Rome.
ROMAN literature may be said to date from about 250 B.C., or, to take
an event which marked an important era in the life of the Republic,
from the close of the first Punic War, 241 B.C.
With the Romans, literature was not of spontaneous growth, but was
chiefly the result of the influence exerted by the Etruscans, who were
their first teachers in everything mental and spiritual.
The earliest literary efforts of the Greeks, or at least the earliest
which are known to us, were, as we have seen, epic poems, setting forth
the deeds of the gods, demi-gods, and heroes. The earliest literary
productions of the Romans were historical narratives, bald records of
events real or imaginary.
Simcox refers to the curious feature of Latin literature, that “It
is in its best days a Roman literature without being the work of
Romans.”[139] The great writers of Athens were Athenians, but from
Ennius to Martial, a succession of writers who were not natives of Rome
lived and worked in the metropolis and owed their fame to the Roman
public.
Authors came to Rome from all parts of the civilized world, there
to make their literary fortunes. They needed, in order to secure a
standing in the world of literature, the approval of the critics of
the capital, and in the latter period, they required also, for the
multiplying and distributing of their books, the service of the Roman
publishers.
Géraud points out that the Romans came very near to the acquisition
of the art of printing. It was the aim of Trajan, in his Asiatic
expeditions, to surpass Alexander in the extent of his conquests and
journeyings eastward. “If I were but younger!” murmured Trajan, as he
stood on the shores of the mysterious Erythrean Sea (the Indian Ocean).
And there was in fact probably little but lack of time to prevent him
from passing Alexander’s limit of the Indus, and, marching across the
Indian peninsula, from arriving within the borders of the “everlasting
empire” of the Chinese. In the time of Trajan, however (100 A.D.),
the Chinese had already mastered the art of xylographic printing,
or printing from blocks. If, therefore, Trajan had arrived at the
imperial power say ten years earlier, literary property might have
saved thirteen centuries in securing the most essential condition of
substantial existence.
There are, however, compensations for all losses. If printing had come
into Europe in the first century, the world might to-day be buried
under the accumulated mass of its literature, and my subject, already
sufficiently complex, would have assumed unmanageable proportions.
With the knowledge of the language and literature of Greece, which
came to the Romans partly through the commerce of the Greek traders
of the Mediterranean, partly through the Greek colonies in Italy, and
partly, probably, through the intercourse brought about by war, a new
literary standard was given to Rome. The dry annals of events, and the
crude and barely metrical hymns or chants, which had hitherto comprised
the entire body of national literature, were now to be brought into
contrast with the great productions of the highest development of Greek
poetry, drama, and philosophy. As a result the literary thought and the
literary ideals of Rome were, for a time, centred in Athens.
It would not be quite correct to say that from the outset Athenian
literature served as a model for Roman writers. This was true only at
a later stage in the development of literary Rome. The first step was
simply the acceptance of the works of Greek writers as constituting for
the time being all the higher literature that existed. Greek became
and for a number of years remained the literary language of Rome. Such
libraries as came into existence were at first made up exclusively,
and for centuries to come very largely, of works written in Greek. The
instructors, at least of literature, philosophy, and science, taught
in Greek and were in large part themselves Greeks. In fact the Greek
language must have occupied in Italy, during the two centuries before
Christ, about the place which, centuries later, was held throughout
Europe by Latin, as the recognized medium for scholarly expression.
There is, however, this difference to note. The Latin of mediæval
Europe, though the language of scholars, was for all writers an
acquired language, and its use for the literature of the middle ages
gave to that literature an inevitable formality and artificiality of
style. The Greek used in early Rome was the natural literary language,
because it was the language of all the cultivated literature that was
known, and it was learned by the Romans of the educated classes in
their earliest years, becoming to them if not a mother tongue, at least
a step-mother tongue. In the face of this all-powerful competition
of the works of some of the greatest writers of antiquity, works
which were the result of centuries of intellectual cultivation, the
literary efforts of the earlier Roman authors seemed crude enough, and
the development of a national literature, expressed in the national
language, progressed but slowly.
With the capture of Corinth in 146 B.C., the last fragment of Greek
independence came to an end, and the absorption of Greece into the
Roman empire was completed. But while the arms of Rome had prevailed,
the intellect of Greece remained supreme, and, in fact, its range of
influence was enormously extended through the very conquests which gave
to the Romans the mastery, not only of the little Grecian peninsula,
but of the whole civilized world.
