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, Du