the perpetual enjoyment of his book that his neighbor has in regard to the
house he has built? The answer is, that the rights of the parties are
entirely different. The man who builds a house quarries the stone and
makes the bricks of which it is composed, or he pays another for doing it
for him. When finished, his house is all, materials and workmanship, his
own. The man who makes a book uses the common property of mankind, and all
he furnishes is the workmanship. Society permits him to use its property,
but it is on condition that, after a certain time, the whole shall become
part of the common stock. To find a parallel case, let it be supposed that
liberal men should, out of their earnings, place at the disposal of the
people of your town stone, bricks, and lumber, in quantity sufficient to
find accommodation for hundreds of people that were unable to provide for
themselves; next suppose that in this state of things your authorities
should say to any man or men, "Take these materials, and procure lime in
quantity sufficient to build a house; employ carpenters, bricklayers, and
architects, and then, in consideration of having found the lime and the
workmanship, you shall have a right to charge your own price to every
person who may, for all times, desire to occupy a room in it "; would this
be doing justice to the men who had given the raw materials for public
use? Would it be doing justice to the community by which they had been
given? Would it not, on the contrary, be the height of injustice?
Unquestionably it would, and it would raise a storm that would speedily
displace the men who had thus abused their trust. Their successors would
then say: "Messrs.---- our predecessors, did what they had no right to
do. These materials are common property. They were given without fee or
reward, with a view to benefit the whole people of our town, many of whom
are badly accommodated, while others are heavily taxed for helping those
who are unable to help themselves. To carry out the views of the
benevolent men to whom we are indebted for all these stone, bricks, and
lumber, they must remain common property. You may, if you will, convert
them into a house, and, in consideration of the labor and skill required
for so doing, we will grant you, during a certain time, the privilege of
letting the rooms, at your own price, to those who desire to occupy them;
but at the close of that time the building must become common property, to
be disposed of as we please." This is exactly what the community says to
the gentlemen who employ themselves in converting its common property into
books, and to say more would be doing great injustice.
The length of time for which the building should be thus granted would
depend upon the number of persons that would be likely to use the rooms,
and the prices they would be willing to pay. If lodgers were likely to be
few and poor, a long time would be required to be given; but if, on the
contrary, the community were so great and prosperous as to render it
certain that all the rooms would be occupied every day in the year, and at
such prices as would speedily repay the labor and skill that had been
required, the time allowed would be short. Here, as we see, the course of
things would be entirely different from that which is observed in regard
to books, the monopoly of which has increased in length with the growth,
in wealth and number, of the consumers, and is now attempted, by the aid
of international copyright, to be extended over millions of men who are
yet exempt from its operation.
The people of this country own a vast quantity of wild land, which by slow
degrees acquires a money value, that value being due to the contributions
of thousands and tens of thousands of people who are constantly making
roads towards them, and thus facilitating the exchange of such commodities
as may be raised from them. These lands are common property, but the whole
body of their owners has agreed that whenever any one of their number
desires to purchase out the interest of his partners he may do so at $1.25
per acre. They do not _give_ him any of the common property; they require
him to purchase and pay for it.
With authors they pursue a more liberal course. They say: "We have
extensive fields in which hundreds of thousands of men have labored for
many centuries. They were at first wild lands, as wild as those of the
neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains, but this vast body of laborers has
felled the trees and drained the swamps, and has thus removed nearly all
the difficulties that stood opposed to profitable cultivation. They have
also' opened mines of incalculable richness; mines of gold, silver, lead,
copper, iron, and other metals, and all of these are common property. The
men who executed these important works were our slaves, ill fed, worse
clothed, and still worse lodged; and thousands of the most laborious and
useful of them have perished of disease and starvation. Great as are the
improvements already made, their number is constantly increasing, for we
continue to employ such slaves--active, intelligent, and useful men--
in extending them, and scarcely a day elapses that does not bring to light
some new discovery, tending greatly to increase the value of _our common
property_. We invite you, gentlemen, to come and cultivate these lands and
work these mines. They are free to all. During the long period of
forty-two years you shall have the whole product of your labor, and all we
shall ask of you, at the close of that period, will be that you leave
behind the common property of which we are now possessed, increased by the
addition of such machinery as you may yourselves have made. The corn that
you may have extracted, and the gold and silver that you may have mined
during that long period, will be the property of yourselves, your wives,
and your children. We charge no rent for the use of the lands, no wages
for the labor of our slaves." Not satisfied with this, however, the
persons who work these rich fields and mines claim to be absolute owners,
not only of all the gold and silver they extract, but of all the machinery
they construct out of the common property; and out of this claim grows the
treaty now before the Senate.
