Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

riors, though by mischance he has busied himself in picking up only the soiled and rejected feathers; and when the eagles and peacocks of science come to see this ridiculous figure strutting before them, their wrath and ridicule are raised, and they rush with one accord upon the poor creature, and nibble and scratch at him till they leave not a feather in his skin. We will calmly and considerately put it to those philosophic critics, whether some or all of them have not entertained as truths, one or more of all the now repudiated opinions, to be found in the Vestiges. Was not the nebular theory received and currently believed for the last dozen of years? Was not the theory of the progressive development of the embryo at first misunderstood in a somewhat similar way as has been taken up by the author before us? Was not spontaneous, or at all events, equivocal generation, a common belief, till within these few years? Did not geologists maintain and set forth in their books, till within the last two or three years, that there were almost certain data to show that a progressive and ascending series of vegetable and animal organisms, were indicated in fossiliferous strata? Is not this opinion in fact still very prevalent, however erroneous it may be in reality? The author asks very pertinently, whether his development theory does not as simply, and as consistently with apparent facts and received traditions, account for the successions of peculiar organisms in the successive strata of the past eras, as the theory which his opponents still cling to of successive direct acts of creative power. In short, we think the author is quite entitled to stand up and say "Let him who has been guilty of no delusive false scientific opinions, throw the first stone." Not that we are for a moment to dream that any human being can pursue science of any kind without repeatedly changing his opinions, or falling into error; but we do think that this Vestige affair ought to prove a salutary lesson to our philosophers not to be so confident in dogmatising, or so ready to assume as a portion of general truth, the successive vagaries of the hour. How little did the profound and far-sweeping-minded Newton require to blot out of his theories, and how pregnant of instruction to posterity are even his few errors--just because he was wary and cautious, and morally prudent in proportion to the mighty and sacred nature of the truths which he had to investigate.

which we have read with pain, because we fear they afford but too true an exposition of the state of mind o many in the present day. Of this nature is the following,-p. 182.

[ocr errors]

Existing philosophy, halting between the notions of the enlightened and the unenlightened man, leaves us only puzzled. We know not how to regard the phenomena of the world, and our own relation to them. Many sink into a kind of fatalism which paralyzes the faculties; others ascend into fantastic dreams which exercise a not less baleful influence. Some of the disastrous consequences are sufficiently conspicuous; but many more blaze and expend themselves in privacy, known only in the circles where they have been so fatally felt. The entire conduct nearly all the rest, is regulated, or rather cast loose from of a large portion of society, and more or less that of regulation, by the want of definite ideas regarding that fixed plan of the divine working, on the study and observance of which it is evident that our secular happiness nearly altogether depends. Even acute men of the world are daily seen acting to their own manifest injury, in consequence of their utter ignorance of any system of law pressing around them. With the great bulk of society, life is merely a following of a few inferior instincts, with a perfect blindness to consequences. By individuals and by communities alike, physical and moral evils are pa tiently endured, which a true knowledge of the system of Providence would cause to be instantly redressed. Daily health and comfort, life itself, are sacrificed through the want of this knowledge. It is not in the heyday of cheerful, active, and prosperous existence, or when we look only to the things which constitute the greatness of nations, that we become sensible of this truth. must seek for convictions on the subject, beside the death-beds of amiable children, destroyed through ignorance of the rules of health, and hung over by parents who feel that life is nothing to them when these dear beings are no more; in the despairing comfortlessness of the selfish, who have acted through long years on the supposition that the social affections could be starved hurtlessly; venging, in a spreading contagion, the neglect by the rich in the pestilences ravaging the haunts of poverty, and reof the haplessness of their penury and disease-stricken neighbours ; in the canker of discontent and crime, which eats into the vitals of a nation in consequence of an unlimited indulgence of acquisitiveness by those possessing the most ready natural resources, and standing in the most fortunate positions; in the national degradation and misery which follow wars entered upon in the wantonness of pride, greed, and vanity. Doubtless, were the idea vitally present in the minds of all men, that from laws of unswerving regularity every act, thought, aud emotion of theirs helps to determine their own future, both by its direct effects on their fate, and its reflection from the future of their fellow-creatures, and this without any possibility of reprieve or extenuation, we should see society presenting a different aspect from what it does, the sum of human misery vastly diminished, and that of the general happiness as much increased."

