CWCW

Raymond Birn

The Profits of Ideas: Privilèges en librairie in Eighteenth-Century France

Eighteenth-Century Studies, 4 (2),

Winter, 1970-1971, 131-168

Index

Introduction

Colbert’s Program

The Patricate

Natural Rights

Malesherbes’ Tenure

Diderot’s Turn

Ruling of 30 August 1777

 

HHC: Titling and Index added

Introduction

ON 30 AUGUST 1777 - fifteen months after the fall of Turgot and three months into Necker’s first ministry - six royal arrêts overturned the fundamental commercial principles upon which the French book trade had rested for a century.  The first four of these orders suppressed certain provincial communities of sellers and printers, the so-called chambres syndicales, while creating others; revised criteria for accepting master libraires and imprimeurs; established two public sales annually for the disposition of literary property; and ruled on the conduct and discipline of the journeyman printers. [1]  The Sixth arrêt, recognizing how a clique of favored publishers had monopolized the industry by extending over many generations exclusive rights of reproduction, the privileges en librairie, thus reducing less favored colleagues to the recourse of counterfeit editions, now legitimized these editions, provided that owners presented their volumes to a royal inspector or official of the community to be stamped. [2]

But the Fifth arrêt of 30 August was the most significant of all.  For the first time legislation distinguished between the nature of literary property in the hands of an author and in the hands of a publisher.  The privilege, granted to the writer for his labor or to the publisher for his investment, was newly defined.  The arrêt stated that hereafter no first edition could be published in France without either a royal privilege or permission awarded by the keeper of the seals.  Previous legislation had required this of all titles, classics as well as new books.

I wish to express my gratitude to the Fulbright Commission for its financial support in 1968-69, when I conducted the research for this article.  A shorter and somewhat different version was read at the annual meeting of the Society for French Historical Studies, held in Washington, D.C. on 20 March 1970.

1. Bibliothêque Nationale. Fonds Francais 22180, Nrs. 81, 82, 87, 91. 30 August 1777.  See also Isambert, Jourdan, and Decrusy eds., Receuil general des anciennes lois franfaises (Paris, 1922-30), XXIII, 108-28.

2. F. Fr. 22180, Nr. 84. 30 August 1777.

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Yet what was most original about the new ruling was the distinction it made between a privilege possessed by authors or their heirs on the one hand, and publishers on the other.  When owned by the first group, the nature of the privilege was perpetual as well as exclusive.  Retaining it, the writer and his descendants might negotiate freely with a printer and participate in any way deemed desirable and through as many editions as were necessary to effect the distribution and sale of the book in question.  All other parties were restrained from publishing the work.  However, once a publisher purchased the manuscript from its author and assumed responsibility for the edition himself, the royal privilege accompanying the transfer would be valid for a minimum of ten years or the lifetime of the work’s author.  As soon as the publisher’s privilege expired, the work would enter the public domain.  A publisher might renew his privilege only if he had the text of his edition increased by at least one-fourth.  It was assumed that “anciennes éditions non-augmentées” would fall into the public domain whether or not an old privilège protected them.  All publishers were commanded to declare an inventory of privilèges en librairie in their possession so that new determinations on the limits of their validity could be made.  The spirit of the ruling was expressed in language intended to assuage publishers for a sudden loss of property which they held to be as real as a piece of land or a marriageable daughter: “Sa Majesté a pensé qu’un Règlement qui restreindroit le droit exclusif des Libraires au temps qui sera porté dans le Privilège seroit leur avantage, parce qu’une jouissance limitée, mais certaine, est préférable a une jouissance indéfinie, mais illusoire.” [3]

 

Colbert’s Program

The difficulty was that few holders of privileges en librairie in 1777 - or for the past century for that matter - considered their possessions to be illusions.  They were based, it was believed, upon sound theory and concrete example.  Colbert had established the precedent early in the reign of Louis XIV, when, to maintain economic and ideological controls over the librairie, he linked a policy on privileges to two other aspects of his program, censorship, and the limitation and careful surveillance of presses in France.

Authority over censorship, of course, he inherited from predecessors. [4]  When he established a royal board of examiners for theological

3 F. Fr. 22180, Nr. 80. 30 August 1777. Amendments. F. Fr. 22180, Nr. 175. 30 July 1778.

4. No comprehensive study of censorship under the Ancien Régime exists.  Aspects of the problem have been studied, however, either as specialized monographs or as a part of more general works on the book trade and its administration.  In the former category are J.-P. Belin, Le Commerce des livres prohibés à Paris de 1750 et 1789 (Paris, 1913); Albert [Bachman, Censorship in France from 1715-1750: Voltaire’s Opposition (New York, 1934); and Nicole Herrmann-Mascard, La Censure des livres à Paris à la fin de l’Ancien Regimé (1750-1789) (Paris, 1968).  In the latter are Lucien Febvre and Henri-Jean Martin, L’ Apparition du livre (Paris, 1958), pp. 371-75 ; David T. Pottinger, The French Book Trade in the Ancien Régime, 1500-1791 (Cambridge, Mass., 1958), pp. 54-81; Madeleine Ventre, L’Imprimerie et la librairie en Languedoc au dernier siècle de l’Ancien Régime (1700-1789) (Paris and The Hague, 1958), pp. 75-215; Pierre Grosclaude, Malesherbes: témoin et interprète de son temps (Paris, 1961), pp. 63-208, 665-82; and Henri-Jean Martin, Livre, pouvoirs et société à Paris au XVIIe siècle (1598-1701) (Geneva, 1969) I, 440-71; II, 695-98, 764-74.]

