The Man of Letters as a Man of Business | Page 9

met, and the
arrangement becomes fairer and fairer for the publisher. The author has
no right to complain of this, in the case of his first book, which he is
only too grateful to get accepted at all. If it succeeds, he has himself to
blame for making the same arrangement for his second or third; it is his
fault, or else it is his necessity, which is practically the same thing. It
will be business for the publisher to take advantage of his necessity
quite the same as if it were his fault; but I do not say that he will always
do so; I believe he will very often not do so.
At one time there seemed a probability of the enlargement of the
author's gains by subscription publication, and one very well-known
American author prospered fabulously in that way. The percentage
offered by the subscription houses was only about half as much as that
paid by the trade, but the sales were so much greater that the author
could very well afford to take it. Where the book-dealer sold ten, the
book-agent sold a hundred; or at least he did so in the case of Mark
Twain's books; and we all thought it reasonable he could do so with
ours. Such of us as made experiment of him, however, found the facts
illogical. No book of literary quality was made to go by subscription
except Mr. Clemens's books, and I think these went because the

subscription public never knew what good literature they were. This
sort of readers, or buyers, were so used to getting something worthless
for their money, that they would not spend it for artistic fiction, or
indeed for any fiction all, except Mr. Clemens's, which they probably
supposed bad. Some good books of travel had a measurable success
through the book agents, but not at all the success that had been hoped
for; and I believe now the subscription trade again publishes only
compilations, or such works as owe more to the skill of the editor than
the art of the writer. Mr. Clemens himself no longer offers his books to
the public in that way.
It is not common, I think, in this country, to publish on the half-profits
system, but it is very common in England, where, owing probably to
the moisture in the air, which lends a fairy outline to every prospect, it
seems to be peculiarly alluring. One of my own early books was
published there on these terms, which I accepted with the insensate joy
of the young author in getting any terms from a publisher. The book
sold, sold every copy of the small first edition, and in due time the
publisher's statement came. I did not think my half of the profits was
very great, but it seemed a fair division after every imaginable cost had
been charged up against my poor book, and that frail venture had been
made to pay the expenses of composition, corrections, paper, printing,
binding, advertising, and editorial copies. The wonder ought to have
been that there was anything at all coming to me, but I was young and
greedy then, and I really thought there ought to have been more. I was
disappointed, but I made the best of it, of course, and took the account
to the junior partner of the house which employed me, and said that I
should like to draw on him for the sum due me from the London
publishers. He said, Certainly; but after a glance at the account he
smiled and said he supposed I knew how much the sum was? I
answered, Yes; it was eleven pounds nine shillings, was not it? But I
owned at the same time that I never was good at figures, and that I
found English money peculiarly baffling. He laughed now, and said, It
was eleven shillings and nine pence. In fact, after all those charges for
composition, corrections, paper, printing, binding, advertising, and
editorial copies, there was a most ingenious and wholly surprising
charge of ten per cent. commission on sales, which reduced my half
from pounds to shillings, and handsomely increased the publisher's half

in proportion. I do not now dispute the justice of the charge. It was not
the fault of the half-profits system, it was the fault of the glad young
author who did not distinctly inform himself of its mysterious nature in
agreeing to it, and had only to reproach himself if he was finally
disappointed.
But there is always something disappointing in the accounts of
publishers, which I fancy is because authors are strangely constituted,
rather than because publishers are so. I will confess that I have such
inordinate expectations of the sale of my books which I hope I think
modestly