If justice requires the admission of foreigners to the enjoyment of a
monopoly of the sale of their books it should be conceded at once to all,
and it should be declared that no book should be printed here without the
consent of its author, let him be Englishman, Frenchman, German, Russian,
or Hindoo. This would certainly greatly increase the difficulty now
existing in relation to the dissemination of knowledge; but if justice
does require it let it be done. Would it, however, benefit the men who
have real claims on our consideration? Let us see. A German devotes his
life to the study of the history of his country, and at length produces a
work of great value, but of proportional size. Real justice says that his
work may not be used without his permission; that the facts he has brought
to light from among the vast masses of original documents he has examined
are his property, and can be published by none others but himself. The
legislation, whose aid is invoked in the name of justice by literary men,
speaks, however, very differently. It says: "This work is very cumbrous.
To establish his views this man has gone into great detail. If translated,
his book will scarcely sell to such extent as to pay the labor. The facts
are common property. Out of this book you can make one that will be much
more readable, and that will sell, for it will not be of more than one
third the size. Take it, then, and extract all you need, and you will do
well. You will have, too, another advantage. Translation confers no
reputation; but an _original_ work, such as I now recommend to you, will
give you such a standing as may lead you on to fortune. Few people know
any thing of the original work, and it will not be necessary for you to
mention that all your materials are thence derived." On the other hand, a
lady who has read the work of this poor German finds in it an episode that
she expands into a novel, which sells rapidly, and she reaps at home a
large reward for her labors; while the man who gave her the idea starves
in a garret. A literary friend of the lady novelist, delighted with her
success, finds in his countrywoman's treasury of facts the material for a
poem out of which he, too, reaps a harvest. Both of these are protected by
international copyright, _because they have furnished nothing but the
clothing of ideas;_ but the man who supplied them with the ideas finds
that his book is condensed abroad, and given to the public, perhaps,
without even the mention of his name.
The whole tendency of the existing system is to give the largest reward to
those whose labors are lightest, and the smallest to those whose labors
are most severe; and every extension of it must necessarily look in that
direction. The "Mysteries of Paris" were a fortune to Eugene Sue, and
"Uncle Tom's Cabin" has been one to Mrs. Stowe. Byron had 2,000 guineas
for a volume of "Childe Harold," and Moore 3,000 for his "Lalla Rookh;"
and yet a single year should have more than sufficed for the production of
any one of them. Under a system of international copyright, Dumas, already
so largely paid, would be protected, whereas Thierry, who sacrificed his
sight to the gratification of his thirst for knowledge, would not.
Humboldt, the philosopher _par excellence_ of the age, would not, because
he furnishes his readers with things, and not with words alone. Of the
books that record his observations on this continent, but a part has, I
believe, been translated into English, and of these but a small portion
has been republished in this country, although to be had without claim for
copyright. In England their sale has been small, and can have done little
more than pay the cost of translation and publication. Had it been
required to pay for the privilege of translation, but a small part of
even those which have been republished would probably have ever seen the
light in any but the language of the author. This great man inherited a
handsome property which he devoted to the advancement of science, and what
has been his pecuniary reward may be seen in the following statement,
derived from an address recently delivered in New York:--
"There are now living in Europe two very distinguished men, barons, both
very eminent in their line, both known to the whole civilized world; one
is Baron Rothschild, and the other Baron Humboldt; one distinguished for
the accumulation of wealth, the other for the accumulation of knowledge.
What are the possessions of the philosopher? Why, sir, I heard a gentleman
whom I have seen here this afternoon, say that, on a recent visit to
Europe, he paid his respects to that distinguished philosopher, and was
admitted to an audience. He found him, at the age of 84 years, fresh and
vigorous, in a small room, nicely sanded, with a large deal table
uncovered in the midst of that room, containing his books and writing
apparatus. Adjoining this, was a small bed-room, in which he slept. Here
this eminent philosopher received a visitor from the United States. He
conversed with him; he spoke of his works. 'My works,' said he, 'you will
find in the adjoining library, but I am too poor to own a copy of them. I
have not the means to buy a full copy of my own works.'"
After having furnished to the gentlemen who produce books more of the
material of which books are composed than has ever been furnished by any
other man, this illustrious man finds himself, at the close of life,
altogether dependent on the bounty of the Prussian government, which
allows him, as I have heard, less than five hundred dollars a year. In
what manner, now, would Humboldt be benefited by international copyright?
I know of none; but it is very plain to see that Dumas, Victor Hugo, and
George Sand, might derive from it immense revenues. In confirmation of
this view, I here ask you to review the names of the persons who urge most
anxiously the change of system that is now proposed, and see if you can
find in it the name of a single man who has done any thing to extend the
domain of knowledge. I think you will not. Next look and see if you do not
find in it the names of those who furnish the world with new forms of old
ideas, and are largely paid for so doing. The most active advocate of
international copyright is Mr. Dickens, who is said to realize $70,000 per
annum from the sale of works whose composition is little more than
amusement for his leisure hours. In this country, the only attempt that
has yet been made to restrict the right of translation is in a suit now
before the courts, for compensation for the privilege of converting into
German a work that has yielded the largest compensation that the world has
yet known for the same quantity of literary labor.