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works, Richelieu had made it clear that the Crown no longer intended to share responsibility for censorship with the University and Parlement of Paris.  But the crisis over Jansenism and then the Fronde crippled the effectiveness of royal controls, and it was only with the arrival of Colbert and La Reynie that the monarchy found itself in a position to thrust the full force of its authority behind a comprehensive program of preventive and repressive censorship.  Reading copy in manuscript, the chancellor’s committee of examiners was to decide upon the appropriateness of all works intended for publication in France.  The Community of Sellers and Printers of Paris, founded in 1618, was to cooperate with the examiners and police in investigating the contents of books entering from abroad.  Furthermore, by initiating descents and accompanying royal agents on their raids, the officers of the Paris community were associated closely with the regime in making certain that all provincial sellers and printers were adhering to the regulations.  An arrêt du Conseil sanctioning this last responsibility did much to convert a favored group of libraires from the capital into an auxiliary spy network that would harass the publishers of the country for generations to come. [5]

But a far more serious element in the Colbertian program, since for many it meant disappearance altogether, was the policy of limiting the number of presses in France so that no idle ones would be left to submit to the temptation of prohibited works or counterfeit editions.  Reversing a trend of two centuries, which had seen the imprimerie bloom under the benevolent care of the Crown - not merely in Paris,

5. F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 108. 11 September 1665.  As may be expected, preventive and repressive censorship was a constant preoccupation of the Crown from the reign of Louis XIV until the revolution, and literally hundreds of royal arrêts were promulgated on the subject.  Two comprehensive rulings attempted to coalesce the specific legislation of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.  The first was issued in 1686 (F. Fr. 22061, Nr. 121. “Edit du Roy pour le règlement des imprimeurs et libraires de Paris, avec les autoritez des anciennes ordonnances, statuts, arrests & règlements” Paris, 1687).  Ostensibly intended for the book trade of Paris, it really applied to the entire realm.  The second ruling was issued in 1723 (Isambert, Jourdan, and Decrusy, Recueil général, XXI, 216-31. “Règlement du Conseil pour la librairie & l’imprimerie de Paris. 24 février 1723”).  In 1744 it officially was made applicable for the entire realm (Claude Saugrain, Code de la librairie et de l’imprimerie. Paris, 1744).

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but also in Lyon, Rouen, Toulouse, and Troyes - the regime of Louis XIV placed such restrictions upon the number and size of shops in the capital and provincial towns, that the smallest ones, those most prone to illegal practices, were forced out of existence.  To cite the most celebrated example: in 1666, Paris had 217 presses in 79 shops.  In 1701, 195 presses existed in 51 shops.  The community was told to get this number down to 36 shops, and only one master bookseller would be admitted each year. [6]  Reductions became common policy throughout most of the eighteenth century.  The royal survey of 1701 counted 410 master printers in the provinces; one taken in 1764 counted 254. [7]  In essence, Colbert’s program for the book trade, enacted in a period of economic recession, would have made good sense had it kept France ideologically safe and a limited number of favored printers and sellers occupied and grateful to the government.

Something went wrong, however.  The censorship controls broke down.  Too many French readers desired books printed in the freer climes of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Leyden; and too many French authors were willing to send their manuscripts to be published there.  After the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Calvinist exiles in Holland such as the Desbordes and Huguetan families took ironic vengeance upon Louis XIV by printing and exporting to their former homeland books which, for reasons of state, religion, or public morality, could not be printed in France.  And to compound the problem, the scholarly abbé Bignon, who administered the French librairie in the chancellor’s name during the first two decades of the eighteenth century, often looked the other way when the volumes from Holland arrived.  This double standard in the book trade, so beneficial to Dutch commerce, lasted until the death of Louis XIV. [8]  After 1715, the influx and popularity of the Dutch edition, as well as the development of foreign

6. Martin, Livre, pouvoirs et société, I, 319-26; II, 678-83, 699, 704.  The crisis of recession which helps to explain Colbert’s retrenchment policies from the economic angle has been a fruitful topic for revisionist historians rightly wishing to deglamorize the Sun King’s reign.  Roland Mousnier brilliantly analyzed the background of the crise and the royal response in Les XVIe et XVIIe siècles (“Histoire générale des civilisations”), IV (Paris, 1954), 145-56, 249-56, 297-301; and Robert Mandrou, La France aux XVIIe et XVIlle siècles (Paris, 1967), pp. 113-23, offers a more recent analysis.  Martin related the Paris book trade almost too neatly to the general economic conditions described by his teacher, Mousnier, in an article anticipating the latter’s book, “L’Edition parisienne au XVIIe siècle. Quelques aspects économiques,” Annales. Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations (1952), pp. 303-18.

7. Paul Chauvet, Les Ouvriers du livre en France: des origines à la Revolution (Paris, 1959), p. 213.  An arrêt du Conseil for 1704 called for a reduction of master printers in France to 278 (F. Fr. 22065, Nr. 63. 21 July 1704), and a ruling for 1739 called for a reduction to 250 (F. Fr. 22067, Nr. 206. 31 March 1739).

