having, as a body, any voice in the senate, they have scarcely a vote at the hustings; for the system under which they suffer is hardly adapted to make them forty-shilling freeholders, much less to enable them to qualify for seats in the House. A jealous-minded person might take occasion to say, that this was but a covert mode of effecting the exclusion of men whom the gods have made poetical, and whose voices might sound more melodious and quite as pregnant with meaning as

many a vox et præterea nihil that is lifted up to Mr. Speaker. A literary man, indeed,-Sheridan,-is affirmed by Lord Byron to have delivered the best speech that was ever listened to in Parliament, and it would even add force to the insinuation that the rotten boroughs, averred to be the only gaps by which men merely rich in learning and genius could creep into the Commons, have been recently stopped up. Of course such a plot cannot be entertained; but in the meantime the effect is the same, and whilst an apparent slight is cast upon literature, the senate has probably been deprived of the musical wisdom of many wonderful Talking Birds, through the want of the Golden Waters. For instance, it might not only be profitable to hear such a man as Southey, who has both read history and written history, speak to the matter in hand, when the affairs of nations are discussed, and the beacon lights of the past may be made to reflect a guiding ray into the London-like fogs of the future. I am quite aware that literary genius per se is not reckoned a sufficient qualification for a legislator:-perhaps not-but why is not a poet as competent to discuss questions concerning the public welfare, the national honor, the maintenance of morals and religion, or the education of the people, as a gentleman, without a touch of poetry about him, who had been schooling his intellects for the evening's debate by a course of morning whist? Into some of these honorary memberships, so to speak, a few distinguished men of letters might be safely franked-and if they did not exactly turn up trumps-I mean as statesmen,-they would serve to do away with an awkward impression that literature, which as a sort of Natural religion is the best ally of the Revealed one, has been kindly denied any share in that affectionate relationship which obtains between Church and State. As for the Upper House, I will not presume to say whether the dignity of that illustrious assembly would have been impaired or otherwise by the presence of a Baron with the motto of Poeta nascitur, non fit; supposing Literature to have taken a seat in the person of Sir Walter Scott beside the Lords of law and war. It is not for me to decide whether the brain-bewitching art be worthy of such high distinction as the brain-bewildering art, or that other one described by a bard, himself a Peer; but in the ab

sence of such creations it seems a peculiar hardship that men of letters should not have been selected for distinctions; the "Blue Ribbon of Literature" for instance, most legitimately their due. Finally, as if to aggravate these neglects, literary men have not been consoled, as is usual, for the loss of more airy gratifications by a share in what Justice Greedy would call "the substantials, Sir Giles, the substantials." They have been treated as if they were unworthy of public employments, at least with two exceptions-Burns, who held a post very much under Government, and Wordsworth, who shares the reproach of "the loaves and fishes" for penny rolls and sprats. The want of business-like habits, it is true, has been alleged against the fraternity; but even granting such deficiency, might not the most practical Idlers, Loungers and Ramblers of them all fill their posts quite as efficiently as those personages who are paid for having nothing to do, and never neglect their duty? Not that I am an admirer of sinecures, except in the Irishman's acceptation of the word ;* but may not such bonuses to gentlemen who write as little as they well can, viz., their names to the receipts, appear a little like a wish to discountenance those other gentlemen who write as much as they well can, and are at the expense of printing it besides ?

I had better here enter a little protest against these remarks being mistaken for the splenetic and wrathful ebullitions of a morbid or addled egotism. I have not "deviated into the gloomy vanity of drawing from self;" I charge the State, it is true, with backing literature as the champion backed Cato—that is to say, tail foremost—but I am far from therefore considering myself as an overlooked, underkept, wet-blanketed, hid-under-abushel, or lapped-in-a-napkin individual. I have never, to my knowledge, displayed any remarkable aptitude for business, any decided predilection for politics, or unusual mastery in political economy-any striking talent at "a multiplicity of talk,"-and

* One Patrick Maguire. He had been appointed to a situation the reverse of a place of all work; and his friends, who called to congratulate him, were very much astonished to see his face lengthen on receipt of the

news.

same.

"A sinecure is it!" exclaimed Pat. "The divil thank them for that Sure I know what a sinecure is. It's a place where there's nothing to do, and they pay ye by the piece."