We

The italics are ours, but we have our doubts whether a true knowledge of the system of Providence is to be foun

There are one or two passages in this " Explanation" either in the pages of the Vestiges, or in its Explanation.

MIND AND MATTER.

A TRACT FOR THE TIMES.

It was a still autumn evening. The full moon had risen majestically in the east, and a soft soothing wind played among the quivering leaves of the poplars. Reclining beside the open casement, the solemn beauty of the scene carried the mind into the airy regions of speculation, till the entrance of a well-known friend roused us from a long reverie. He glanced at the miscellaneous contents of the table before us,-fragments of plants, vases of water, with minute animals,-silvery fishes, with their glittering scales shining in the moonbeams, as they sported in their element, all indicated he materials of thought which had occupied the evening hours.

B. What! at your old occupation again. I thought that the splendid lunar eclipse of last evening had carried your speculations from the minutiae of earth to the vast orbs of the universe.

A. I have not, nor shall I ever, forget the interesting spectacle of last evening,—such a perfectly cloudless and transparent sky,-a full-orbed moon suddenly overtaken in her lonely course, the gradual progress of the dark round shadow, until her disc was completely enveloped in a circle of a sombre coppery hue,-and then, again, the as gradual retreat of the penumbra,-were such wonderful scenes, moved and shifted by an invisible hand, as could not fail to leave deep impressions. She

seems, however, to-night, as if she had altogether forgotten her "disastrous eclipse," and shines out fair and cheerful as heretofore.

B. Nay, nay, you are proceeding too fast with me now,-not content with spiritualizing animals and plants, you will animate the moon also.

A. And why not let her partake of the Anima Mundi. I do not wonder that eclipses should impress savage and ignorant beings with awe, for often as I have looked with admiration on the starry heavens, I never was so much struck with the power, and I might say, presence of their mighty Artificer, as during the progress of last evening's phenomenon.

B. Yet, after all, the phenomenon was nothing,that is nothing more than what we know must now and then occur with bodies revolving round the sun, as the earth and moon do.

A. True, but is this revolution round the sun, of two such huge masses, with such regularity and precísion, nothing? We call it gravity, and law of attraction, and so forth, yet these are but mere words, to clothe our ignorance of the true cause.

B. Now, you are becoming something of a doubter, such as you say I am.

A. Had you come to me an hour ago, I should have been inclined to palliate your doubts. I laid down my lens with the sinking consciousness that nothing was to be known. We open our eyes, and look upon a world of mysteries. I longed for the golden key to unlock the precious door, and then see all plain. Yet how foolish was this longing. Our blindness is the very stimulus to our labours and exertions. We grope on, from one thing to another, guess one day and feel our way a little the next. Having stumbled on some opening, we run up the narrow vista for miles, but finding that it has no right outlet, we painfully and reluctantly retrace our steps again.

B. And thus foiled, we sullenly jog on the monotonous highway of doubt.

A. No; there is a delight almost surpassing all others in the unravelling of Truth,—an excitement in passing from one stage of investigation to another, a solitary exultation and complacency in at last arriving at some conclusion, however small or unimportant it may seem. How the mind glows in tracing the final cause of some beautiful design,-pausing amidst the solitary investigations, to ponder on the admirable arrangements of creating Omnipotence! And this too quite independent of the silly vanity of being able to communicate such discoveries for the sake of a name, but charmed and in love with Truth for its own sake. I do maintain, that there is even a pleasure in groping and guessing in the dark. No doubt, the causes of all things might have been made plain to us at once, and the great field of knowledge opened at a single view. Perhaps, even to know one of the great mysteries of hidden causes would be to know all. But would not this have destroyed the very purpose of science, which evidently seems to be, to lead us on by excitement and exertion to the discipline of pure and sober thought.