8. Martin, Livre, pouvoirs et société, II, 739-53.

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publishing centers for books for French consumption in Geneva, Neuchâtel, Brussels, Liège, Bouillon, and, above all, Avignon, forced the regime to re-examine its traditional restrictions upon domestic production.  Malesherbes, chief royal administrator for the book trade at mid-century, gives a hint of what occurred: “II s’est trouvé des circonstances où on n’a pas osé autoriser publiquement un livre, & où cependant on a senti qu’il ne serait pas possible de le déendre.  C’est ce qui a donné lieu aux premieres permissions tacites.” [9]  In 1718, the officers of the Paris community listed the initial permissions tacites in a register misleadingly labelled “Des Livres d’impression étrangère présentez pour la permission de débiter.” [10]  These formed a category of books wholly outside the purview of customary regulations.  Some were printed abroad and imported; most were published in France.  No privilège protected the publisher from other editions.  The censor who examined the volume applying for a permission tacite remained anonymous.  Sporadically awarded before 1750, the permission tacite became more commonplace in the Enlightenment.  La Pucelle, De l’Esprit des lois, Le Siècle de Louis XIV, the last ten volumes of the Encyclopédie, and all the periodical literature except the three official journals, were among the recipients of permissions tacites.  They lowered the price of intellectual liberation.  Moreover, without them, the librairie in France would have sunk lower than it did into the quagmire of monopoly.

As it stood, Colbert’s privilege system conspired with the policy of reducing the number of presses to create, by the beginning of the eighteenth century, a book trade thoroughly dominated by a handful of Paris libraires-imprimeurs, who dictated contracts with authors while rendering colleagues in the capital and provinces submissive and economically impotent.  These favored publishers, customarily the officers of the Paris Community of Sellers and Printers, formed a patriciate closely associated with the regime - registering privilèges and permits, as imprimeurs du Roi dividing monopolies over the publication of government documents, and, above all, obtaining exclusive privileges for as many books as possible, old titles and new ones, classics, and best sellers. [11]

9. C.-G. Lamoignon de Malesherbes, Mémoires sur la librairie et sur la liberté de la presse (Paris, 1809), p. 249.

10. F. Fr. 21990.

11. As the foremost economic consideration of French publishers of the Ancien Regimé, the privilège en librairie has not escaped the attention of scholars.  During the second half of the nineteenth century the historiography of the privilèges was marred by the fact that those who approached the subject did so to justify personal positions in the then current debate over perpetual copyright.  For example, Edouard Laboulaye and Georges [Guiffrey defended the principle of perpetual copyright by stressing the need for re­establishing continuity with tradition - that is, with their interpretation of pre-1777 tradition.  They stressed the principle that under the Ancien Régime an author and his heirs might retain a privilege ad infinitum, and that, until 1777, publishers justifiably might expect identical protection.  By employing historical precedent to defend the ambitions of publishers of their own day, however, Laboulaye and Guiffrey neglected to mention that before 1777 the author and his heirs were prohibited from exploiting the privilège.  Only a libraire or imprimeur could engage in the commerce of books, and the Paris Community of Sellers and Printers urged members of the guild to insist upon an author’s surrender of his privilège before undertaking publication of his manuscript.  In the overwhelming number of cases this intra-community collusion seems to have worked, and it was not until 1769 that an author overtly challenged publishers’ practice by finding a printer who would undertake his work without insisting upon purchase of the privilège as well, and then locating several libraires who would distribute and sell it.  Though the logic of Laboulaye and Guiffrey was shaky, the documents reprinted in their volume, La Propriété littéraire au XVIIIe siècle.  Recueil de pièces et de documents. Publié par le Comite de l’Association pour la défense de la propriété littéraire et artistique (Paris, 1859), are very valuable.  In 1881, M.-F. Malapert took the opposite tack, defending the limited temporal notion of copyright in his Histoire abrégée de la legislation sur la propriété littéraire avant 1789 (Paris, 1881).  The most dispassionate account of the privilèges was Henri Falk’s law thesis, Les Privilèges de librairie sous P Ancien Régime (Paris, 1906).  But Falk’s near complete dependence upon juridical sources makes his work outdated today.  He made little use of the registers of privilèges and permissions compiled by the Paris Community of Sellers and Printers and therefore failed to see how the use of permissions tacites could cut into the system established by royal arrêts.  Falk also misunderstood Diderot’s role in the theoretical controversy surrounding the privilèges, and he appears not to have comprehended the significance of the La Fontaine affaire of 1761.  In his Histoire économique de l’imprimerie, Vol. I: L’Imprimerie sous l’Ancien Régime, 1439-1789 (Paris, 1905), pp. 85-92, Paul Mellottee gave a brief summary of the privilèges.  So did Francois Olivier-Martin in L’Organisation corporative de la France d’Ancien Régime (Paris, 1938), pp. 44-57.  Recent scholarship has attempted to analyze the effects of the privilège system upon the provincial book trade, or to integrate the system into the larger socio-economic picture of Old Regime France.  Two excellent examples of the former type of research are Mlle. Ventre’s L’Imprimerie et la librairie en Languedoc, pp. 86-111; and Jacqueline Roubert’s “La Situation de l’imprimerie lyonnaise à la fin du XVIIe siecle,” in Cinq Etudes lyonnaises, I (“Histoire et civilisation du livre,” Geneva, 1966), 77-111; The most significant example of the latter type of research, limited as it is to the seventeenth century, is H.-J. Martin’s Livre, pouvoirs et société, I, 51-57, 440-60; II, 690-95, 732-39, 757-68.  A recent law thesis, Marie-Claude Dock’s Etude sur le droit d’auteur (Paris, 1965), employs an historical framework, but is impressionistic and often inaccurate.  The only important study in English, Pottinger’s French Book Trade in the Ancien Régime, falls short in its treatment of the privilèges largely because the author did not have direct access to the sources and had to depend heavily upon Laboulaye and Guiffrey, Malapert, and Falk.  Thus, Pottinger tends to repeat errors or create new ones.  For example, I cannot see upon what he bases his contention that the arrêt of 1777 on privilèges was a “dead letter” (p. 134).  Pottinger concludes his chapter on the “Administration of the Book Trade” with the following (p. 169): “That the publishers and printers worked so valiantly and so loyally to solve their problems in the light of what economic knowledge they had calls for our highest admiration for them as citizens and as businessmen.”  Needless to say, and as I hope this article proves, such adulation ought to be severely qualified.]

