As I am upon this subject, I cannot refrain from making a few remarks upon it, as connected with this country. The price of a book now published is enormous, when the prime cost of paper and printing is considered; the actual value of each three volumes of a moderate edition, which are sold at a guinea and a half, being about four shillings and sixpence, and when the edition is large, as the outlay for putting up the type is the same in both, of course it is even less; but the author must be paid, and upon the present small editions he adds considerably to the price charged upon every volume; then comes the expense of advertising, which is very heavy; the profits of the publisher, and the profits of the trade in general; for every book for which the public pay a guinea and a half, is delivered by the publisher to the trade, that is, to the booksellers, at 1 pound 1 shillings 3 pence. The allowance to the trade, therefore, is the heaviest tax of all; but it is impossible for booksellers to keep establishments, clerks, etcetera, without having indemnification. In all the above items, which so swells up the price of the book, there cannot well be any deduction made.

  Let us examine into the division of profits. I am only making an approximation, but it is quite near enough for the purpose.

  An edition of 1,000 copies at 1 pound 11 shillings 6 pence will give 1,575 pounds.

  Positive Expenses to Publisher.

  Trade allowance of 10 shillings. 3 pence per copy: 512 pounds 10 shillings.

  Extra allowance. 25 for 24-40 copies: 63 pounds.

  Printing and paper, 4 shillings 6 pence per copy: 225 pounds 0 shillings.

  Advertising, equal to 2 shillings per copy: 100 pounds 0 shillings.

  Presentations to Universities and Reviewers, say 30 copies: 47 pounds 5 shillings.

  The author if he is well known, may be said to receive 7 shillings per copy: 250 pounds 0 shillings.

  Leaving for the publisher: 277 pounds 0 shillings.

  Total 1,575 pounds 0 shillings.

  All the first expenses being positive, it follows that the struggle is between the publisher and the author, as to what division shall be made of the remainder. The publisher points out the risk he incurs, and the author his time and necessities; and when it is considered that many authors take more than a year to write a book, it must be acknowledged that the sum paid to them, as I have put it down, is not too great. The risk, however, is with the publisher, and the great profits with the trade, which is perhaps the reason why booksellers often make fortunes, and publishers as often become bankrupts. Generally speaking, however, the two are combined, the sure gain of the bookseller being as a set off against the speculation of the publisher.

  But one thing is certain, the price of books in this country is much too high, and what are the consequences? First, that instead of purchasing books, and putting them into their libraries, people have now formed themselves into societies and book-clubs, or trust entirely to obtaining them from circulating libraries. Without a book is very popular, it is known by the publisher what the sale is likely to be, within perhaps fifty copies; for the book-clubs and libraries will, and must have it, and hardly anybody else will; for who will pay a guinea and a half for a book which may, after all, prove not worth reading! Secondly, it has the effect of the works being reprinted abroad, and sent over to this country; which, of course, decreases the sale of the English edition. At the Custom-House, they now admit English works printed in Paris, at a small duty, when brought over in a person’s luggage for private reading; and these foreign editions are smuggled, and are to be openly purchased at most of the towns along the coast. This cannot be prevented — and as for any international copyright being granted by France or Belgium, I do not think that it ever will be; and if it were, it would be of no avail, for the pirating would then be carried on a little further off in the small German States; and if you drove it to China, it would take place there. We are running after a Will-o’-the-wisp in that expectation. The fault lies in ourselves; the books are too dear, and the question now is, cannot they be made cheaper?

  There is a luxury in printing, to which the English have been so long accustomed, that it would not do to deprive them of it. Besides, bad paper and bad type would make but little difference in the expense of the book, as my calculation will show; but if a three volume work (see Note 3) could be delivered to the public at ten shillings, instead of a guinea and a half, it would not only put a stop to piracy abroad, but the reduced price would induce many hundreds to put it into their library, and be independent of the hurried reading against time, and often against inclination, to which they are subject by book-clubs and circulating libraries; and that this is not the case, is the fault of the public itself, and not of the author, publisher, or any other party.