We are constantly told that regard to the interests of science requires
that we should protect and enlarge the rights of authors; but does science
make any such claim for herself? I doubt it. Men who make additions to
science know well that they have, and can have, no rights whatever. Cuvier
died very poor, and all the copyright that could have been given to him or
Humboldt would not have enriched either the one or the other. Laplace knew
well that his great work could yield him nothing. Our own Bowditch
translated it as a labor of love, and left by his will the means required
for its publication. The gentlemen who advocate the interests of science
are literary men who use the facts and ideas furnished by scientific men,
paying nothing for their use. Now, literature is a most honorable
profession, and the gentlemen engaged in it are entitled not only to the
respect and consideration of their fellow-men, but also to the protection
of the law; but in granting it, the legislator is bound to recollect, that
justice to the men who furnish the raw materials of books, and justice to
the community that owns those raw materials, require that protection shall
not, either in point of space or time, be greater than is required for
giving the producer of books a full and fair compensation for his labor.
How the present system operates in regard to English and American authors,
I propose to consider in another letter.
LETTER III.
We are assured that justice requires the admission of foreign authors to
the privilege of copyright, and in support of the claim that she presents
are frequently informed of the extreme poverty of many highly popular
English writers. Mrs. Inchbald, so well known as author of the "Simple
Story" and other novels, as well as in her capacity of editor, dragged on,
as we are told, to the age of sixty, a miserable existence, living always
in mean lodgings, and suffering frequently from want of the common
comforts of life. Lady Morgan, so well known as Miss Owenson, a brilliant
and accomplished woman, is now to some extent dependent upon the public
charity, administered in the form of a pension of less than five hundred
dollars a year. Mrs. Hemans, the universally admired poetess, lived and
died in poverty. Laman Blanchard lost his senses and committed suicide in
consequence of being compelled, by his extreme poverty, to the effort of
writing an article for a periodical while his wife lay a corpse in the
house. Miss Mitford, so well known to all of us, found herself, after a
life of close economy, so greatly reduced as to have been under the
necessity of applying to her American readers for means to extricate her
little property from the rude hands of the sheriff. Like Lady Morgan, she
is now a public pensioner. Leigh Hunt is likewise dependent on the public
charity. Tom Hood, so well known by his "Song of a Shirt"--the delight
of his readers, and a mine of wealth to his publishers; a man without
vices, and of untiring industry--lived always from day to day on the
produce of his labor. On his death-bed, when his lungs were so worn with
consumption that he could breathe only through a silver tube, he was
obliged to be propped up with pillows, and, with shaking hand and dizzy
head, force himself to the task of amusing his readers, that he might
thereby obtain bread for his unhappy wife and children. With all his
reputation, Moore found it difficult to support his family, and all the
comfort of his declining years was due to the charity of his friend, Lord
Lansdowne. In one of his letters from Germany, Campbell expresses himself
transported with joy at hearing that a double edition of his poems had
just been published in London. "This unexpected fifty pounds," says he,
"saves me from jail." Haynes Bayley died in extreme poverty. Similar
statements are furnished us in relation to numerous others who have, by
the use of their pens, largely contributed to the enjoyment and
instruction of the people of Great Britain. It would, indeed, be difficult
to find very many cases in which it had been otherwise with persons
exclusively dependent on the produce of literary labor. With few and
brilliant exceptions, their condition appears to have been, and to be, one
of almost hopeless poverty. Scarcely any thing short of this, indeed,
would induce the acceptance of the public charity that is occasionally
doled out in the form of pensions on the literary fund.
This is certainly an extraordinary state of things, and one that makes to
our charitable feelings an appeal that is almost irresistible.
Nevertheless, before giving way to such feelings, it would be proper to
examine into the real cause of all this poverty, with a view to satisfy
ourselves if real charity would carry us in the direction now proposed.
The skilful physician always studies the cause of disease before he
determines on the remedy, and this course is quite as necessary in
prescribing for moral as for physical disorder. Failing to do this, we
might increase instead of diminishing the evil, and might find at last
that we had been taxing ourselves in vain.
What is claimed by English authors is perpetuity and universality of
property in the clothing they supply for the body that is furnished to the
world by other and unpaid men; and an examination of the course of
proceeding in that country for the last century and a half shows that each
step that has been taken has been in that direction. While denying to the
producers of facts and ideas any right whatsoever, every act of
legislation has tended to give more and more control over their
dissemination to men who appropriated them to their own use, and brought
them in an attractive form before the reader. Early in the last century
was passed an act well known as the Statute of Queen Anne, giving to
authors fourteen years as the period during which they were to have a
monopoly of the peculiar form of words they chose to adopt in coming
before the world. The number of persons then living in England and Wales,
and subjected to that monopoly, was about five millions. Since that time
the field of its operation has been enlarged, until it now embraces not
only England and Wales, but Scotland, Ireland, and the British colonies,
containing probably thirty-two millions of people who use the English
language. The time, too, has been gradually extended until it now reaches
forty-two years, or thrice the period for which it was originally granted.