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The earliest privilèges en librairie dated back to the first decades of the sixteenth century and were granted either to authors or publishers.  The original intent was to allow the principal investor in an edition the opportunity to recover his money and earn a profit within a fixed period of time - five to ten years customarily.  After this period the

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book in question was to become free copy.  The University, Parlement of Paris, Court of Châtelet, and king shared in the issuance of privilèges.  In the second half of the sixteenth century, however, the Crown assumed exclusive authority to award them.  The wars of religion activated the press as never before, and royal advisors sought to convert a commercial favor of the king’s into a means of censorship control.  In 1566 royal privileges for all first editions became obligatory.  Enforcing such an ordinance outside Paris was of course extremely difficult, but by 1600 officials in the chancellor’s office were reading manuscripts haphazardly and distributing privilèges regularly.  What was most significant, however, was the fact that commencing in the 1630s the chancellor was renewing privileges of libraires and imprimeurs.  This meant that the regime was favoring certain publishers over the others by assuring them monopolies for periods of time long beyond the customary decade.  Moreover, books already in the public domain were removed from it, and privilèges for them were granted to fortunate publishers.  Customarily these works were classics and patristic texts.  For the next half century provincial publishers would refuse to recognize these grants.  Finally, the Crown granted privilèges généraux to a single publisher or group of them, guaranteeing the recipient exclusive rights over a generic category of books for a stipulated period.  The most celebrated corporation to receive a privilège général was the Paris-based Compagnie des usages, an association of the largest publishers in the capital, who during much of the seventeenth century held exclusive title to liturgical works reformed by the Council of Trent.  Of course, authors gained privilèges as well, but the costs of producing and distributing a book at private expense had become prohibitive.  Writers therefore tended to sell their privileges to publishers for a fixed sum, relinquishing the right to benefit from subsequent profits.  The principle of royalties does not seem to have existed.  If a publisher and author might have hit upon an arrangement of sharing profits while the author retained his priviège, it seems safe to assume that the Paris Community of Sellers and Printers would have rendered such an agreement void.  In any event, early in the seventeenth century lines of economic conflict were drawn: authors, the smaller publishers of Paris, virtually all those in the provinces, doctors of the University, and parlementaires of the capital opposed the course of the privilège system.  The Crown and its protected clique in Paris favored it.  Until the middle of the next century the major contestants in the struggle for economic control over the book trade in France would be the favored and nonfavored

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publishers.  The issues at hand would involve the exclusive privilèges for popular editions of classical texts, automatic renewals of privileges, and the privilèges généraux.

When Louis XIV assumed control of the government in 1661, however, no settled privilege policy, governed by royal ordinance, existed.  A General Ruling on the librairie in 1649 had recognized the principle of exclusive privileges for classics, but Parlement refused to register that part of the document.  Chancellor Séguier abided by it nevertheless and awarded privileges and renewals to the Paris houses in which the regime had placed its confidence.  Most frequently these houses were directed by imprimeurs du Roi - the Billaine, Cramoisy, and Sonnius firms for example.  In the 1650s, however, nonfavored publishers openly challenged the Parisians’ claims to monopoly, printing classics and religious texts, protected or not.  Once the absolutism of Louis XIV hardened, however, changes began to evolve; and the monarchy considered itself more obliged than ever to protect the economic interests of those survivors of Colbert’s retrenchment policies who were entrusted with the responsibility for keeping the French book trade ideologically pure - namely the officers of the Paris community and the imprimeurs du Roi.  An ordinance of 1665, restricting privilège renewals to books whose text had been significantly altered or increased, remained unenforced. [12]  By 1670 the regime had cowed into silence the Parlement and University, two institutions reactionary enough to have insisted upon the medieval idea of the unlimited free trade in books as a social and intellectual necessity. [13]  The chancellor’s office issued privilèges and continuations of them at a record clip.  One outrageous, but by no means exceptional, example of royal generosity was the privilège prolongation awarded in 1675 to Pierre Le Petit, a favored publisher, to compensate for losses he had sustained in a warehouse fire.  He was given continuations valid for fifty years for his editions and translations of the works of Arnauld

12 Martin, Livre,pouvoirs et société, I, 51-57, 331-61, 423-29, 440-60; II, 555-96, 678-95.  The essential documents on the evolution of the privilège system from the sixteenth through mid-seventeenth centuries are as follows: Chevillier, L’Origine de l’imprimerie de Paris (Paris, 1695), p. 395 - an enumeration of the first privileges; Isambert, Jourdan, and Decrusy, Recueil général, XIV, 210-11 - the Edict of Moulin (February 1566) obliging royal privilèges for all first editions; F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 69. 19 July 1618. Art. XXXIII - the article in the royal patent letters establishing the Paris Community of Sellers and Printers, which prohibited renewals of privilèges without a corresponding augmentation of the text; F. Fr. 22061, Nr. 93. December 1649.  Art. XXVI - the controversial article in the General Ruling over the librairie which recognized exclusive privileges for classics; F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 107. 27 February 1665 - the last royal arrêt until the mid-eighteenth century that made any genuine attempt to slow down the contraction of the public domain.