  It is evident that the only way by which books may be made cheap, is by an extended sale — and “Nicholas Nickleby”, and other works of that description, have proved that a cheap work will have an extended sale — always provided it is a really good one.

  But it is impossible to break through the present arrangements which confine the sale of books, unless the public themselves will take it in hand — if they choose to exert themselves, the low prices may be firmly established with equal benefit to all parties, and with an immense increase in the consumption of paper. To prove that any attempt on the part of an author or publisher will not succeed unaided, it was but a few months ago, that Mr Bentley made the trial, and published the three volumes at one guinea; but he did not sell one copy more — the clubs and libraries took the usual number, and he was compelled to raise his price. The rapid sale of the Standard Novels, which have been read over and over again, when published at the price of five shillings, is another proof that the public has no objection to purchase when the price is within its means.

  I can see but one way by which this great desideratum is to be effected; which is, by the public insuring by subscription any publisher or bookseller from loss, provided he delivers the works at the reduced price. At present, one copy of a book may be said to serve for thirty people at least; but say that it serves for ten, or rather say that you could obtain five thousand, or even a less number, of people to put down their names as subscribers to all new works written by certain named authors, which should be published at the reduced price of ten shillings per copy. Let us see the result.

  A ten shilling work under such auspices would be delivered to the trade at eight shillings.

  The value of the five thousand copies to the publisher would be 2,000 shillings 0 shillings.

  The expenses of printing and paper would be reduced to about 3 shillings a copy, which would be 750 pounds.

  Advertising, as before, 100 pounds.

  Extra 1 shilling 3 pence, 4 shillings, 5 shillings, about 16 pounds, subtotal 866 pounds.

  Leaving a profit for author and publisher of 1,134 pounds 0 shillings.

  Whereas, in the printing of a thousand copies, the profits of author 350 pounds, and of publisher 277 pounds 5 shillings, equalled only 627 pounds 5 shillings.

  Extra profit to author and publisher 506 pounds 15 shillings.

  Here the public would gain, the author would gain, and the publisher would gain; nor would any party lose; the profits of the trade would not be quite so great, being 500 pounds, instead of 575 pounds; but it must be remembered, that there are many who, not being subscribers, would purchase the book as soon as they found that it was approved of — indeed, there is no saying to what extent the sale might prove to be.

  If any one publisher sold books at this price, the effect would be of reducing the price of all publications, for either the authors must apply to the cheap publisher, or the other publishers sell at the same rate, or they would not sell at all. Book-clubs and circulating libraries would then rapidly break up, and we should obtain the great desideratum of cheap literature.

  And now that I have made my statement, what will be the consequence? Why, people will say, “that’s all very well, all very true” — and nobody will take the trouble — the consequence is, that the public will go on, paying through the nose as before — and if so, let it not grumble; as it has no one to thank but itself for it. (See Note 4.)

  The paper and printing in America is, generally speaking, so very inferior, that the books are really not worth binding, and are torn up or thrown away after they are read — not that they cannot print well; for at Boston particularly they turn out very excellent workmanship. Mr Prescott’s “Ferdinand and Isabella”, is a very good specimen, and so are many of the Bibles and Prayer books. In consequence of their own bad printing, and the tax upon English books, there are very few libraries in America: and in this point, the American government should make some alteration, as it will be beneficial to both countries. The English editions, if sent over, would not interfere with the sale of their cheap editions, and it would enable the American gentlemen to collect libraries. The duty, at present, is twenty-six cents per pound, on books in boards, and thirty cents upon bound-books.

  Now, with the exception of school books, upon which the duty should be retained, this duty should be very much reduced.

  At present, all books published prior to 1775, are admitted upon a reduced duty of five cents. This date should be extended to 1810, or 1815, and illustrated works should also be admitted upon the reduced duty. It would be a bonus to the Americans who wish to have libraries, and some advantage to the English booksellers.

