charmed me, and whose portrait hangs near me each day as I work-but very much the reverse.

Miss Broughton would probably join her contempt to mine for the host of imitators of her style, whose work is a weak reflection of her manner without any of her genius or her strength the "school" to designate which her name is commonly employed-and entirely agree with me that if, as an inexperienced writer, I felt myself drifting toward this justly despised group, it was well for me-and perhaps for others-that I should resolutely set myself to work out a style of my own rather than become even a successful imitator of another.

It seems to me that cheap sneers at this kind of effort are a little unworthy of a great literary Review.

U

NDER this head, and that of "The First Principles of Literary Property," in the first number of The Author, I find one or two statements which, if not in terms erroneous, are capable of misleading or unduly alarming readers who do not know any law.

"Literary property," it is said, "is subject to the laws which protect all other property." That it is recognized and protected by law as something of value is quite true; and probably this is all that the writer meant. But "the laws which protect property" differ greatly according to the kind of property. Land is not protected in exactly the same way as goods, and a trade mark and a copyright are again protected by means different from those in use for tangible property, and differing in details from one another. Let not the unwary reader therefore imagine that he or she can have a literary pirate dealt with as a thief. Copyright is not, in the legal sense, a thing capable of being stolen.

It is asked, "Does anybody take the trouble to secure his copyright in a public lecture?" (meaning, by the process of giving notice to two Justices of the Peace as provided by the Act 5 and 6 Wm. IV, c. 65). The answer is, probably not. But there is an excellent reason for not doing it which the author of "Notes on Copyright" seems to have overlooked. The common law gives a sufficient

remedy without the help of the Act, as was decided by the House of Lords in 1887, in Professor Caird's case in Scotland (Caird v. Sime, 12 App. Ca. 326). It is a question of fact whether the delivery of a lecture implies authority to the hearers to republish it. it. Whatever may have been the opinion of the framers of the Act of William IV (which expressly preserves the general law, only giving the benefit of special new sanctions to lecturers who fulfil the formalities of notice to two justices), no such authority is presumed, as a matter of law, from the mere fact of a lecture being delivered to a more or less numerous audience. If there be any presumption it seems to be the other way. In truth the right to restrain the publication of an orally delivered lecture is not copyright at all. It is distinct from and antecedent to copyright, like the right to restrain publication of one's private letters. As that right is unaffected by the original letter having become the property (for all purposes short of publication) of the person to whom it was sent, so the lecturer's right is unaffected by his lecture having been orally delivered to a particular audience or any number of audiences. The commentator goes on to say that "a lecturer is powerless to protect himself against unauthorized re-delivery." I am not aware of any authority for this statement as regards an unpublished lecture, and am not at all disposed to agree with it. As for the exception of university and certain other public lectures and discourses in the Act of William IV, it has, by its express terms, only the effect of leaving them in the same condition as if the Act had not passed. Caird v. Sime shows that at least some university lectures are efficiently protected by the general law. Therefore a person acting on the commentator's opinion that sermons "seem to be clearly public property' would be more likely to make practical acquaintance with the nature and operation of an injunction than to make his fortune by unlicensed reprints of pulpit eloquence. When the writer adds that "there is seldom any very great demand for sermons, university or college lectures," he is so far right that in these, as in other kinds of literary production, the successful and popular authors are a minority. Still, both sermons and lectures are known to become fairly successful books. It is the fact that the greater part of Sir Henry Maine's works (for example) was first delivered in the form of lectures. An uncontrolled right to print the matter which afterwards became "Village Communities" from notes taken in Maine's lecture room at Oxford would have been a right of no small value. And the fact that no attempt was ever made to exercise such a supposed right is some evidence that no one at the time imagined it to exist.

I have made these remarks only for the purpose

of preventing misapprehension as to the existing law. But I wish to add that I am wholly adverse to the proposal of creating a new kind of performing right in the recitation of verses or prose already printed and published, and therefore already enjoying the protection of ordinary literary copyright. Where is this kind of thing to stop? Why should not Sydney Smith have had an exclusive "performing right" in his jokes and anecdotes? The author of "recitations" who wants to keep them to himself has only not to publish the text, a precaution quite consistent with privately printing any number of copies that may be convenient. He can then make his own terms with anyone who desires to use it.

FREDERICK POLLOCK.

II. CHARGES FOR CORRECTIONS.

I suppose all authors have their grievances against publishers. I have had mine. Yet, taking all in all, I must say that I have been well treated by my English publisher. My advice to young authors is-find a respectable publisher and stick to him.