B. Suppose you had the option of having made known to you a single cause, what would your choice be?

A. The cause of life.

B. I thought your aspirations would have assumed a higher or more general shape, the essence of Deity,the ultimate object of all creation,-the comprehension of eternity and infinitude,-the origin of evil,-the cause of gravity, and planetary rotations?

A. No; I should postpone all these to a knowledge of that "pleasing anxious being," of which we are all conscious that connection between matter and that active Power-so hidden and mysterious, yet whose manifestations are so evident.

B. Then you would be satisfied with the cause of the vitality of the little weed floating in the water, or of that polype attached to its stem, and which I see stretching out its little arms in all directions, groping for its sustenance?

A. I would, as being the key to the higher manifestations of life in myself and others.

B. Could I unsphere the spirit of Plato, or Pythagoras, or Aristotle, or Haller, or Hunter, they might be able to solve your difficulties. Had I a Mephistopheles

A. No, no; did any spirit of evil pledge himself to be my instructor, I would not bend to invoke him. Besides, we have had enough of such philosophy, and such modes of philosophizing already.

B. Some, however, will maintain that your easy faith does not leave you that free and determined doubter which a thorough investigator of a knotty point ought to be.

A. I might reply in the words of Boerhaave, "men are not capable of understanding beings and their natures like their Creator, nor were they present at the first formation of things, and yet are they proud enough to judge, censure, and determine in these matters." My mind is no farther preoccupied than it should be by valid evidence, and an unbiassed consideration of facts,

B. You will pardon me, but I think you and Boerhaave, and all such, are too fond of running away from what is clearly and palpably before our eyes: you take shelter under some great hidden causes, and will not condescend to look into matter or its properties, which appear to me the only legitimate sources of our knowledge. You seem in fact to become more and more a Manichean, and join the feeble cry in vilifying matter, Yet the whole aspect of nature disclaims this. For what affords us our purest pleasures but the beauty of external nature-the shapes and tints of crystals, gems, and metals; the picturesque arrangements of scenery; the exquisite forms of flowers, their soft textures, lovely shapes and hues, and the aromatic odours which they exhale.

A. I by no means thus pretend to vilify matter; I only hold it subordinate to mind; there is nothing vile and gross in it, unless we morally make it so. But then we only see matter as manifesting mind. All the ob jects of nature are beautiful and harmonious to us, just because they are the result of contrivance, and design, and admirable adaptation. In this way they embody to our senses the attributes of a Deity. Indeed we have never seen or known matter but under such circum stances. Could we see it in its simple condition, unim.

pelled by power, and without form and void, perhaps it would really be the gross and uninteresting substance which it is frequently called.

B. On looking at this little delicate rose spreading out its soft petals so beautifully, and diffusing such an exquisite odour, I really cannot but be impressed with the most favourable views of the purity of the materials of which it is composed. What a splendid property of matter is that of colour; what a refined, ethereal, and if you will, spiritual property is that of odour in bodies?

A. But take this rose which you so justly admire, reduce it to its elements, and it is nothing more than oxygen, hydrogen, and carbon-three substances which individually have no smell, or by themselves have no power of producing such, and colour is no more inherent in matter than the pain of a blow is inherent in the stick which comes across your back. Or take the same elements of your rose in a somewhat different arrangement, and you have the nauseous and poisonous hemlock. You are a chemist, and you ought to be well acquainted with these varied conditions of matter.

B. I have, in the course of my experiments, often been astonished at the Proteus forms of matter. When I take a mass of any solid opaque substance, and find that, by the application of heat, it in a few minutes becomes a fluid like water, and with still more intense heat, is rarefied into a vast extension of vapour as invisible and light as the common air, I almost think matter capable of doing every thing which we see in nature. I see it become wood in tree, flesh and blood in animals, and a thinking being in man.

A. Come, come, Master Chemist, you are running away with your facts and your matter too. I suppose you believe in the atomic theory for want of a better-that all bodies are resolvable into extremely minute constituent elements, called atoms.

B. I do.

A. And you also believe that one or more of those atoms are fit representations of all matter, that they have figure, extension, &c., but that they are of themselves perfectly inert, that they move not but when impelled, and that they stop and remain at rest when any opposing power keeps them so.