  I cannot dismiss this subject without pointing out a most dishonest practice, which has latterly been resorted to in the United States, and which a copyright only, I am afraid, can prevent the continuance of. Works which have become standard authority in England, on account of the purity of their Christian principles, are republished in America with whole pages altered, advantage being taken of the great reputation of the orthodox writers, to disseminate Unitarian and Socinian principles. A friend of mine, residing in Halifax, Nova Scotia, sent to a religious book society at New York for a number of works, as presents to the children attending the Sunday school. He did not examine them, having before read the works in England, and well knowing what ought to have been the contents of each.

  To his surprise, the parents came to him a few days afterwards to return the books, stating that they presumed that he could not be aware of the nature of their contents; and on examination, he found that he had been circulating Unitarian principles among the children, instead of those which he had wished to inculcate. (See Note 5.)

  The press of America, as I have described it, is all powerful; but still it must be borne in mind, that it is but the slave of the majority; which, in its turn, it dare not oppose.

  Such is its tyranny, that it is the dread of the whole community. No one can — no one dare — oppose it; whosoever falls under its displeasure, be he as innocent and as pure as man can be, his doom is sealed. But this power is only delegated by the will of the majority, for let any author in America oppose that will, and he is denounced. You must drink, you must write, not according to your own opinions, or your own thoughts, but as the majority will. (See Note 6.)

  Mr Tocqueville observes, “I know no country in which there is so little true independence of mind, and freedom of discussion, as in America.”

  Note 1. Miss Martineau talks of Dr Follett as one of the greatest men in America. I was surprised at this, as I never heard of his name, so I inquired— “Who is Dr Follett?”— “I don’t know.”— “Do you know Dr Follett?”— “Never heard of him.”— “Do you?”— “No.” I asked so many people that at last I became quite tired; at last I found a man who knew him, his answer was— “Oh, yes; he’s an Abolitionist!” As the American critic justly observes, “He shines in the future pages of his grateful guest.”

  Note 2. The International Copyright Question.

  One of the most important questions, upon principle, that ever was mooted, has for some time placed in juxtaposition the various editors of the corps critical, accordingly as their interests or feelings have been worked upon. Our chief object in these remarks is to hold up to the scorn and derision that it richly merits the assumption of an editor, that an author has no right to the emanations of his own mind — to the productions of his own pen. We do not mean to answer the many and gross absurdities — which this talented gentleman’s sophistry has palmed upon the public, — it would be a work of supererogation, inasmuch as his ‘airy vision’ has already been completely ‘dissolved’ by the breath of that eminent gentleman, well known to us, who has so completely annihilated the wrong which he is so anxious to continue. But the shameful assumption that a writer, universally allowed to be the worst paid artist in creation, should not have — is not entitled to have, by every principle — of courtesy and honour, a sole and undivided right to, and in, his own productions — is so monstrous, that every editor imbued with those feelings, which through life, should be the rule of his conduct, is in duty bound to come forward and express his dissent from such a doctrine, and his abhorrence of a principle so flagitious.

  “We avail ourselves of the opportunity this number affords of upholding the poor author’s right, of censuring the greedy spoliation of publishing tribe, who would live, batten, and fatten upon the despoiled labours of those whom their piracy starves — snatching the scanty crust from their needy mouths to pamper their own insatiate maws.

  “This matter lies between the publisher and the author. The author claims a right to his own productions, wherever they may be. The publishers, like the Cornwall wreckers, say no, the moment your labours touch our fatal shore they are ours; you have no right to them, no title in them. Good heavens! shall such a cruel despoliation be permitted! The publishers, with consummate cunning, turn to the public, and virtually say, support us in our theft, and we will share the spoil with you; we will give you standard works at a price immeasurably below their value. As well might a thief, brought before the honest and worthy recorder say: If your honour will wink at the crime, you will make me a public benefactor, for whilst I rob one man of an hundred watches, I can sell them to an hundred persons for one-third of their prime cost; and thus injure one and benefit a hundred, you shall have one very cheap. What would this recorder say? He would say, the crime is apparent, and I spurn with indignation and contempt your offer to part with to me that which is not your own. And should not this be the reply of the public to the publishers? Yes, and it will be too. And the vampires who have so long lived upon the spirits of authors, will have tax their own to yield themselves support.”