But I have had a long-standing grievance against printers, and I wonder whether The Author can help me. Is there no means of checking the charges for corrections?

I know that in good printing offices there is a man specially appointed to check off charges for corrections. But, in spite of that, there must be something wrong in the system. The estimate one receives from a printer seems at first sight very reasonable. But when the bill comes, there are always high charges for corrections, for extrasmall type, for foreign matter, for reading and putting to press, &c., so that one has often to pay twice as much as the original estimate.

Much seems to me to depend on the judgment and the good-will of the compositor in making corrections. If a few words are put in by the author, surely, with a little management, they could be squeezed in; some other words might be left out, or two paragraphs might be run into one. But if, instead of that, ten or twenty pages are disturbed, of course the bill is very much swelled. One line too much on any one page is looked upon as high treason in every printing office. But surely it would matter less than twenty shillings for re-making twenty pages.

I know quite well what compositors will say. Copy your MS., or have it copied and carefully revised, and then the charges for corrections will be next to nothing. My answer is, I am willing to pay what is reasonable for my own careless

writing, and for my changing my mind at the last moment. But I do not like to see corrections treated as mere "fat."

F. MAX MÜLLER.

III. AMERICAN RIGHTS.

Before the collaboration of an American citizen can procure copyright, the following conditions must be borne in mind.

1. The American collaborator must not receive a lump sum for his share of the work, but must receive a portion of the royalty, i.e., he must have a continuous interest in the sale of the work. 2. He must be a bonâ fide collaborator. Some people suppose that it is sufficient for an American citizen to write a paragraph, or even a sentence only, put his name on the title page with that of the author, and that the copyright is secured. It is not so. In case of such a book being "pirated," he might be called to swear what he wrote before a judge, who would order the “pirate” to take out of the book the paragraph or sentence, or whatever the American wrote, and then advise the "pirate" to help himself to the rest. The collaborator must be able to swear that he is the author of the book

quite as much as the European one, that there is not in the book a single sentence he did not approve of and sign, whether he actually wrote it

or not.

3. The European author must have a contract with his American collaborator, in which the above conditions are set down; and a copy of it must be in the hands of the American publisher.

I think that all the good American publishers would tell you that I am right.

At any rate, these are the conditions on which I have published my "Jonathan and his Continent " in America; and the "pirates," knowing it, have not touched it-to the comfort of

PAUL BLOUËT.

IV. THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.

I have received the first number of The Author, and, on looking through it, it has occurred to me that our members might possibly be interested in the following personal experiences bearing on the question as to whether a book that has practically fallen dead can by any possibility be revived.

The work to which I refer was, on its first appearance, absolutely ignored by the London literary organs of opinion, and the sales in consequence fell, after the advertisements had ceased to appear, to about ten copies a year. This continued

But

for three years, during which time I left no stone unturned in my efforts to bring the book into notice. I sent copies to the number of thirty or more to such of our most eminent thinkers and writers as I deemed most likely to give it a favourable reception; at the same time sending second copies to the editors of the most important literary journals, soliciting a second inspection, and explaining in justification that the work had not been run off at the point of the pen, but had occupied ten years in preparation, and four in actual construction and writing. the eminent writers, as was only to be expected in the case of a work sent to them in formâ pauperis, replied by courteous acknowledgments merely; while my efforts to get a second hearing from the editors completely failed-with the exception of the editor of The Spectator, who, with his usual fairmindedness, and a generosity which I shall not soon forget, at once gave me a long and complimentary review, expressing at the same time his surprise that the work had been allowed to fall through. But it was too long after publication to be of any service; the sales fell lower and lower; and it seemed as if the book would now slip quietly into oblivion.

Meantime one or two of the well-known writers, to whom I had sent private copies, had evidently glanced into the work, and had become sufficiently interested in it to express the opinion that something further ought to be done to try and revive it. After some consideration, and with the consent of the publishers, I determined on my plan of campaign, which was this: to bring out the unsold copies as a new edition; to reduce the price from 145. to 5s. ; to write a fresh preface; and, most important of all, to concentrate and mass together in large advertisements the best extracts I could select from the various scattered notices which in the interim I had succeeded in extorting from more or less unwilling editors!

The effect of this new move was immediate and decisive. The whole unsold edition of some 700 or 800 copies went off at the rate of forty or fifty a month until it was exhausted; the demand increasing rather than diminishing at the time when the last copies were sold out.