B. All this I allow-what we call the vis inertia of matter.

A. Then when you see this ivory ball rolling past you, and slowly but surely and accurately taking its way along the table till it meets with that other ball at rest, and jostling it a little comes to rest itself also-do you think that it is any power in the ball or its congeries of atoms that has made it do all this, or do you not allow that I willed that it should thus roll, and that the muscular power of my arm gave it the impulse, and that my design was that it should meet the other ball and then be stopped in its progress.

B. I see all this plainly.

A. Then if we turn to the moon or one of those planets shining so brilliantly, and mark those larger balls moving through space in circles accurately designed and with forces commensurate with their masses, do we not in the same way conclude that some mind willed and designed those courses, and that some suitable im

pulse was exercised to start them at first and so continue to keep them in perpetual motion.

B. I grant you all this.

A. Then what part does the matter play in all this, either as single atoms or as millions of atoms congregated together. Is it not still the same passive and inert mass, and does it not clearly show active and intelligent power superadded to matter.

B. Well, but what has this to do with chemical action? A. We shall come to that now. You gave me a very accurate description of the various solid, fluid, and aeriform conditions of matter. These I agree with you are truly wonderful, but I cannot agree with your lame conclusion, that you think matter capable of doing every thing, for I maintain that in all these cases matter does nothing.

B. What! do you not believe in expansion, attraction, repulsion, and all the wonderful chemical affinities.

A. I do, but you must be perfectly aware that the power or property of expansion is not inherent in matter, but in caloric or heat, a power altogether extraneous. It is undoubtedly the same with regard to attraction and repulsion, and indeed all the movements of matter, for you have already allowed that atoms per se are inert in the most complete sense of the term. You have this matter evidently controlled by the extraneous powers of electricity, magnetism, &c. In short, as you have allowed that masses of matter are moved on a large scale by powers instigated by designing will, so are the minute portions of matter or atoms impelled and directed by similar powers. The two great active and antagonizing powers in nature appear to be expansion, with which we associate the terms heat, elasticity, &c. and contraction, with which we associate gravity, attraction,

&c.

B. I own you begin to stagger my opinions somewhat of the omnipotency of matter. But I should like to bring you to organic action, where I think I am more at home. I have been lately amusing myself with a comparison between combustion and life. For both two kinds of matter, in opposite states of electricity, are requisite, the carbonaceous juices of the animal and plant, and the carbonaceous matter of the fuel,-the oxygen of the atmosphere being requisite and common to both. The existence of both depends upon an incessant and continuous interchange of these two substances. For both, is a constant supply of fresh material neces▾ sary, in both, these materials undergo a reciprocal chemical change. In both, this action is commenced under the exciting circumstances of heat, and it is continued in both, till an equilibrium of electric states is finally accomplished. In both, the action is kept up as long as the pabulum of vitality is supplied, and when this is exhausted, all action ceases. An atmosphere without oxygen, or an electro-positive air, extinguishes life and a candle equally soon. Then flame, the product of combustion, is a phenomenon totally different from either, or any of the constituents of combustion, and so the manifestations of life, especially thought, bear no resemblance to the organic structure or the elements by which it is stimulated. I see you smile and look upon all these as something like the conceits of the older philosophers.

A. Truly, according to your ingenious illustrations, life seems little or nothing more than the blaze of a farthing candle. We are mere register stoves, with this addition only, that we have self-acting tongs and shovels, by which we can supply ourselves with your so called pabulum of life. I can make one use of your theory, however, and that is to extract out of it, an illustration which I can turn against your own train of argument. You say that flame is something totally different from any thing which we can conceive of oxygen or carbon taken by themselves and separately, a peculiar phenomenon elicited in consequence of the combination of both. Now apply this analogy to life. It bears no resemblance to the organised tissues, nor to any of the external stimuli which act on this organism, but it is something arising out of the combined action of both -a power now become manifest, which was before invisible, and to our senses unappreciable. But before I go farther, let me hear what are really your opinions regarding organic life.

