Chapter 4: Who Owns the Music?
The Cases That Built Copyright Law
By 1773, the music of Christian Bach and Carl Friedrich Abel echoed through London’s concert halls. The duo operated subscription concerts, delivering their compositions directly to audiences. An annual subscription granted access to every concert that season. The model attracted diverse crowds and gained popularity.
In those days, publishing sheet music was as common as staging concerts. These publications were essential for music students and instrumentalists learning new pieces—a thriving market for anyone who could read notation.
Longman, Lukey & Co., a London publishing house, watched the Bach-Abel duo’s rising fame and recognized a profitable opportunity. They devised a plan: publish Bach’s new compositions without permission and sell them. They executed it.
Bach couldn’t accept this theft of work born from hard labor. Christian Bach sued Longman in court.
During trial, two perspectives collided. On one side stood the musician demanding justice for his work. On the other, the publisher advancing commercial profit.
Longman’s lawyers argued that the Statute of Anne (1710)—the world’s first copyright law—granted protection only to writers, not musicians. But Justice Lord Mansfield ruled that the definition of “writing” included musical notation. Therefore, Bach’s sheet music couldn’t be published without his permission.
This became the first case establishing musicians’ copyright. It drew a crucial boundary between creative freedom and commercial interests. Bach’s victory laid the foundation for numerous copyright cases that followed. (But this not first copyright case)
Bach v. Longman (1777) 98 Eng. Rep. 1274; Cowp. 623.
This is Chapter 4 of The Long Song: English to India. A recreation of my Tamil work in a series. New readers should start Chapter 1 for the full story. Subscribe to get new chapters in your mailbox.
Piracy: John Walsh
Eighteenth-century London spawned a new breed of entrepreneur: music publishers. The most notorious was John Walsh.
Walsh’s chosen methods generated massive profits—and massive controversy.
Fundamentally, Walsh manufactured musical instruments. While running that business, he recognized that music publishing offered far greater returns. Before the Statute of Anne existed, Walsh earned enormous profits from pirated editions published without permission.
Among Walsh’s early piracy targets: operas by composer George Frideric Handel.
Handel had obtained exclusive publishing rights from King George I. Before the Statute of Anne (Chapter 1), one could secure such special privileges directly from monarchs. But royal permission didn’t stop Walsh. In 1725, when Handel’s new opera captivated audiences, Walsh published and sold it before Handel could release his own edition.
Handel seethed with rage. Yet he couldn’t control Walsh’s subsequent pirated releases. Eventually, Handel simply granted Walsh the publishing rights himself. Handel was merely one of many composers victimized by Walsh’s piracy.
Walsh’s pirated editions contained errors and used cheap paper. But they sold at low prices. Publishing new music immediately and in large quantities proved crucial to Walsh’s success. He possessed an uncanny ability to assess sheet music and predict sales.
By 1730, Walsh had become the dominant publisher without serious competition. His catalog included not just pirated music but also legitimately licensed works under contract.
London’s first copyright lawsuit? Filed against John Walsh.
London’s First Copyright Case
Francesco Geminiani v. John Walsh (1731/32)
The dispute between musician Francesco Geminiani and publisher John Walsh is considered London’s first copyright lawsuit.
Geminiani, an Italian musician, had just composed a violin sonata. (A violin sonata is music written specifically for violin, typically with piano accompaniment.)
Somehow, Geminiani’s new sonata reached Walsh’s hands. Deciding to publish it, Walsh approached Geminiani with a brazen demand: proofread your own stolen work. If Geminiani refused, Walsh warned, it would be published with errors—damaging Geminiani’s reputation.
Publishing without permission was already wrong. But demanding the composer himself correct the pirated edition? Walsh’s arrogance enraged Geminiani. He sued.
The court hearing the case issued an injunction stopping Walsh from publishing Geminiani’s music. But we lack information about the final verdict. The case was likely settled outside court. Some therefore don’t consider this history’s first copyright case. Nevertheless, it remains significant. The case occurred in 1731 or 1732.
Walsh, who conducted piracy business his entire life, died wealthy in 1736. After his death, his son Walsh Junior (John Walsh Jr.) continued the enterprise. Junior died in 1766. Even after his death, the John Walsh publishing house operated successfully. The firm has a long history in music publishing.