The above recital, in view of the common tradition that a book, once practically fallen dead, cannot again be revived, seems to me to have some interest for young authors struggling against adverse fate; and it may perhaps be worth while to ask here to which of the above circumstances the resuscitation of the work was principally due. My own feeling is that it was due not to the reduction of price, for purchasers of that class of work are not much affected by its price, in the first instance at least; nor yet to the press notices taken singly,

although these no doubt were exceptionally strong; but rather to their being massed together so as to catch the eye in large and glaring advertisements. At any rate it was on this theory that I acted at the time, and the event, it must be admitted, fully justified my anticipation. Now, that a work of a serious character, on a wide and all-important subject of human interest, and professing at least to add another story to the hitherto existing superstructures of thought on the same subject; that a book of this kind, I say, should have to save itself from extinction by methods suitable rather to the sale and success of some "Pears' Soap" or "Holloway's Pill," must give rise to considerations on the curious conditions of literary success at the present time well worthy the attention of all thinking minds. J. B. C.

T

LITERARY PUZZLES.

HE Ballad of Bold Turpin is to be found in a volume called "Gaieties and Gravities," written by one of the authors of "Rejected Addresses." The one," I believe, was Horace Smith. It was published in 1825, when Dickens was a boy of fourteen, by Henry Colburn, of New Burlington Street. It occurs in a sketch called "Harry Halter the Highwayman," in which two other efforts in verse also occur-the volumes, indeed, are crammed with verses, sprightly and jolly, and full of mad rhymes. The song, for instance, called "Bachelor's Fare" follows that of "Bold Turpin."

Funny and free are a Bachelor's revelries,
Cheerily, merrily passes his life;
Nothing knows he of connubial devilries,
Troublesome children and clamourous wife,
Free from satiety, care, and anxiety,

Charms in variety fall to his share,
Bacchus's blisses and Venus's kisses,
This, boys, this is the Bachelor's Fare.

A wife like a canister, chattering, clattering,
Tied to a dog for his torment and dread,
All bespattering, bumping and battering,

Hurries and worries him till he is dead.
Old ones are two devils haunted with blue devils,
Young ones are new devils raising despair;
Doctors and nurses combining their curses,

Adieu to full purses and Bachelor's Fare. Through such folly days, once sweet holidays, Soon are embittered by wrangling and strife Wives turn jolly days to melancholy days, All perplexing and vexing one's life.

Children are riotous, maid-servants fly at us,
Mammy to quiet us growls like a bear;
Polly is squalling and Molly is bawling,

While dad is recalling his Bachelor's Fare.

When they are older grown, then they are bolder grown,

Turning your temper and spurning your rule, Girls through foolishness, passion or mulishness, Parry your wishes and marry a fool. Boys will anticipate, lavish and dissipate,

All that your busy pate hoarded with care; Then tell me what jollity, fun or frivolity, Equals in quality Bachelor's Fare?

QUESTIONS, CASES, AND

ANSWERS.

Now that authors have a medium to voice their woes and, let us hope, their victories, we may look forward to many questions of interest being thrashed out. And, in order to set the ball rolling ever so little a distance, may I crave space to point out how as it seems to me-authors can combine and gather strength even in their hours of ease?

In short, what is wanted is an "Authors' Club." There are many clubs in existence which are partly intended for literary men and largely patronised by them; but in every instance where the club is accessible to the mass, other interests have been introduced to the prejudice of literature and the literary profession. In one case, it may be the egotistic actor; in another, the æsthetic or impressionistic painter; in a third, that blight on society-the man who wishes you to remember that he is a tenor. These introduce an element which many authors feel to be jarring, if not actually antagonistic. The general desire is for a Lotos Eater's Land where neither jar nor antagonism is possible; what is really sighed for is "The Authors' Club."

Is not the profession strong enough to support such a club? Cannot the Society of Authors provide the men who will help to make it a success? Who will adopt the idea and give it their personal support and service? The financial details could easily be arranged, if a strong committee were appointed; and if the matter be mooted now, by the time that the evenings draw in and the days grow chill, "The Authors' Club" should be a fait accompli. A. M.

Allow me to bring the following facts before the readersof The Author, About two years ago I

had printed a mathematical work which I brought to a well-known firm for publication in England in conjunction with my Irish publishers. I paid the former £10 for advertising, but all that I ever saw were two or three in the Saturday Review. As a result I find they have practically sold no copies in England, and all that they have sold are about 30 copies in America, from which I infer that advertisement money has been spent there. Consequently nearly all sales of my book were in Ireland, and these have all been effected without any advertisement expenses. At the time of the publication of my book, the author of a book on the same subject as my own was under an apprehension that the sale of the latter might interfere with that of his, and I have reason to believe exerted pressure on his publishers the same as those of my book, not to push or in any way promote the sale of the latter. All that they have done is to sell it in America, which is but a poor return, as, besides the difficulty of getting it off there, I am only allowed barely 50 per cent. of the published price.

