Thus happily passed off what appeared to be at one time a threatening position for the British Museum; and it is a subject of hearty congratulation that the would-be disturbers of the public peace were faint-hearted and disorganized, or serious results might have ensued, fraught with danger to human life, and destruction to public buildings and their contents. Had the Museum been really attacked, who can reckon the loss to the Nation? No doubt the energetic precautions taken had much to do with smothering the fire which appeared at one time likely to kindle; and for this there is much reason for us, of the present day, to be thankful to those, who were instrumental in protecting our National Institution.
Again our ground must be shifted; from threatening without, turn we now to tumults within, viz., in the literary world; it is our province to discuss a matter—then, as now, unsettled, and, considering the arguments, pro and con, adduced on its behalf, most difficult of decision. Our subject is the Copyright Act,—with which of course, in his sphere, as custodian of our National gathering of the work of all nations and all epochs, Panizzi was called upon to have intimate acquaintance, as well as dealings, not always pleasant[pleasant] or exhilarating. But—not to anticipate—we proceed to give a slight sketch of the objects and workings of this Act, as then in force, the manner in which it affected the custodian, and the code of strict integrity, regardless of consequence, which he always followed.
From the days of Tudor rule to the present time, the Copyright Act has periodically received the consideration of Parliament; literary men regard as an inalienable right of property products of their brain. In so thinking it would certainly appear primâ facie that their assumption is correct, but a little sound reasoning will prove how capable of modification are ideas hastily formed on this important subject. This subject is now about to be briefly introduced to our readers, not only as especially suitable to this biography, but as of vital interest to all who are members of the great society of letters, and especially referring to Panizzi, on whom devolved the arduous task of enforcing the powers conferred on him by the Act, for the benefit of the British Nation and the world at large.
It is out of the question to enter into minute details of the working of this Act from its origin until now, for there would be no difficulty in filling a volume were particulars to be fully rendered. Suffice it to say that the first obligation to give copies of a work to any one was imposed by 14 Car. II., c. 33, s. 16, by which it was enacted, “That every printer shall reserve three printed copies, on the best and largest paper, of every book new printed or reprinted by him with additions, and shall, before any public venting of the said book, bring them to the Master of the Company of Stationers, and deliver them to him, one whereof shall be delivered to the Keeper of His Majesty’s Library, and the other two to be sent to the Vice-Chancellors of the two Universities respectively for the use of the public libraries of the said Universities.”
The Statute underwent additions and modifications from this time, being at some periods allowed to expire altogether, as it did on the 25th of April, 1694. But, literary property being openly and frequently pirated, a remedy was urged upon the Legislature as necessary in the years 1703, 1706, and 1709. A bill was introduced by Mr. Wortley, and finally passed in the latter year. It is the 8 Anne, c. 21; the fifth section of it enacting “That nine copies of each book or books”[books”] ... “shall be delivered to the warehouse-keeper of the Company of Stationers for the time being,” ... “for the use of the Royal Library, the Libraries of the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, the Libraries of the four Universities of Scotland, the Library of Sion College in London, and the Library commonly called the Library belonging to the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh respectively.”
To evade this Act, publishers entered only the title of a part, or a volume of any work, as it was generally understood that the claims could be enforced only as to the part or volume entered, and that nine copies of no other volume or part could be claimed; and so, as the Act was practically eluded, enactment followed enactment, until the 5 and 6 Victoria, c. 45, made a very definite provision on the subject; not only ordering the delivery at the British Museum of all books, but particularizing the meaning of the word book: “That in the construction of this Act, the word Book shall be construed to mean and include every volume, part or division of a volume, pamphlet, sheet of letter-press, sheet of music, map, chart, or plan separately published,” a penalty of £5., besides the value of the copy, being the fine for non-compliance.
In May, 1850, the Trustees conferred on Panizzi, by power of attorney, the unthankful duty of enforcing, in their name, the provisions of the Copyright Act. With his accustomed energy, with a firm sense of duty, and with a zeal, in some instances almost amounting to harshness, did he face the difficulties of the situation. Were it simply to record the success which attended his devotion to the interests of the Institution he served so faithfully, we should have to quote his own words. “The Trustees testified to their sense of the value of my services in this matter by awarding me £100 a year;” but, as must be admitted on the testimony of documents now before us, in his own handwriting, his zeal was rather excessive; his battles with the publishers brought him odium, and, at times, even personal vituperation, although he himself undoubtedly intended to act with forbearance, and with that courtesy which was one of his chief characteristics. Did it ever occur to Panizzi that the noblest literature, that of Greece and Rome, knew no such law? that, even supposing it might be necessary, in the nascent state of literature in the sixteenth century, this more than protection may be most injurious in more modern times, exactly as the state protection of a given manufacture might primarily be good, but, for a permanency, would be unsound policy?
On April 20th, 1852, Panizzi wrote:—
“Mr. Panizzi cannot help feeling that, in deference to the wish of the Trustees, he has proceeded with too much leniency in the enforcement of the Act. Respectable publishers, who cheerfully and punctually comply with its provisions, as well as the readers who are disappointed in not finding English publications in this library, seem to have a right to more severe measures, not only towards refractory publishers within the bills of mortality, but against those living in the country against whom Mr. Panizzi will at last be forced to employ the means which were some time ago approved of by the Trustees for securing their right to books published out of London.”
These words as they stand clearly show the real state of Panizzi’s inward determination to persevere in his object; and on the 14th of August, 1852, we find a letter from the Principal Librarian, approving of the steps he had “taken for the enforcement of the Copyright Act in Scotland,” on the part of the Trustees.