Nevertheless, no life is more precarious than that of an Englishman
dependent upon literary pursuits for support. Such men are almost
universally poor, and leading men among them, Tennyson and Sir Francis
Head for instance, gladly accept the public charity, in the form of
pensions for less than five hundred dollars a year. This is not a
consequence of limitation in the field of action, for that is six times
greater than it was when Gay netted £1,600 from a single opera, and Pope
received £6,000 for his "Homer;" five times greater than when Fielding had
£1,000 for his "Amelia;" and four times more than when Robertson had
£4,500 for his "Charles V.," Gibbon £5,000 for the second part of his
history, and McPherson £1,200 for his "Ossian."[1] Since that time money
has become greatly more abundant and less valuable; and if we desired to
compare the reward of these authors with those of the present day, the
former should be trebled in amount, which would give Robertson more than
sixty thousand dollars for a work that is comprised in three 8vo. volumes
of very moderate size. It is not a consequence of limitation of time, for
that has grown from fourteen to forty-two years--more than is required
for any book except, perhaps, one in five or ten thousand. It should not
be a consequence of poverty in the nation, for British writers assure us
that wealth so much abounds that wars are needed to prevent its too rapid
growth, and that foreign loans are indispensable for enabling the people
of Britain to find an outlet for all their vast accumulations. What, then,
is the cause of disease? Why is it that in so wealthy a nation literary
men and women are so generally poor that it should be required to bring
their poverty before the world, to aid in the demand for an extension to
other countries of the monopoly so well secured at home? In that country
the fortunes of wealthy men count by millions, and, that being the case,
an average contribution of a shilling a head towards paying for the
copyright of books, would seem to be the merest trifle to be given in
return for the pleasure and the instruction derived from the perusal of
the works of English authors, and yet even that small sum does not appear
to be paid. Thirty-two millions of shillings make almost eight millions of
dollars; a sum sufficient to give to six hundred authors more than
thirteen thousand dollars a year, being more than half the salary of the
chief magistrate of our Union. Admitting, however, that there were a
thousand authors worthy to be paid, and that would most certainly cover
them all, it would give to each eight thousand dollars, or one third more
than we have been accustomed to allow to men who have devoted their lives
to the service of the public, and have at length risen to be Secretaries
of State. If English authors were thus largely paid, it would be deemed an
absurdity to ask an enlargement of their monopoly; but, as they are not
thus paid, it is asked. There is probably but a single literary man in
England that receives $8,000 a year for his labors, and it may be doubted
if it would be possible to name ten whose annual receipts equal $6,000;
while those of a vast majority of them are under $1,500, and very many of
them greatly under it. Even were we to increase the number of authors to
fifteen hundred, one to every 4,000 males between the ages of 20 and 60 in
the kingdom, and to allow them, on an average, $2,000 per annum, it would
require but three millions of dollars to pay them, and that could be done
by an average contribution of five pence per head of the population, a
wonderfully small amount to be paid for literary labor by a nation
claiming to be the wealthiest in the world. A shilling a head would give
to the whole fifteen hundred salaries nearly equal to those of our
Secretaries; and yet we see clever and industrious men, writers of
eminence whose readers are to be found in every part of the civilized
world, living on in hopeless poverty, and dying with the knowledge that
they are leaving widows and children to the "tender mercies" of a world in
which they themselves have shone and starved. Viewing all these facts, it
may, I think, well be doubted if the annual contributions of the people
subject to the British copyright act for the support of the persons who
produce their books, much exceeds three pence, or six cents, per head; and
here it is that we are to find the real difficulty--one not to be
removed by us. The home market is the important one, whether for words or
things, and when that is bad but little benefit can be derived from any
foreign one; and every effort to extend the latter will, under such
circumstances, be found to result in disappointment. It can act only as a
plaster to conceal the sore, while the sore itself becomes larger and more
dangerous from day to day. To effect a cure, the sore itself must be
examined and its cause removed. To cure the disease so prevalent among
British authors we must first seek for the causes why the home market for
the products of their labor is so very small, and that will be found in
the steadily growing tendency towards centralization, so obvious in every
part of the operations of the British empire. Centralization and
civilization have in all countries, and at all periods of the world, been
opposed to each other, and that such is here the case can, I think,
readily be shown.
[Footnote 1: The several figures here given are from a statement in a
British journal. Whether they are perfectly accurate, or not, I have no
means of determining.]