A. B.

The following case is submitted with the conviction that it is not by any means an isolated one. A gentleman proposes to the Editor of a Magazine to write a short article on a new book, and the proposal is immediately accepted in writing. The article is sent in, and at the request of the contributor (who is leaving England for some months) the Editor shortly afterwards forwards him a proof of the article and a cheque at the current rate of remuneration. A letter of inquiry from the writer some months afterwards as to why the article has not appeared elicits no information, and it turns out that the article is not published. Has the contributor any claim in this case for the loss of that part of the remuneration which, it need hardly be said, may be indirectly of quite as much pecuniary consequence to him as the moneypayment? In the case of a daily paper a review is, as we all know, liable to be crowded out by press of matter. But is the case of a magazine, that does not in a general way review books, on precisely the same footing?

As an aggravated instance of the business methods described under "Questions and Answers," No. 3, at page 9, of the May number of The Author, I offer the following personal experience. I sent a short story to the Editor of a fairly reputable and outwardly prosperous London periodical, no doubt regarded by its numerous readers as a marvel or enterprise and cheapness, enclosing, as I always

do, a stamped directed envelope for the return of the MS. if not required. I received neither manuscript nor answer of any kind. I wrote repeatedly after waiting some months, when to my surprise I heard quite accidentally through a friend who recognised my nom de plume that my story was then actually being published in the magazine I had sent it to, and which I do not always see. I waited a month or two and wrote for payment. I wrote two or three times more, but from first to last I never had a reply to a single communication. I then got the Secretary of the Society to write, and he very kindly did write a pretty strong letter containing a plain threat of the legal proceedings; that produced an interview with the editor, an apology, and a cheque. The whole affair took about a year. Now does anyone believe that if I had not by the merest fluke found that the story had been printed, I should ever have had the money to this day? I do not. I may add that others have had similar experiences in the same quarter, and the periodical in question continues to be a marvel of enterprise and cheapness.

M. O. H.

What is the true position of affairs in such a case as this? An author (young, struggling, and inexperienced) fires off a composition-say a short story at the editor of a magazine. He either writes with it to say he "encloses a MS. and hopes it will prove suitable," or writes his name and address on the back of it, and sends postage stamps for its return.

The editor "begs to accept it, and encloses a cheque from the proprietors for £5."

A few years later, less young, and perhaps less struggling, the author wishes to republish some of his former efforts in a volume, or has a chance of re-selling them, but is confronted with the difficulty that he really does not know whether he has the right to with regard to a story originally disposed of as indicated above. He asks himself and other persons, "Who has the copyright ?" Has the writer been employed by the proprietor of the magazine ?

Have they a joint ownership?

Has the author sold the copyright right out?
Or has he only sold "serial rights?"

Ought not all books to be dated on the titlepage with the year and month of publication?

Ought not reviewers to state the price of books in reviewing them, and if not, why not?

Is a contributor on the staff of more magazines than one justified in proposing an article on the same subject to them all contemporaneously, and

In answer to your query I am detailing briefly my own experience, and I understand that many other authors have suffered similar treatment. In 1882 I sent an article to (a well-known monthly): it was accepted. peared 17 months afterwards. I was paid, however, directly it appeared.

66

It ap

In 1885 I sent an article to (another well-known monthly), and I heard no more of it. It may have appeared, or it may have been lost. I have never seen it in proof, and I have never been paid for it.

In this year I sent a short story to a journal with a fair reputation and position. They cut it down, and in so doing cut out a small episode-of itelf unimportant to which reference happened to be made twice later on in the story. That is, they made nonsense of my work. They did not pay until three months after printing the story.

They

In 1889 I sent a story to a daily paper. did not accept it or refuse it, or acknowledge it. One day I saw it in print, and three months afterwards I received most inadequate payment for it. It appears, however, that I have no remedy.

A SCRIBBLER.

I sent a story to a weekly journal. They printed it without acknowledgment almost directly afterwards. I wrote a second-not knowing the fortunate fate of the first-and sent it to them. Then I heard that the first one had been printed. I wrote to ask for payment. They did not answer. I wrote again. They did not answer, but printed my second story. Months afterwards, with no apology, I received a cheque for both of them. If these people had accepted my first story in the usual manner, I should have looked for it, and if I had been paid for it at the rate I eventually received for the two, I should have never sent them the second story. I can get more from a daily provincial paper and get my money promptly, as well as have proofs sent to me for correction. The paper was A. E.

"