that guides into a bog, a glimmer of the ludicrous is apt to lead the fancy into an indelicacy, I feel some honest pride in remembering that the reproach of impurity has never been cast upon me by my judges. It has not been my delight to exhibit the Muse, as it has tenderly been called, "high-kilted." I have had the gratification, therefore, of seeing my little volumes placed in the hands of boys and girls; and as I have children of my own, to, I hope, survive me, I have the inexpressible comfort of thinking that hereafter they will be able to cast their eyes over the pages inscribed with my name, without a burning blush on their young cheeks to reflect that the author was their father. So whispers Hope, with the dulcet voice and the golden hair; but what thunders Law, of the iron tone and the frizzled wig? "Decent as thy Muse may be now-a delicate Ariel-she shall be indecent and indelicate hereafter! She shall class with the bats and the fowls obscene! The slow reward of thy virtue shall be the same as the prompt punishment of vice. Thy copyright shall depart from thee-it shall be everybody's and anybody's, and no man shall call it his own!" "

Verily, if such be the proper rule of copyright, for the sake of consistency two very old copywriters should be altered to match, and run thus :-"Virtue is its own punishment.”—“ "Age commands disrespect!"

To return to the author, whose fame is slow and sure-to be its own reward,—should he be dependent, as is often the case, on the black and white bread of literature-should it be the profes sion by which he lives, it is evident that under such a system he must beg, run into debt, or starve. And many have been beggars-many have got into debt; it is hardly possible to call up the ghost of a literary hero, without the apparition of a catchpole at his elbow, for, like Jack the Giant-killer, our elder worthies, who had the Cap of Knowledge, found it equally convenient to be occasionally invisible, as well as to possess the Shoes of Swift. ness, and some have starved! Could the "Illustrious Dead" arise, after some Anniversary Dinner of the Literary Fund, and walk in procession round the table, like the resuscitated objects of the Royal Humane Society, what a melancholy exhibition they would make! I will not marshal them forth in order, but PART II.

8

leave the show to the imagination of the reader. I doubt whether the Illustrious Living would make a much brighter muster. Supposing a general summons, how many day-rules-how many incognitos from abroad-how many visits to Monmouth Street would be necessary to enable the members to put in an appear. ance! I fear, heaven forgive me! some of our nobles even would show only Three Golden Balls in their coronets! If we do not actually starve or die by poison in this century, it is, perhaps, owing partly to the foundation of the Literary Fund, and partly to the invention of the Stomach Pump; but the truly abject state of Literature may be gathered from the fact, that, with a more accurate sense of the destitution of the Professors, than of the dignity of the Profession, a proposal has lately been brought forward for the erection of alms-houses for paupers of "learning and genius," who have fallen into the sere and yellow leaf, under the specious name of Literary Retreats, or, as a military man would technically and justly read such a record of our failures, Literary Defeats. Nor is this the climax: the proposal names half a dozen of these humble abodes to "make a beginning" with a mere brick of the building-as if the projector, in his mind's eye, saw a whole Mile End Road of one-storied tenements in the shell, stretching from Number Six-and "to be continued!" Visions of paupers, spare my aching sight, Ye unbuilt houses, crowd not on my soul!

I do hope, before we are put into yellow-leather very smallclothes, muffin-caps, green-baize coats and badges,—and made St. Minerva's charity-boys at once,-for that must be the first step, that the Legislature will interfere, and endeavor to provide better for our sere and yellow leaves, by protecting our black and white ones. Let the law secure to us a fair chance of getting our own, and perhaps, with proper industry, we may be able-who knows?-to build little snuggeries for ourselves. Under the present system, the chances are decidedly against a literary man's even laying a good foundation of French bricks. To further illustrate the nature of a copyright, we will suppose that an author retains it, or publishes, as it is called, on his own account. He will then have to divide amongst the trade, in the

shape of commission, allowances, &c., from 40 to 45 per cent. of he gross proceeds, leaving the Stationer, Printer, Binder, Adverising, 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 ATHENÆUM:

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 Rabelais in ridicule of the legislative efforts of a community 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 some thing 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 hap pen, 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 libe 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 charac ter 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 appraisedthe 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