OUR CONTINENTAL CORRESPONDENCE. PARIS, May 11, 1866. I HAVE more than once alluded to the controversy between our authors and publishers in regard to copyright. I have showed you how shamefully underpaid the former, and especially dramatic authors, were. You will consequently read without surprise the following petulance and statements "The artistic and literary tribes, saturated with gas, tired of the deceptions and excitements of the theatre, are already the first people who run beyond the city walls to seek pure air, sincere milk, and charming landscapes. But for most literary men the majority of the landscapes in the neighborhood of Paris are distressing. Good heavens! what horrid landscapes are landscapes in which publishers' country houses are to be discovered! The publisher is the sea-nettle of all thinkers, composers, and writers. We do not speak of musical publishers. Were they active, ardent, ingenious, they must always suffer from the malediction which lies on the art itself. Their life must be hard. Attila said: 'Wherever my horse puts down his foot no grass grows there.' Thus where music goes money never appears under anybody's foot. But where literature appears money goes away with the publisher. All authors-from the most famished authors of antiquity, to the poets of the last ages who begged their bread in kitchens, and to the authors of our day most afflicted with what the Romans called egestas literatorum, which is now familiarly translated hard up,' or 'druked'-all authors have amassed treasures of hatred for these insatiable sea-nettles. Consequently, nothing is more painful to see than the outlines of a handsome country house, or of a vast chateau (they are not few) belonging to a publisher. It is therefore no matter for astonishment if we heartily approve a recent resolution of the Dramatic Authors and Composers' Society. They have established a publishing agency for no other purpose but to enable its members to print and publish under given conditions the plays composed by them which have been acted on the stage. This simple and useful establishment was founded in consequence of an excellent report made by M. Ferdinand Dugué. He says in it: What is the publisher? He is a parasite go-between, who for personal profit interposes between the producer and the buyer. Suppress the go-between, you who are the real producers, and the profits which fell into the hands of this parasite third party will naturally and directly fall into your own hands. . . . The present relations between dramatic author and publisher are generally composed of three periods. The first is that in which the publisher scarcely ever pays-nay, often makes the author pay him for publishing. You commence your career of dramatic author. Your first piece has been played. It has succeeded modestly; delighted with this success, confident of the future, you pant to see your piece in print. You wait for the publisher's visit, and as he does not call on you, you call on him. He begins by refusing to listen to your propositions. You insist, you almost beg, and it is not unprecedented he at last agrees to publish you for nothing. But as a play is a very bad speculation, as this sort of goods has no market, as the returns of the sales will not cover the cost of publication (such is the language of the publisher) you surrender to him share of your provincial copyright, which share of the copyright belongs like your manuscript in fee-simple to him. The second period is that in which the publisher does sometimes pay. You are no longer the first comer; you have, by dint of labor and talents, consome reputation; he now proposes you to

enter into contract with him at so much an act for five or six years. During the third period the publisher opens his purse; he bleeds, he pays! Ay, he even pays very dearly, and the reason is selfevident. He finds the author in possession of fame and glory; he knows the sale is sure, and the profits will be enormous. The more he pays, the greater will be his profits. The trade of dramatic publisher has this peculiar advantage: he never risks anything; all his speculations are sure to be profitable; he lends only to success, and this success, which emanates from you, which is due only to you, this success which ought by rights to belong entirely to you, will yield to the go-between ten, twenty, a hundred times more money than he gave you as your share of the copyright.' The objection may be made to M. Dugué: Do you wish the author to become publisher, and abandon his time and peace to the most fickle chance of success? Do you not see that in appealing to this go-between, which you would thrust aside, the author averts all care and all peril from himself? If he has hereafter wings, the publisher's shop will have served him for rest during his callow days. If he be unable to fly, this nest will have protected him against all grievous falls? M. Dugué replies to these objections by his plan, which is now carried into execution: his agency patronized and superintended by the Society of Authors. In this way the author is not obliged to become publisher. As for the question of risks, he states and resolves them in this way: The cost of a last piece, such as is sold for 60c., is 125f. for 1000 copies, and nets when sold, after deducting 40 per cent. for general expenses, 460f.; consequently, if the author sells 275 copies, he covers all expenses, and if he sells the whole 1000 copies, he has 725f. clear profit. The cost of a two or three act piece, such as is sold for lf., costs 200f. the 1000 copies, and nets when sold, after 40 per cent. have been deducted for general expenses, 600f. ; consequently, if the author sells 335 copies, he covers all expenses; if he sells the whole 1000 copies, he pockets 665f. clear profit. The cost of a piece in four or five acts, such as is sold for 1f. 50c., is 315f. the 1000 copies, and nets when sold, after 40 per cent. have been deducted, 900f.; if the author sells 350 copies, he covers all expenses; if he sells the whole 1000, he pockets 650f. clear profit. I add,' continues M. Dugué, and this is a most important fact, there is always a rapid, sure, as it were forced sale of 350 or 500 copies of every piece played in Paris. The expenses of the agency are set down for the present at 15 per cent. The general agent is M. Louis Lacour, who is himself a literary man, and not one of the least erudite among them. Dramatic authors may consequently be assured their interests are in every respect in the best possible hands. He gives them, moreover, another important guarantee: he has no rural tastes; he will buy no country-house.'"