As the saying goes, there’s always someone cleverer than the clever. A publisher named Faulkner pirated some editions for which Walsh’s firm held legitimate copyright. After Walsh Junior’s death, John Pyle, who administered the Walsh estate, took this case to court. One of time’s ironies.
(Pyle v. Falkener, 1772)
What Do Courts Actually Do?
In Christian Bach’s lawsuit against Longman, defendants argued the Statute of Anne applied only to books, not musical notation. The court ruled that sheet music deserved copyright protection like books.
Similar cases raised additional questions about the law. Pirate publishers searched for loopholes and debated them in court. Sometimes they raised legitimate questions about legal provisions.
“After a musician dies, who owns the song?”
Today this seems straightforward. But in eighteenth-century England, it wasn’t simple.
Publisher John Hime possessed unpublished manuscripts by the famous composer Handel. Another publisher, Robert Dale, began publishing them without permission.
The case reached court.
“But Handel’s dead!” Dale argued. “How can a dead person be an owner?”
This wasn’t simple for the court. The Statute of Anne contained no provisions addressing deceased musicians’ unpublished works.
Can a Single Sheet Be a Book?
Years later, courts confronted another peculiar question. A popular song from a musical theater production existed as sheet music on a single page. The Statute of Anne protected only “books.”
The pirate publisher argued: “This is just one page—it’s not a book!”
Which mattered—the creative work itself, or how many pages it occupied?
The Seasons
Then came cases involving James Thomson’s poetry collection “The Seasons.”
The question: How long should someone own their creation? Forever? A few years?
One publisher argued, “If I own a house, it’s mine forever. Why shouldn’t the same apply to a poem?”
Another countered, “But if everyone locks away their ideas forever, how will new creators learn and grow?”
These cases fundamentally questioned whether general property rules applied to creative works. Physical property has clear boundaries. But how do you fence in an idea?
Border Problems
When works traveled across seas, new problems emerged. A French composer writes an opera in Paris. Someone brings it to London. He starts selling published copies.
The French composer protests: “That’s my music!” But the London publisher responds, “You’re not in England. Our law protects only our country’s creators.”
Major Cases
Hime v. Dale (1803)
The court ruled in Hime’s favor, determining that rights holders could protect unpublished works by deceased creators. This established that copyright could outlive the creator.
Clementi v. Golding (1809)
The court ruled that even single-sheet music fell under the definition of “book,” expanding copyright protection’s scope. Publishers could no longer argue that brief works escaped copyright.
Tonson v. Collins (1762)
Though final verdict information is unavailable, this case raised important debates about copyright duration and whether protection should be perpetual.
Millar v. Taylor (1769)
Ruled that under common law—traditional legal precedent established through court decisions—creators held perpetual copyright. But this verdict was later reversed.
Donaldson v. Beckett (1774)
Ruled that copyright under the Statute of Anne was time-limited, not perpetual. This overturned the Millar verdict and established that works would eventually enter the public domain.
D’Almaine v. Boosey (1835)
Ruled that publishing an altered work without permission also violated copyright. Even modifications required the creator’s consent.
Boosey v. Jefferys (1851)
Initially ruled that English law would protect foreign creators’ rights, potentially opening English courts to international copyright claims.
Jefferys v. Boosey (1854)
On appeal, reversed the verdict—foreign creators received protection only if they first published in England. This limited international copyright protection significantly.
Across the Atlantic
In 1787, the American Constitution was created. It granted Congress the power to enact laws ensuring writers and inventors held complete rights to their creations for a limited time, for the advancement of science and the arts.
In 1790, the first national copyright law passed. Under it, “maps, charts, and books” received protection for fourteen years. If the creator still lived, it could be renewed once.
In 1831, American copyright law expanded. The initial fourteen-year term became twenty-eight years, renewable for another fourteen. This guaranteed creators forty-two years of protection.
But this wasn’t comprehensive copyright law. Critical questions remained unanswered. To understand these gaps, we need to examine one case.
The case involved the novel that would help ignite America’s bloodiest war.
[Next: The novel Abraham Lincoln said started the Civil War—and the translation that destroyed its meaning]
This is Chapter 4 of The Long Song: English to India. A recreation of my Tamil work in a series. New readers should start Chapter 1 for the full story. Subscribe to get new chapters in your mailbox.
Never would’ve thought I could get absorbed in an article about the history of copyrights. Also never would’ve thought that copyright history was so complex and intertwined with the history of classical music.