B. I am very much inclined to think, viewing life as we find it exhibited continually before our eyes-seeing living beings taking their origin from a small pointgrowing and expanding by the aggregation of matter, and then, having arrived at maturity, again as gradually decaying and wasting away from the loss of this matter, that the whole is a process of atomic action, guided partly by the inherent chemical action of matter, and partly by other laws called vital. I still must return to my former assertion, that if the fibres, and nerves, and flesh of animals, be entirely composed of matter, why may we not suppose that matter feels, and thinks, and

reasons.

A. I thought you fairly acknowledged, a little ago, that matter was inert, and totally incapable, by itself, of even the simplest motions, or actions of any kind,that it stood still or rolled onwards just as it was impelled or hindered by an active and willing power,that even all chemical actions were the result of powers not inherent in or possessed by matter, but extrinsic of and accidental to matter.

B. I did, as regards atoms abstractedly, or as regards the general actions of inorganic bodies. But I still think that matter peculiarly arranged, as we find it in organized structures, may and does produce all the phenomena of life.

A. What sort of logic is this? If an atom, by itself, can neither move nor act in any way whatever, unless impelled by some other power, how shall two atoms move each other; or how shall two thousand, however curiously arranged in a mass of muscle or brain, move or perform any action, without a power to impel them; and if they cannot so much as move, far less could you expect them to feel and think. But I shall draw your attention to an illustration in a well-known machine-a steam-engine, for instance. Here is really a machine formed of various tubes, and pistons, and wheels, all so contrived as to concentrate a steady and systematic force upon some particular point, as the driving of a spinning-mill, or the pumping of a mine. Now, an entirely uninformed person, looking at this machine, might very readily suppose, that the beautiful array of mechanism which he sees in action before him actually generated the prodigious force which he witnesses its ascending and descending beam exert; and thus he would give credit to every wheel and pinion he saw for the share of the general labour which they contributed. Now, you know very well, that no part of this engine generates power, but that, on the contrary, all its parts, by friction, tend to weaken and retard the impetus,you know very well that the whole contrivance of the machine is just to concentrate and convey the expansive force of the steam from the boiler, where it is produced, to the crank the point where all the force is required to bear upon,—and that, moreover, the prime mover here

is not the water of the boiler, or the steam, but the fire, whose expansive power sets the whole in motion. It is just as erroneous then for you to suppose that the muscles, or the nerves, or the brain of the animal machine, produce, of themselves, any force, or power, or thought, or ideas.

B. What, then, is your prime mover in animals,-do you call in your great general powers of nature,—your two grand balances of expansion and contraction, of heat and gravity?

A. These, in so far as they seem common to all material things, that is, chemical and mechanical forces, play their part in the animal machine,—but over and above this, there is indicated a Power which presides over and controls the whole.

B. Then you return to the old dogma of vital principle.

A. You may call it any thing you please-mind, spi. rit, vital power, or principle-a name is of no great consequence, so as one understands what is meant under that name.

B. But is this spirit or principle general or special? A. We have every ground to conclude its specialty. Will, design, action, control, all emanate from the individual, and all these are exercised by the individual within a circle having certain limits. In this respect, the individual man bears a certain resemblance to his great Creator-"we are made in the image of God." As the will, and design, and power of the Deity extends throughout the universe, so these attributes in man form a little circle within their appointed sphere. Indeed the great characteristic of organic being, taken in its wide range, is individuality of action—the great characteristic of inorganic nature again being generality of action. But I tire you with my opinions.

B. No-you puzzle me-a thought has just come across my mind, according to your views, what is the use of matter at all?

[ocr errors]

A. Now I have some hopes of you. It was an observation of the acute D'Alembert, that the philosopher who did not at times feel a doubt of the existence of matter come across his mind, might be assured that he had not any talent for metaphysical inquiries.