13. Charles Jourdain, Histoire de l’Universite de Paris aux XVIIe et XVIIe siècles (Paris, 1888), I, 332.

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d’Andilly and Louis of Granada, for “des offices de l’Église, de la Messe & de la Semaine sainte en Latin & en Francois, que pour le Vieux et du Nouveau Testament,” [14] for certain translations of the Books of Psalms, Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, and, finally, for the translated writings of St. John Chrysostom and Gregory the Great. [15]

Such a policy presaged disaster for publishers in the country, accustomed to assume that translated classics and patristic texts belonged to the public domain, and all that was needed, in order to make an edition of one of them, was censorship approval from a local procureur du Roi.  In the last years of the seventeenth century, Lyon and Rouen publishers in particular, with the blessing of local judges anxious to stimulate industry of any sort in a period of recession, continued their timeworn practices, to the dismay of Parisians who were obtaining exclusive privilèges for the very same books undertaken by the provincials.  The latter were not even applying to the capital for sealed permits for the books they intended to print, as the latest general ruling, that of 1686, obliged them to do. [16]  Soon this conflict of interests resulted in a state of war between the publishers of Paris and their colleagues.  Once the government threw the full weight of its police power behind the Parisians, executing a brutal series of raids upon the community of Lyon in 1692, 1694, and 1699, the game was up. [17]  In 1701 royal patent letters specifically forbade local judges from issuing publication permits for anything except brochures and pamphlets which had passed censorship scrutiny.  Only the keeper of the seals might grant permissions for books. [18]  In a circular letter sixty Lyon sellers and printers requested that the ruling be rescinded.  They pointed out how impossible it was for them to negotiate with authors over the transfer of privilèges, since Paris was the undisputed center of French intellectual life, the residence of all writers of merit.  The Lyonnais stated that virtually their entire livelihood depended upon re-editions of the classics.  They were convinced, however, that once they requested permits from the chancellor for previously

14. Most likely this-was Nicolas Fontaine’s Histoire du Vieux & Nouveau Testament (Paris, 1670) - the so-called “Bible de Royaumont.”

15. F. Fr. 22074, Nr. 37. 3 August 1675.

16. F. Fr. 22061, Nr. 121. Art. LXVI. See Roubert, “La Situation de l’imprimerie lyonnaise,” pp. 86-87.

17. F. Fr. 22074, Nr. 66. 30 August 1692. F. Fr. 22074, Nr. 68. [1694]. F. Fr. 22074, Nr. 70. 20 June 1699.  The second seizure, instigated at the request of André Pralard of Paris, uncovered an incredible bonanza hidden in the Jacobin and Cordelier convents of Lyon: 275 different titles, printed either without permission or in defiance of privileges held by Parisians - in all a total of 21,454 items!  See also Roubert, “La Situation de l’imprimerie lyonnaise,” pp. 89-96.

18. F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 195. 2 October 1701.

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published books, these surely would be denied; for Parisians, gaining wind of their intentions, would get to the Administration first and acquire exclusive privilèges for the works in question.  Every day, complained the Lyonnais, the patriciate of the capital was swallowing up more books once in the public domain.  The provincials requested the restoration of all classics and withdrawal of the recent patent letter. [19]  The regime remained silent.  In 1704, however, it showed where its allegiance lay by issuing a new arrêt reducing the number of print shops in the provincial towns to their lowest total yet - Lyon and Rouen to twelve, Bordeaux and Toulouse to ten apiece. [20]

The Patricate

Between 1704 and 1725, the non-privileged publishers of France sank into the silence of bitterness and resignation, while the patriciate of the capital consolidated its triumphs of the previous three decades with a rigorous pursuit of privilèges and prolongations of them.  Its members divided monopolies among themselves, traded in them, and even offered them as dowries with their daughters.  The provincial press fell into such desperate straits that as early as 1706, Chancellor Pontchartrain was forced to display an element of uncharacteristic generosity by restoring to the public domain certain popular works of piety, the catalogue for which, it must be added, was to be drawn up by officers of the Paris community. [21]  But even in their moment of victory, the Parisians were not of a mind to enjoy it.  Printers and sellers fought one another for the commanding voice in the chambre syndicale. [22]  Master printers struggled with their journeymen, going so far as to hire “scab” labor, the so-called alloués, foreigners and ill-trained provincials drawn to Paris, seeking irregular employment at cut rates of pay. [23]  Most characteristic of all were the struggles among the favored masters themselves over the bounty in privilèges made available by royal generosity.

