In the High Street of Edinburgh, not many doors further up than the
premises of the publishers of this Journal, there is a curious
memorial of an old and now generally abolished economic grievance. It
is a portrait of a certain Dr Patrick Anderson, a physician of the
reign of Charles I. It is an old portrait, or rather the
representative of an old portrait, since it has necessarily been
repainted from time to time, the atmosphere of Scotland not being
favourable to the preservation of works of art in the open air. It
serves as the sign of an ancient shop, where for generation after
generation has been sold the medicine known as Andersen's Pills. What
renders the portrait and the establishment with which it is connected
so interesting to our present purpose is, that there is still an
existing patent for the making and selling of Andersen's Pills. In
whose hands it may now be, we are not aware; but we know that, ten
years ago, the right of succession to this patent was the subject of a
keenly-contested litigation. The question of course was--who was
entitled to hold it, as representative of the physician of the reign
of Charles I.? The event is suggestive of the effects that would arise
from extending patents and copyrights over a great series of years, or
to perpetuity, as some have considered desirable. If we suppose the
pills to be a very great blessing, is not every human being as well
entitled, in justice and humanity, to have the benefit of them, as
those who are fighting for the succession? What have they ever done to
deserve a monopoly? If there were a perpetual copyright, who at the
present day would be the representatives of Shakspeare or Milton; and
what right would they have to reap great rewards from the riches with
which the illustrious dead desired to endow all mankind? The inventors
and authors themselves, it is true, deserve reward; and they obtain it
in the shape of the limited monopoly. But the indefinite or very long
continuance of this would only levy a tax to enrich those who have
performed no service, and would fill the country with endless
litigation. To return, however, to our special subject.
It may be a new thing to some of our readers, to hear of a patent more
than two hundred years old. The cause of the anomaly is, that this
exclusive privilege was granted before the present patent-law was
extended to Scotland by the Union. Anderson called the pills _Grana
Angelica_. He published an account of their astonishing virtues in a
little Latin essay, which bears date 1635; and as it is believed that
there are not more than three copies of this in existence, it is worth
more than its weight in gold. He did not profess to be the inventor or
discoverer of the medicine, but stated that he had found it in use at
Venice.
Small as was thus the service for which Anderson and his posterity
were endowed with a perpetual monopoly in these pills, it would have
been well for the Stuart dynasty of kings if all monopolies granted by
them had been as well deserved and as innocent. On the matter of
monopolies, our ancestors had a hard struggle, and they acquitted
themselves like men of sagacity and courage. The word monopoly is
derived from the Greek. It means, sole-selling, and expresses itself
at once. It is almost unnecessary at the present day to announce the
law of political economy, that wherever a small number of individuals
acquire the exclusive privilege of selling any commodity, or
undertaking any particular kind of service, the public will be ill
served. The price demanded will be high, and the commodity or the work
will be bad in proportion. Thus much, indeed, of political economy our
ancestors of the reign of King James knew. But it must be admitted,
that they strangely confounded it with a totally different
matter--with that forestalling of which we lately gave an account. The
difference is, that in the one case there is the right to buy and sell
as much of a commodity, or as little of it, as you please; and, in the
other, the right to be the sole seller of the commodity. It is as
great as the difference between freedom and slavery. No man can ever
obtain a monopoly through money, unless it be by underselling all
others; and that is a form in which it need not be grudged. However
wide may be the field occupied by the forestaller, he cannot prevent
others from competing with him, if he sell so dear that they can
undersell him. The effect of an enforced monopoly is to drive
competitors away, and give the monopolist the whole market on his own
terms.
Many governments raise a revenue by granting monopolies. They levy a
large sum from the individuals to whom they concede the privilege of
selling or making certain articles. It need hardly be said, that it is
a very costly revenue, causing much more loss to the people than the
amount it brings to the public purse; but it is a tempting resource,
as it costs no trouble, and does not at least immediately bring the
government to issue with the country. Queen Elizabeth did not overlook
the convenience of this source of revenue. In fact, she pushed the
system of monopolies very far, and nearly endangered the stability of
her power. But she was a very wise ruler, and always stopped short at
the point of endurance. Hallam gives the following animated account of
a parliamentary contest in 1601. When we reflect on the departed
corn-laws, the allusion to bread is certainly curious.
'The grievance of monopolies had gone on continually increasing;
scarce any article was exempt from these oppressive patents. When a
list of them was read over in the House, a member exclaimed: "Is not
bread among the number?" The House seemed amazed. "Nay," said he, "if
no remedy is found for them, bread will be there before the next
parliament." Every tongue seemed now unloosed, each as if emulously
descanting on the injuries of the place he represented. It was vain
for courtiers to withstand this torrent. Raleigh, no small gainer
himself by some monopolies, after making what excuse he could, offered
to give them up. Robert Cecil, the secretary, and Bacon, talked loudly
of the prerogative, and endeavoured at least to persuade the House,
that it would be fitter to proceed by petition to the queen than by a
bill; but it was properly answered, that nothing had been gained by
petitioning in the last parliament. After four days of eager debate,
and more heat than had ever been witnessed, this ferment was suddenly
appeased by one of those well-timed concessions by which skilful
princes spare themselves the mortification of being overcome.