  Note 3. I ought here to remark, that the authors are much injured by the present system. It having been satisfactorily proved, that a three-volume work is the only one that can be published at the minimum of expense, and the magnum of profits, no publisher likes to publish any other. There is the same expense in advertising, etcetera, a two volume, or a one octavo book, as a three. The author, therefore, has to spin out to three volumes, whether he has matter or not; and that is the reason why the second volume, like the fourth act of a five act play, is, generally speaking, so very heavy. Publishers, now-a-days, measure works with a foot-rule, as the critic did in Sterne.

  Note 4. The members of the peerage and baronetage of Great Britain, the members of the untitled aristocracy — the staff officers of the army and navy — the members of the different clubs — are each of them sufficiently numerous to effect this object; and if any subscription was opened, it could not fail of being filled up.

  Note 5. One of those works was Abbot’s ‘Young Christian’, or some other work by that author.

  Note 6. Indeed, one cannot help being reminded of what Beaumarchais makes Figaro say upon the liberty of the press in another country. “On me dit que pendant ma retraite économique il s’est établi dans Madrid un système de liberté sur la vente des productions, qui s’étend même a celles de la presse; et, pourvu que je parle dans mes écrits, ni de l’autorité, ni du culte, ni de la politique, ni de la morale, ni des gens en place, ni des corps en crédit, ni de l’opéra, ni des autres spectacles, ni de personne qui tient a quelque chose, je puis tout imprimer librement; sous l’inspection de deux ou trois censeurs.”

  Chapter Eight.

  The Mississippi.

  I have headed this chapter with the name of the river which flows between the principal States in which the society I am about to depict is to be found; but, at the same time, there are other southern States, such as Alabama and Georgia, which must be included. I shall attempt to draw the line as clearly as I can, for although the territory comprehended is enormous, the population is not one-third of that of the United States, and it would be a great injustice if the description of the society I am about to enter into should be supposed to refer to that of the States in general. It is indeed most peculiar, and arising frow circumstances which will induce me to refer back, that the causes may be explained to the reader. Never, perhaps, in the records of nations was there an instance of a century of such unvarying and unmitigated crime as is to be collected from the history of the turbulent and blood-stained Mississippi. The stream itself appears as if appropriate for the deeds which have been committed. It is not like most rivers, beautiful to the sight, bestowing fertility in its course; not one that the eye loves to dwell upon as it sweeps along, nor can you wander on its bank, or trust yourself without danger to its stream. It is a furious, rapid, desolating torrent, loaded with alluvial soil; and few of those who are received into its waters ever rise again, or can support themselves long on its surface without assistance from some friendly log. It contains the coarsest and most uneatable of fish, such as the cat-fish and such genus, and, as you descend, its banks are occupied with the fetid alligator, while the panther basks at its edge in the cane-brakes, almost impervious to man. Pouring its impetuous waters through wild tracks, covered with trees of little value except for firewood, it sweeps down whole forests in its course, which disappear in tumultuous confusion, whirled away by the stream now loaded with the masses of soil which nourished their roots, often blocking up and changing for a time the channel of the river, which, as if in anger at its being opposed, inundates and devastates the whole country round; and as soon as it forces its way through its former channel, plants in every direction the uprooted monarchs of the forest (upon whose branches the bird will never again perch, or the racoon, the opossum or the squirrel, climb) as traps to the adventurous navigators of its waters by steam, who, borne down upon these concealed dangers which pierce through the planks, very often have not time to steer for and gain the shore before they sink to the bottom. There are no pleasing associations connected with the great common sewer of the western America, which pours out its mud into the Mexican Gulf, polluting the clear blue sea for many miles beyond its mouth. It is a river of desolation; and instead of reminding you, like other beautiful rivers, of an angel which has descended for the benefit of man, you imagine it a devil, whose energies have been only overcome by the wonderful power of steam.