One of the most publicized cases involved two members of the patriciate, Jean-Baptiste II Coignard and Jacques Mariette.  It had become fairly common for the chancellor’s office to tempt a Parisian with privilège prolongations for works that sold well if only the

19. F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 196. “A nosseigneurs des Requestes de l’Hôtel”[1702].

20 F. Fr. 22065, Nr. 63. 21 July 1704.

21. F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 223. 30 January 1706.

22. Mellottee, Histoire economique, I, 196-99.

23. Chauvet, Les Ouvriers du livre, pp. 150-55.  The General Ruling of 1723 officially authorized use of the alloués.

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publisher would undertake the re-edition of a costly venture whose profit was not guaranteed.  In 1707, such an opportunity was presented to Coignard, imprimeur du Roi et de l’Académie francaise.  Six years earlier Coignard had obtained a twelve-year privilege for several works, including the immensely successful Dictionnaire of Moréri.  In hopes of publishing a new edition of the Moréri, Coignard decided to share the priviège for it with Mariette.  Nothing immediate came of the partnership.  But then the chancellor’s office proposed an eighteen-year continuation of the priviège for the Moréri provided that Coignard undertake publication of the out of print Antiquitates Constantinopolitana of Père Anselme.  Coignard proceeded to inform Mariette that by virtue of the partnership in the Moréri, the two were to share expenses for the Anselme.  Mariette did not see it that way, maintaining that the two enterprises were wholly independent of each other.  He invoked a long abused arrêt of 1665 stating the necessity of considerable augmentations of text before a priviège prolongation would be granted, and added that both he and Coignard possessed sufficient new material to merit a legitimate continuation of the Moréri.  But greed alone had motivated Coignard, Mariette wrote, since the imprimeur du Roi failed to mention that in addition to the Moréri, he had managed to wangle fifty additional prolongations of privièges in his possession - if only he would undertake the Anselme. [24]  In the long run Mariette obtained satisfaction. I can find no subsequent re-edition of the Anselme, and in 1712 a new edition of Moréri appeared with Mariette cited as publisher. [25]  According to one source, admittedly exaggerated, the profits accruing from it were enormous, if not exorbitant. [26]

Eight years later, however, a grave crisis struck the Paris community, forcing its officers to take a stand, at least temporarily, against the priviège system recently evolved.  This time the issue concerned a priviège obtained by the rector of the University of Paris for all editions which the Sorbonne might determine as:

necessaires pour ses Classes, avec des Notes ou sans Notes, & specialement une suite d’Auteurs Grecs & Latins, avec des Notes & des Index... [to be printed] autant de fois que leur bon semblera & de les faire vendre &

24. The memoir of Coignard is F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 14. [1710] “Au Roy & a nosseigneurs de son Conseil.”  The memoir of Mariette is F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 16. [1710] “Au Roy & nosseigneurs de son Conseil.”

25. Catalogue générales des livres imprimes de la Bibliothèque Nationale. Vol. 119, 529-30.

26. [Jacques-Pierre Blondel], “Mémoire sur les vexations qu’exercent les libraires & les imprimeurs de Paris” (Paris [1725]), p. 4.

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débiter par tout notre Royaume pendant le temps de cinquante années consécutives.

Though the award categorically denied prejudice against publishers holding privileges for editions contemplated by the University, it nevertheless prohibited libraires and imprimeurs of the capital from printing the same works that the Sorbonne might undertake.  The rector looked for a publisher with whom he might entrust the vast concession.  He did not have to go far.  His brother, Lambert Coffin, had recently resigned his professorship to take up a new profession - that of libraire. [28]  The issue bore the earmarks of a put-up job, and the Parisians found themselves duped at a game in which they themselves had acquired great skill.  They cried that the grant to the University was a privilèges général, now out of fashion, [29] and that the advancement of scholarship would all but cease.  Editors, they claimed, would be willing to undertake only University-sponsored ventures.  Conveniently forgetting their own relentless hunt for privilèges, the Parisians added that the free market in classical texts and indexes was now ruined, and compounding self-interest with hypocrisy, the patriciate suddenly displayed concern for brethren in the country, “dont la plupart ne subsistent que pour l’Impression & le Débit des Feuilles de Classes & des livres à l’usage des Etudians.”  Once the provincial universities imitated Paris, the patriciate added, the publishers of the country would be destroyed. [30]

Important as this affair was in itself, it also must be seen as an effort on the part of the University to regain a degree of influence over an area in which it once had played such a preponderant role.  Prior to printing, the librairie had been within the domain of its authority.  In the sixteenth century, however, its controls over censorship had whittled away, and in the seventeenth century its position on the free trade in books had become a dead letter.  In the view of the doctors, a

27. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 33. 8 August 1720.

28. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 34. [1720] “Memoire pour le sieur Lambert Coffin, ancien professeur en Universite.”  Lambert Coffin had to pay dearly for his windfall.  His former colleagues deeply resented his commercial ambitions, maintaining that the profession of libraire, at one time linked closely to the academy, “n’est pas aujourd’hui sur l’ancien pied… & que comme elle n’a rien d’incompatible avec l’Art d’un Relieur, elle n’a aussi rien de compatible avec la Profession noble & libérale de Maistre de l’Université.”  The binders, incidentally, had been driven out of the community in 1686.

29. Late in the seventeenth century authors had been prohibited from obtaining privilèges généraux.  F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 136. 18 February 1673; F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 138. 4 June 1674; F. Fr. 22173, Nr. 46. 13 May 1686.  I can find nothing in the registers, however, that prohibited publishers from obtaining them.

30. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 35. “Mémoire pour les libraires & imprimeurs de Paris opposans à l’enregistrement d’un privilèges généraux surpris par M. Coffin, recteur de l’Université” (1720).

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once noble profession had fallen prey to the state and crafty businessmen. [31]  Worst of all, in 1703 a royal order opened the academic community itself to all master libraires and imprimeurs, not merely the two dozen favored ones sanctioned by medieval tradition. [32]  After all the humiliations perhaps now the opportunity arose for a bit of vengeance, and Rector Coffin decided to make the most of circumstances.

But the Parisians were too firmly entrenched.  They launched a counter-attack against the university, and in 1721 the officers of the chambre syndicale obtained major concessions from the Royal Council.  Most significant was the fact that the volumes which the university intended to undertake were not to be protected by a privilège after all.  They rather would obtain special permissions simples.  This meant that commercial publishers would be allowed to print subsequent versions of the university editions as freely as they wished.  They merely would have to acquire their own permissions.  Only published lecture notes would keep their exclusive character. [33]  The Parisians thus could breathe more easily, but at the price of principle.  For a moment they had to reverse their position on privilèges and were forced to acknowledge additions to the public domain.  The storm passed, and they soon returned to customary habits of obtaining privilèges and protecting them.  The Sorbonne affair of 1720-21 was to be considered an anomaly.  They might renew their course again.

Indeed, they had to.  The sudden aggressiveness of the Sorbonne perhaps was symptomatic of the deep social and economic crisis which arose in France in the wake of the collapse of John Law’s System.  Groups had to take their chances.  Now it was the turn of the officers of the Paris community.  They emerged determined more than ever to seek in legislation a means of assuring retention of gains which recently had come under attack.  They pieced together a comprehensive set of recommendations for the librairie of the capital.  The Royal Council approved their proposals, but a now recalcitrant Parlement withheld registration.  In 1723 the Parisians tried again.  Once more the Royal Council approved, and this time Parlement was

31. Jourdain, Histoire de l’Université, II, 28-29, 176-78. Olivier-Martin, L’Organisation corporative, pp. 55-60.

32. F. Fr. 21748, Nr. 62. 6 October 1703.  Formerly, membership had been restricted to twenty-four masters, a custom dating back to the fourteenth century.  In 1725 the University saved some face by obtaining the right to examine all candidates for masterships in the book trade, ostensibly to determine literacy in Latin and Greek.  Obviously the examination was nothing more than a formal gesture.

33. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 38. 13 September 1721.

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ignored altogether.  In 1744 the “Reglement du Conseil” became known as the “code de la librairie” and was applied formally to the entire kingdom. [34]  Though the revisions of 1777 were to alter completely its treatment of the privilèges, it remained the fundamental document governing the book trade for the remainder of the Ancien Régime. [35]

Divided into sixteen chapters and 123 articles, the ruling covered the administration and composition of the community, censorship procedures, the policing of published works, the rights of authors, the role of itinerant peddlers (the colporteurs), the auxiliary trades, and finally the privilèges and permits.  Curiously enough, the ruling failed to define privilèges per se, or state criteria for their prolongation.  But Article 103 assumed that all books printed in France must be sanctioned by either a permission de sceau or privilege exclusif, and Article 109 defined as counterfeit editions books printed in defiance of privilèges or prolongations of them.  The very ambiguity of that section of the ruling on privilèges would permit the Parisians the greatest leeway of interpretation.  Basically, their position was that books not already protected by privilèges might conceivably become so; and that privileges upon expiration were automatically renewable.  Of course, not a word mentioned the permissions tacites.  Article 5 of the ruling was clear in stating who might engage in the commerce of books: only printers, sellers, and registered colporteurs.

 

Natural Rights

The patriciate countered provincial protests against the ruling by having drawn up in 1725 a theoretical argument justifying the legislation.  No longer did the Parisians intend to depend solely upon historical precedent or economic necessity, as had been traditional with them.  Nor would they pay much attention to the contradictory elements in seventeenth century arrêst on the privilèges. T hey would appeal rather to a fundamental idea on property which had its source, so they believed, in Natural Rights themselves.  They called upon a parlementary lawyer, Louis d’Héricourt, to prepare their brief, which they submitted to Keeper of the Seals Fleuriau d’Armenonville early in 1726. [36]

34. F. Fr. 22062, Nr. 85. 24 March 1744. Saugrain, Code de la librairie et de l’imprimerie (Paris, 1744).

35. Isambert, Jourdan, Decrusy, Recueil général, XXI, 216-31.

36. By no means was d’Héricourt’s argument wholly original.  As early as 1694, a memoir of the Paris community had likened privilèges to real property (F. Fr. 22071, Nr. 177).  To the rhetorical question of whether a libraire might will a privilège renewal to his heir, the Parisians had responded: “Est-ce un crime de se conférer un droit legitimement acquis ?”  They went on to liken those contesting their claim to jealous neighbors who would deny a landlord the right to bequeath a well on his property simply because they, the neighbors, had not possessed the industry to construct their own.