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I have not, for want of space, noticed the mournful condition of M. Charles Baudelaire, a poet who has attracted notice by his skill in the use of language, and by his extravagant eccentricities, and by his translation of Poe's tales. He is of good family, and not so dependent upon fortune as is commonly believed. His friends declare he "still has $8,000 left of his estate;" but I am afraid he is a good deal in debt, for he lives at Brussels, although he (with the narrow spirit of the French, which makes them uneasy everywhere away from the Boulevard des Italiens) hates Brussels, Belgium, and the Belgians. He has nearly completed a satirical work on that hospitable country, by way of paying for the protection it afforded him; it was to be entitled "Poor Belgium !" All of his friends rejoice

this calumny has not appeared in print. It seems he returned one day from a party of friends in excellent spirits: he had never been more agreeable. Upon reaching his lodgings he became giddy, and fell on the floor, unable to move hand or foot. He lay in this way for some time, until the servant entered the room. He was at once conveyed to the hospital. His disease was paralysis, but attended with most extraordinary complications. It is said, to depict the character of the man, he heard this announcement with some pleasure; even in his diseases he was different from most men! His family were summoned from Paris. His mother, having married a second time, is the wife of General Aupick, a French senator. He was removed from the hospital, and made as comfortable as may be. He lies not alive, nor yet quite dead. He can utter but two words-yes and no. His mind is not entirely extinguished, but even about this, there are conflicting opinions. It seems beyond hope he can ever leave his bed again. He will be for the rest of his life a paralytic idiot. He is still unable to bear the journey from Brussels to Paris. It is believed he cannot live many weeks longer.

I regret to record the death of M. Paulin Deslandes. He was originally a singer at the Opera Comique; having lost his voice, he became a dramatic author, and wrote some fifty comedies, dramas, and vaudevilles, some of which were highly successful; for instance, "La Poissade" ran 100 nights.

M. Gustave Doré, to give M. Théophile Gautier a token of gratitude for the pains he has taken ever since M. Doré made his appearance in the world of art, has illustrated M. Gautier's last work, "Le Capitaine Fracasse."

It is stated by a great many people we will see Prince de Talleyrand's Memoirs published this fall. I have been unable to ascertain the truth on the subject. It was positively stated, at M. de Bacourt's death, he had provided in his will they should not be published for many-if I remember rightly, thirty-years. But the Duchess de Dino, Talleyrand's niece, was invested, it was believed, with a veto upon this provision of the will, and she has annulled it. The work, it is said, will simultaneously be printed at London, Vienna, and here. I am told voluminous memoirs about Prince von Schwartzenberg are upon the eve of being published at Vienna; and about Prince von Hartdenberg will soon appear at Berlin. M. Guizot has returned to his estate, Val Richer, near Lisieux; before he quitted Paris he corrected the last sheets of the 22d volume of his "Religious Meditations," which will appear in the course of a few days. The seventh volume of his Memoirs will not be published until next spring; they will narrate the story of his life until the 20th February, 1848-the eve of the Revolution. The eighth volume, describing that catastrophe, and bringing down the work to M. Guizot's death, will not appear until his life closes. It is said his correspondence will be published after this mournful event; his correspondence will be extremely interesting-no less than 1200 letters from Louis Philippe upon every event which has taken place from 1840 to 1848. His faith in his father's creed is firmer than ever. M. Victor Hugo has written to one of his friends here an interesting commentary on his last work, "Ocean's Laborers." He says: "I sought to glorify labor, will, devotion-everything which makes man great. I wished to demonstrate the most implacable of abysses in the heart, and that what escapes the sea does not escape woman. I wished to demonstrate that in questions of love Do Everything is vanquished by Do Nothing-Gilliatt by Ebenezer. I sought to demonstrate that to will and to compre

The French emperor's "History of Julius Cæsar" has advanced one step towards completion; the second volume, an octavo of 585 pages, containing the third and fourth books of the work, has appeared; it ends with he passage of the Rubicon. The walls of Paris, are covered with a glaring handbill announcing the publication of a work in answer to M. Rénan's volumes; it has a title which offends good taste-"Jesus Christ Crucified by Ernest Rénan." A story is current which well illustrates the character of M. Rénan's success: A lady received a call from one of her intimate friends; She ordered the servant to say, "Madam begs you will be so good as to excuse her; she is reading an interesting novel, and cannot lay down the book until she finds out how the story ends." The story was M. Rénan's "Life of Jesus." This week Messrs. Lacroix & Co. sold all the copies of "Ocean's Laborers;" the "Evenement" required 7,700 copies to supply the calls of its subscribers, and it was necessary these copies should be delivered within 48 hours. Messrs. Lahure & Co., the well-known printers, undertook the contract, and performed it within the agreed time. These three volumes contained 62 sheets of 16 pages each; say, multiplying them by 7,700 copies, 477,400 sheets, and 7,638,400 pages; which, if put end to end, would stretch out 286,440 yards. These printers fulfilled this contract without interrupting the accustomed business of the office.

M. Jules Janin has been "received" at Le Caveau, the famous convivial society, celebrated by Desaugiers, Beranger, and many other song-writers. M. Clairville, the gay vaudeville writer, the president of the night, greeted him with a merry song. It is still a disputed question here whether Jean Jacques Rousseau died a natural death or fell by his own hand. A recent dissertation by Dr. Dubois (d'Amiens), Perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Medicine, argues Rousseau committed suicide. M. Louis Blanc is suing the Count de Cambaceres and M. Leprince, his publisher. The Count de Cambaceres agreed to furnish M. Leprince, the publisher, money enough to bring out M. Louis Blanc's "History of the French Revolution" in numbers, at two cents each, and to pay M. Louis Blanc $1,000 a volume, copyright. The first volume appeared; but the speculation, so far from being as profitable as it was hoped, barely covered expenses, and the Count de Cambaceres closed his purse to author and publisher. They both have appealed to the law for her lever to force it open.

A French author went into ecstasies the other week over "that noble line of Sir Thomas More's, the celebrated Irish poet, monody, 'We left him alone in his glory!" These French! . . The French newspapers mention, in biographical notice of Mr. Peabody of London, it was at his expen Dr. Kane's expedition to search for Sir John Fran