London and the Making of Provincial Literature. Joseph Rezek
to testify any other feeling than respect for the writers of it. The tone of candour throughout cannot fail to draw forth these feelings—and we hope we may have from time to time the pleasure of your correspondence.”34 Even though flattery is standard on the occasion of an apology, in calling this “pleasure,” Cadell was clearly working hard to control the damage incurred by thus annoying his new associate. He may also have been motivated by a desire to vindicate his employer, Constable, whose authority Carey invoked in his earlier letter. “[O]ur Mr. Constable has been, from bad health unable to attend to business for 18 months past,” Cadell informed Carey, in perhaps a slight admission of his own guilt in mismanaging the situation.35 Indeed, only a few days earlier, Constable had written to Cadell with some bewilderment about their American connections: “I have many applications for copies to send abroad, of Peveril of the Peak, but being ignorant of the arrangements that have been made, am prevented from giving even a satisfactory answer.”36 America was clearly Cadell’s territory, not Constable’s, and he further sought to smooth things over by providing a document certifying Wardle’s purchase of the novels since Ivanhoe. Wardle traveled all the way to London to secure this confirmation, even though his services as a middleman were no longer required.37
Though it was relatively straightforward to resolve the dispute over courtesy and honor, the negotiation over pricing proved more difficult, since Cadell lost no time in claiming his firm’s advantage as proprietor. In this perhaps he was encouraged by two new offers from America to pay for advance sheets, which he received from Thomas Dobson and W. G. Gilley at the height of Carey’s problems with The Pirate and Nigel.38 In his defensive reply, Carey had labored to demonstrate the generosity of offering £55 per volume, but in London, John Miller was unable to secure less than £75, or £25 per volume, for the next novel, Peveril of the Peak (1823). “I could not make a better bargain with Constable & Co.,” Miller wrote; “they would not give way in the slightest degree.”39 Carey agreed to this, but Peveril, like the last novels, also proved difficult: Scott wrote an extra volume and Constable insisted on the increased price of £100. This made Carey furious but to no avail. “We think the demands of Messrs. Constable as improper as any we have known,” he wrote to Miller, but still had little choice: “we hope,” he continued, “that you have made some arrangements with them; as it would be in the highest degree vexatious to us to be delayed.”40 Though Carey desired that the novels be sent through Liverpool, subsequent novels were still sent through London, a task managed most often by Miller, acting as the Careys’ agent.41
The distribution of the next novel, Quentin Durward (1823), caused trouble on both sides of the Atlantic. Scott’s eleventh-hour addition of a postscript gave Carey the unwelcome task of defending himself yet again in the National Gazette, where he printed the extra text. On this occasion, Carey revealed his new, direct, and costly arrangement with Constable; confidently attributed any faults of his edition to its source, which, now identifiable, was beyond reproach; and emphasized, once again, that his service to the public resided not in shutting out his own competition but in narrowing the transatlantic time delay:
The American publishers of Quentin Durward have this day received advice from Edinburgh, that a small addition … has been made to the work subsequently to the dispatch of their copy. Having paid Messrs. Constable & Co. a large sum to have the volumes forwarded several days previous to their appearance in London, those gentlemen were pledged to furnish them complete; and their high standing in society warrants the belief that they had no idea of an addition…. Under their present arrangement with the publishers, nothing but so extraordinary a circumstance as the present, could have caused such an error. They hope it will be received as an apology for the omission, that the work was published here in twenty-two days after the day fixed for publication in England, and that no copy except their’s [sic] has yet been received in this country, nor will probably be received for eight or ten days, although published in this city a week since.42
In trumpeting their “present arrangement,” Carey insisted that his circumstances were more reliable than before, even though they still resulted in an incomplete edition. Once again, he trusted that ample compensation for the error lay in his publication of the novel more than a week earlier than would have been possible without the “large sum” he sacrificed for the occasion.
Back in Edinburgh, an episode also involving Quentin Durward demonstrated that great anxiety surrounded the “American Copy” and its transmission. In London, a magazine got its hands on an early copy of the novel and printed copious extracts before it was officially published. Constable and Cadell, furious at the scoop, assumed—wrongly, it turned out—that the “American Copy” was the source of the extracts and shot off a number of accusatory letters. Constable immediately blamed the Careys’ agent for the leak: “Miller’s conduct is most disgraceful,” he wrote to Cadell, “and I now say must be punished.”43 Meanwhile, in a tense correspondence with Cadell, Joseph Robinson, whose firm was formerly the trustee of the “American Copy,” saw fit to vent his feelings about the new arrangement between Constable and the Careys and cast a number of aspersions on Miller, now his rival, who was often in financial trouble and, according to Robinson, was not to be trusted. This clearly wasn’t just about the money. Robinson was indignant:
I think you might in great fairness have continued to give us the [copy] for America at all events it should not have been sent to a London Booksr (3 times a Bankrupt). I confess I felt hurt some weeks ago when told in confidence by a particular friend that he had seen part of Q. D. in the hands of your Confidential Booksellers & Foreign agents…. I will not say all I feel on this head but I think if any Bookseller in London was to be trusted with these sheets it might have been the individual who has been trusted and confided in on many important matters both of business and personal interest.44
The “American Copy” had become a sign of intimacy between booksellers. This was because of the risk of sending the sheets, in vulnerable packages, through London—a metropolis teeming with eager printers and thousands of readers desperate for Scott’s novels. Perhaps Robinson, at that time an established London bookseller, can’t be blamed for reproaching Cadell’s trust in a bunch of Americans. Such scolding apparently was not enough, however. Robinson added a postscript to this letter threatening to complain to Scott himself, by way of Ballantyne. The comments were added quickly, later that night, and written crosswise on the page: “I feel so much hurt about the confidence you have given to Miller & refused to me that I return home this evening not fully decided as to the propriety of my writing or not to the authors agent [Ballantyne] to refer him to you to be informed who it is that violated his engagement. We are the sufferers but you are the sinners.”45 (See figure 1.) As was true of the earlier dispute between Carey and Cadell, a number of nonquantifiable values were at stake, including trust, confidence, and honor.
Robinson’s accusation predictably failed to defuse any tension among this emotional bunch. “Robinson has no right to assume the tone he does,” Cadell wrote to Constable: “what right has he to sulk.”46 Soon Robinson made good on his threat of writing to Ballantyne, and Cadell, writing to Constable, basically lost it:
I cannot but feel much incensed at Robinson’s conduct … now, I do say, that Robinson, our agent—without any share in the book—without having concern with the contracts—or the author, or the risk—or the advance—to have the impertinence to write to Ballantyne accusing us is not to be borne—I say it is a piece of high impudence & effrontery…. I cannot get over Robinson … all I can say is this[:] that I will not be able to submit to it. That we who have large advances—insurances—risks &c to make for the greatest living author are to be brow beaten by one London Commission agent—who only this week before had any right to the book at all—you will be assailed with noise and uproars.47
Figure 1. Joseph Robinson to Archibald Constable, May 3, 1823.
Courtesy of the