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To their bewilderment d’Armenonville became furious when he read it.  He forced the resignations of the syndic and adjunct of the community, and the printer of the Mérnoire had to flee Paris to avoid imprisonment. [37]

What was so outrageous about the argument which now threatened the alliance molded by Colbert half a century earlier?  Essentially, d’Héricourt and the Parisians defined the royal privilege in so restrictive a way that it became no more than the confirmation of an anterior right - and that right was property: “Il est certain,” wrote the jurist, “selon les principes que l’on vient d’établir, que ce ne soot point les Privilèges que le Roi accorde aux Libraires qui les rendent proprietaires des Ouvrages qu’ils impriment, mais uniquement l’acquisition du Manuscrit, dont l’auteur leur transmet la propriété, au moyen du prix qu’il en recoit.”  By what right is a manuscript the property of an author, d’Héricourt asked rhetorically?  His reply was an extension of Locke’s : “C’est le fruit d’un travail qui lui est personnel, dont it doit avoir la liberté de disposer à son gré, pour se procurer, outre l’honneur qu’il en espère, un profit qui lui fournisse ses besoins.”  Of course, d’Héricourt neglected to mention that the Ruling of 1723 prohibited all who were neither libraires nor imprimeurs from engaging in the commerce of books, so that authors had no other choice than to transfer ownership of the product of their toil.  To d’Héricourt, once the manuscript changed hands, the new owner obtained full and outright possession: “[Il] doit demeurer perpétuellement propriétaire du Texte de cet Ouvrage, lui & ses descendans, comme d’une terre ou d’une maison qu’il auroit acquise, parce que l’acquisition d’un héritage ne differe en rien par la nature de l’acquisition de celle d’un manuscrit.”  Therefore, a privilège, strictly speaking, could have no temporal limits.  It simply acknowledged a right of property.  “Le Roi, n’ayant aucun droit sur les Ouvrages des Auteurs, ne peut les transmettre à personne sans le consentement de ceux qui s’en trouvent les légitimes propriétaires.”  Once a manuscript passed censorship and the publishers acquired a royal privilège over it, the king “se trouve dans une heureuse impuissance d’ôer les Privilèges qu’il a

37. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 62. “A Monseigneur le Garde des Sceaux” (Paris, 1726).  A handwritten note attached to the Bibliothêque Nationale’s copy of the memoir, signed Boudie (Boudier de Villemert ?) noted:

Ce mémoire a tellement irrité le Garde des Sceaux qu’il en insulta le sindic Mariette & son confrère adjoint Ganeau, qu’ils luy donnèrent leur démission, & à leur place furent nommés par arrest du Conseil Brunet sindic, Prudhomme & Saugrain adjoints.

In 1764 the librairie official Francois Marin noted that the printer of the memoir, Vincent, had had to flee Paris (F. Fr. 22183. March, 1764).

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accordés a un libraire propriétaire d’un Manuscrit, pour en gratifier un autre qui n’y a aucun droit.” [38]

Franklin Ford has noted how early eighteenth century Robe theoreticians adapted to French circumstances certain of the justifying principles for the Glorious Revolution.  Customarily it was the contractual theory of the state that intrigued them. [39]  D’Héricourt, however, was dipping into two other areas dear to the men of 1688, the labor theory of property and the inviolability of commercial contracts.  The merging of these concepts would serve the self-interest of the privilège monopolists of the French book trade for another half century.  Nevertheless, the year 1726 marks a watershed in another way.  No longer would the Administration react with automatic sympathy to the wishes of the Paris patriciate.  As a matter of fact, that very year the government tolerated the circulation of Jacques Blondel’s “Mémoire sur les vexations qu’exercent les libraires & les imprimeurs de Paris,” a denunciation of the habits of the officers of the Paris community, who, according to Blondel, abused writers and non-favored publishers alike, and whose books were justly notorious for their high price and low quality. [40]

Still, between 1726 and 1750, the regime made no concerted effort to revise the privilège system.  Only once between these dates did it seem genuinely threatened.  This was in 1739. Two Paris sellers, Jean-François Josse and Charles-Marie Delespine protested that the comte d’Argenson, who held administrative responsibility over the librairie in the name of Chancellor d’Aguesseau, had turned down their request for privilège continuations for stocks the pair recently had purchased.  Josse and Delespine maintained to d’Aguesseau that they had made their investment with the understanding that they would have no difficulty obtaining their prolongations.  They repeated

38. F. Fr. 22072, Nr. 62.  The memoir was reprinted, with slight variants, in the Oeuvres posthumes de Maitre Louis d’Héricourt, Avocat au Parlement (Paris, 1759), III. Mémoire V. En forme de Requeste à Monseigneur le Garde des Sceaux.  Question: “S’il seroit juste & équitable d’accorder aux Libraires de Province la permission d’imprimer les Livres qui appartiennent aux Libraires de Paris, par l’acquisition qu’ils ont faite des Manuscrits des Auteurs,” pp. 54-71.  See also John Locke, The Second Treatise on Government, ed. Peter Laslett (New York, 1965), pp. 327-44.

39. Franklin L. Ford, Robe and Sword: The Regrouping of the French Aristocracy After Louis XIV (New York, 1965), p. 224.  See also Denis Richet, “Autour des Origines idéologiques lointaines de la Revolution francaise. Elites et despotismes,” Annales. Economies, Societes, Civilisations (1969), 1-23.

40. [Blondel], “Mémoire sur les vexations.” In his Journal et mémoires sur la Régence et sur le regne de Louis XV, ed. de Lescure (Paris, 1863-68), III, 176 and 310, Matthieu Marais notes that Blondel’s memoir was thought to have been the work of disgruntled journeyman printers.  The memoir has been edited by Lucien Faucou and published under its original title by the Moniteur du Bibliophile (Paris, 1879).

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d’Héricourt’s argument that p