Notions of this kind are by no means new to philosophy-nay they are not even uncongenial to the studies of the profound chemist, who, one would think, was the keenest of searchers into the mysteries of matter. I think I perceive Faraday giving the slip to atoms, and so forth, and carrying on a flirtation with the forces of Boscovitch, Berkley, and Hutton. But I have no intention of discarding matter, although I confess I have just as little real conception of what matter is as I have of mind or spirit. But I will tell you what I suppose is the use of matter. The material world appears to be the mode which it has pleased the Deity to adopt, in order to make himself manifest to man in this his first stage of being. In the glorious universe, in the beautiful earth and air, are displayed some portion of the mind of God, and the manifestations of his attributes. The material structure, the organs of sense, and the whole frame of man, are so projected as to meet all those high manifestations of his Maker, and form the medium by which all impressions are received and imprinted on the mind. The world, so to speak, is the great model school for the infant man-the preparatory gymnasium of training and probation for his knowing and moral faculties, where the intellect, the imagination, and the will have their definite spheres of action.

B. There are many other questions and objections connected with these views, which crowd upon my mind; but 'tis almost midnight, and that silvery moon has described a considerable arc in the blue sky during our prolonged talk. On another occasion I may be better able to meet views which, I confess, have greatly weakened my confidence in mere matter.

CASE OF COPYRIGHT D'AUBIGNE'S HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION.

An interesting question connected with literary copyright has been raised, by the manner in which it is proposed to publish the fourth volume of D'Aubigne's History of the Reformation. This popular work was first published in Paris by the author, who is a native of Geneva; and on the appearance of the second volume, an English translation was produced and published by Mr Walther of London, to whom the honour of first bringing it before the British reader is meritoriously due. Afterwards Mr Kelly produced a second translation, which appeared in Whittaker's Popular Library; Mr Dundas Scott followed with a third, published by Blackie and Co., Glasgow; Mr Beveridge, with a fourth, published by Mr Collins; and Mr M Phun brought up the rear with a fifth, the translator of which has not been announced. All these copies have commanded more or less extensive sales; and the competition amongst them has been so great, that Messrs Blackie have put forth two editions of their version, and Mr Collins no less than three of his.

In the midst of the rivalry, Dr D'Aubigne came to this country with the view, it was understood, of collecting materials for subsequent volumes of his history; and his friends availed themselves of the opportunity to suggest to him that the copyright of his forthcoming volume should be sold to a British bookseller, in order that a larger sum might be realized for it than had been obtained for its predecessors. A committee was accordingly formed, to whom the necessary negotiations were entrusted. Various parties in the trade were invited to make offers, but by some unaccountable mismanagement, the four co-publishers we have named, were not afforded, as we have been in. formed, a proper opportunity of competing, and consequently no offer was received from them. The fifth had announced his intention of completing his edition without incurring the ceremony of waiting on D'Aubigne, and was not, we presume, asked or expected to take part in the contest. But the mischance of not including his four brethren in the scheme was unfortunate. They had an existing, tangible, interest in the work, before entering the arena, and from their respectability and enterprise, were not likely to be behind on the score of liberality; whereas, any new speculator had merely a reversion of profits to look to. Then, as they were the parties who had made the work popular amongst their countrymen, they had a prior claim to favour; as all the prestige of continental reputation would have been insufficient to excite bibliopolic rivalry apart from the glare of four transla tions. And, lastly, as three are said to be unable to keep a secret, so four cannot keep a book high in price; and those four parties having honourably agreed to make a collective, and not an individual bargain with D'Aubigne, ample security was afforded, that if any of them got the copyright, there would have been no monopoly of the fourth volume; whereas, if a fifth party got it, there was a presumption, which has since turned out true, that the hands of that fifth would be against the four, and those of the four against the fifth, thus causing confusion and mischief to arise.

Messrs Oliver and Boyd appear to have made the highest offer; and they speedily notified that they alone possessed the right of publishing the fourth volume." Messrs Whittaker, Collins, and Blackie denied this, except in so far as priority of time was concerned, and asserted that they would all publish immediately on the appearance of the French edition. Mr Walther, "biding his time," has as yet given no sign.