Elizabeth sent down a message, that she would revoke all grants that
should be found injurious by fair trial at law; and Cecil rendered the
somewhat ambiguous generality of this expression more satisfactory by
an assurance, that the existing patents should be repealed, and no
more be granted.'
The speeches of the members are a very favourable specimen of the
parliamentary oratory of Queen Elizabeth's reign, as may be seen from
the following delivered by Mr Martin. He is no philosopher, it will be
observed, in political economy, but speaks from the actual grievances
witnessed by him. 'I speak for a town that grieves and pines--for a
country that groaneth and languisheth under the burden of monstrous
and unconscionable substitutes to the monopolitans [meaning
sub-monopolists, who paid so much for enjoying the monopoly in a
certain district] of starch, tin, fish, cloth, oil, vinegar, salt, and
I know not what--nay, what not? The principal commodities both of my
town and country are engrossed into the hands of those blood-suckers
of the commonwealth. If a body, Mr Speaker, being let blood, be left
still languishing without any remedy, how can the good estate of that
body long remain? Such is the state of my town and country. The
traffic is taken away. The inward and private commodities are taken
away, and dare not be used without the licence of these monopolitans.
If these blood-suckers be still let alone to suck up the best and
principal commodities which the earth hath given us, what shall become
of us from whom the fruits of our own soil and the commodities of our
own labour--which, with the sweat of our brows, even up to the knees
in mire and dirt, we have laboured for--shall be taken by warrant of
supreme authority which the poor subjects dare not gainsay?' Another
member, Sir Andrew Hobby, on the opposite side, started up, and said,
'that betwixt Michaelmas and St Andrews tide, where salt before the
patent was wont to be sold for 16d. a bushel, it is now sold for 14d.
or 15d. a bushel.'[4]
The Stuart monarchs were not, as the world too well knows, so wise as
Queen Elizabeth. King James found the granting of monopolies a very
convenient way of making a revenue. It saved him from coming in
contact with a discontented parliament; and whatever heartburnings it
might create, did not immediately affect his own royal comfort.
Accordingly, he granted a number of monopolies both of necessaries and
luxuries. This created a system of the grossest oppression; since the
great monopolists not only made as much as they could at the expense
of the people, but sold portions of their monopolies to grasping,
rapacious underlings, who conveyed the grievance into every corner of
the land. These people became a hated and oppressive class, like the
farmers of the revenue in France. According to a well-known anecdote,
Voltaire, when in a company, each member of which had to tell some
tragic story, was called upon in his turn. He said: 'There was once a
farmer-general--you know the rest!' The same might have been said of
the monopolists in the time of King James. One of them, indeed, has
become in a manner illustrious in literature, by standing for the
character of Sir Giles Overreach in the play of _A New Way to Pay Old
Debts_. His prototype was Sir Giles Mompesson, a person whose
oppressions created so much indignation, that parliament at last
resolved to impeach him. In the proceedings, it was stated that Sir
Giles, for the purpose of effectually carrying out his patent of
monopoly, held the power of imprisoning those who infringed it,
without judicial authority or the privilege of trial; and that he thus
had many persons in private prisons--a proceeding ever justly odious
in England, and contrary to the spirit of the constitution.
One of Sir Giles's monopolies related to the licensing of inns and the
selling of horse-provender. Strangely enough, however, that monopoly
which created the chief indignation was for the preparation and sale
of gold and silver lace. He 'sophisticated' it, as the parliamentary
documents call it--that is, he used base metal instead of bullion. One
could imagine such a monopoly existing without the people being
greatly oppressed by it. But gold and silver lace was much used by the
aristocracy, and it seems probable that the indignation of parliament
was considerably excited by feelings of a somewhat personal character.
It is well known, that the person who chiefly supported these
monopolies, and had the largest share of advantage from them, was the
infamous favourite, the Duke of Buckingham. Instead of standing by his
accomplice, however, he no sooner saw the wrath of parliament
seriously and dangerously roused, than he gave up the monopolist as a
victim. King James, too, who had bullied and insulted all who
complained, seeing that parliament was in a truly formidable humour,
went sneaking there, and boasted of having done his best to apprehend
Sir Giles. 'For I do assure you,' he said, 'in the heart of an honest
man, and on the faith of a Christian king, which both ye and all the
world know me to be, had these things been complained of to me before
the parliament, I would have done the office of a just king, and out
of parliament have punished them as severely, and peradventure more,
than ye now intend to do. But now that they are discovered to me in
parliament, I shall be as ready in this way as I should have been in
the other. For, I confess, I am ashamed--these things proving so as
they are generally reported to be--that it was not my good-fortune to
be the only author of the reformation and punishment of them, by some
ordinary course of justice.'
Parliament, however, wisely kept the matter in its own hands, and
immediately passed one of the most remarkable laws in the
statute-book. This was no other than the act of 1623, establishing our
system of patents for inventions. The original and main object of this
act, was to take from the crown the power of granting monopolies. An
exception was introduced, which is supposed to be owing to the
enlightened foresight of Bacon, authorising the crown to grant for a
limited period monopolies to inventors.
This law did not extend to Scotland until the Union; and hence it is,
that in the High Street we have at this day in existence a patent of
the reign of Charles I.