Supposing Oliver and Boyd right, it follows:

1. That D'Aubigne gets a large sum.

2. That the public get one edition of the fourth volume of the History of the Reformation.

3. That Walther, Whittaker, Collins, and Blackie, have unsaleable stock thrown on their hands.

4. That the purchasers of three of the editions do not get their sets completed in a uniform style.

Supposing Oliver and Boyd wrong, it follows: 1. That D'Aubigne gets nothing.

2. That the public get eight editions of the fourth volume.

3. That the stock of the four co-publishers possesses the same value that it did before.

4. That the public can complete their sets without inconvenience.

These alternative results are based on the assumption, that Oliver and Boyd's edition appears shortly before the publication of D'Aubigne's French edition, and that that

brief priority secures copyright in Britain to the former. But if D'Aubigne's French edition be delayed long, as it has been hinted will be the case, then the Paris, or if not they, assuredly the Brussels booksellers will not brook postponement, and they will at once re-translate from the English edition,-a catastrophe which cannot fail to be fatal to the integrity of the continental edition. D'Aubigne's magic pages have suffered enough by translation already; and if twice subjected to that process, sad havoc will follow. This, however, is a point solely for D'Aubigne to consider, and we leave it, to take up what is more within our province.

Three legal questions are involved in the claim for copyright in the fourth volume, and the stand that has been made against it.

First, Can an English bookseller publish an English edition of a foreign author's work, that foreign author having previously sold an English translation of it to another English bookseller.

Second, If that cannot be done, can an English bookseller re-translate from a foreign translation-the latter not having been issued by the original author?

Third, Can a foreign author be protected in any copyright which he may sell to an English bookseller?

D'Aubigne's delay will probably prevent the first point from being discussed; and the second refers to an expedient so clumsy, that we trust it will not need to be inquired into. The third is one which can be treated on general grounds, and on it we shall take the liberty of saying a few words. British law says distinctly and unequivocally, that if any foreign country will sanction British copyrights, Britain will protect its copyrights; but the law does not say that we will legalize the literary property of an individual belonging to a country which has not adopted the reciprocity system; and the inference, we should think, would be, that if tried, it would not confer such a right of legality. Nations can deal with nations only; and, however hard it may be for foreigners in individual cases, no country can suspend its laws to give them immunity. Scott, Byron, Dickens, &c. have had their works sold all over Europe and America without receiving any remuneration, and their case, in common with all our eminent literati, is not one whit less oppressive than that of D'Aubigne. Let the republic of Geneva only enact that they will stop the importations of Brussels pirates, and protect British literature, and then, in terms of the copyright act, the Queen in council may issue an order for making D'Aubigne's History of the Reformation as effectual copyright as Tytler's History of Scotland Such a compromise would be honourable to both countries, and might' prove the harbinger of a general system of literary protection over the whole republic of letters, irrespective of the arbitrary distinctions which now dissociate intellectual brotherhood. And with all deference for Dr D'Aubigne and his friends, we submit this course as the most dignified, as well as safest method of saving his History.

We do not throw out the suggestion merely from our own impressions of the law. We have in view a case which has actually been tried under the new act, and which, if fairly considered, should at least have the effect of inducing caution before any claim to copyright be seriously advanced. We refer to the case of Chappell v. Purday, where the question was raised, whether the pursuer could have copyright in the overture to "Fra Diavolo," composed by Auber, and first published in Paris. The judges in the Court of Exchequer held, that no foreigner or his assignee could possess such a right either at common law, or by virtue of the English statutes. Regarding the question of a foreign work first published in this country, the decision states in one place, that it may have the benefit of the statutes;" but afterwards, this is qualified by the following suspicious sentence, founded upon the supposed spirit in which the legislature framed the act: Upon the whole, then, we think it doubtful whether a foreigner, not resident here, can have an English copyright at all."

This case is certainly not analogous to D'Aubigne's, but, the doubts incidentally referring to it are so counterbalanced, as to make his claim perhaps more than dubious. Still, in the absence of an express decision, it would be hazardous to pronounce any decided opinion, and, therefore, the precise legal bearings must remain in their present equivocal position until the appearance of the fourth volume in this country.

« AnteriorContinuar »