The second stage in the development of Roman literature was the
wholesale adaptation by the Roman writers of such Greek originals as
served their purpose. It was principally the dramatic authors whose
productions were thus utilized, but the appropriations extended to
almost every branch of literature. In a few cases the plays and poems
were published simply as translations, due credit being given to the
original works, but in the larger number of instances in which the
adaptation from the Greek into the Latin was made with considerable
freedom and with such modifications as might help to give a local or
a popular character to the piece, the Roman playwright would make
no reference to the Attic author, but would quietly appropriate for
himself the prestige and the profits accruing from his literary
ingenuity and industry. It is proper to remember, however, that in few
cases could living Greek authors have had any cause for complaint. It
was the writings of the dead masters, and particularly, of course, of
those whose work, while distinctive and available, was less likely
to be familiar to a Roman literary public, which furnished an almost
inexhaustible quarry for the rapacity of the plagiarists of the early
Republic.
The bearing of this state of things upon the development of real Roman
literature and upon any possibility of compensation for the writers of
such literature, is obvious. Why should a Roman publisher or theatrical
manager pay for the right to publish or to perform a drama by a native
writer, when he could secure, for the small cost of a translation or
adaptation, a more spirited and satisfactory piece of work from the
Attic quarry?
What encouragement could be given, in the face of competition of
this kind, to the young Latin poet, striving to secure even a hearing
from the public? The practice of utilizing foreign dramatic material
by adapting it for home requirements, has, as we know, been very
generally followed in later times, the most noteworthy example being
the wholesale appropriations made by English dramatists from the
dramatic literature of France, prior to the establishment between the
two countries of international copyright.
There must also have been a further difficulty on the part of
the earlier Roman publishers in the way of finding funds for the
encouragement of native talent. Their own work was for many years
being carried on at a special disadvantage in connection with the
previously referred to competition of Alexandria. As late as the middle
of the first century A.D., a large portion, and probably the larger
portion, of the work of the copyists in preparing editions had to be
done in Alexandria, as there alone could be found an adequate force
of trained and competent scribes, the swiftness and accuracy of whose
work could be depended upon. Alexandria was also not simply the chief,
but practically the sole market in the world for papyrus. The earlier
Roman publisher found it, therefore, usually to his advantage to send
to Alexandria his original text, and to contract with some Alexandrian
correspondent, who controlled a book-manufacturing establishment, for
the production of the editions required, while to this manufacturing
outlay the Roman dealer had further to add the cost of his freight.
There is record of certain copying done for Roman orders during the
first and second centuries B.C. in Athens, but this seems in the main
to have been restricted to commissions from individual collectors, like
Lucullus (B.C. 115-57). The mass of the book-making orders certainly
went to Alexandria, which bore a relation to the book-trade of Rome
similar in certain respects to that borne to the London publishers in
the first half of the present century by the literary circle and by
the printers of Edinburgh. The earlier Roman publishers, therefore,
in losing the advantage of the manufacturing of books issued by them,
found their margin of possible profit seriously curtailed, and the
chances of securing for the authors any remuneration from the sales of
their books must for many years have been very slight. It seems, in
fact, probable that compensation for Roman authors began only when,
through the development of publishing machinery, it became possible
for the making of books to be done advantageously in Rome. This period
corresponds also with the time when a real national literature began
to shape itself, and when the development of a popular interest in this
literature called for the production of books in the Latin language,
which could be prepared by Latin scribes.
The two sets of influences, the one mercantile, the other intellectual
and patriotic, worked together, and were somewhat intermingled as cause
and effect. The peculiar relation borne to the earlier intellectual
development of Rome by the literature of a foreign people has never
been fully paralleled in later history. The use of Greek in Italy as
the language of learning and of literature, was, as said, very similar
to the general acceptance of Latin by the scholars of mediæval Europe
as the only tongue worthy of employment for literary purposes. But
I can find no other instance in which the literature of one people
ever became so completely and so exclusively the authority for and
the inspiration of the first literary life of another. During the
eighteenth century, North Germany had, under the direction of its
Court circles accepted French as the language of refined society, and
German literature was to some extent fashioned after French models;
but important as this influence appeared to be, at the time, say, of
Frederick the Great, it does not seem as if it could have had any
large part in shaping the work of the German writers of the following
half century.
The literary life of the American Republic has, of course, during a
large portion of its independent existence, as in the old colonial
days, drawn its inspiration from the literature of its parent state,
Great Britain. There has been, in this instance, as in the relation
between Rome and Greece, on the part of the younger community, first,
an entire acceptance of and dependence upon the literary productions
of the older state; later, a very general appropriation and adaptation
of such productions; still later (and in part _pari passu_ with such
appropriation), a large use of the older literature as the model
and standard for the literary compositions of the writers of the
younger people; while, finally, there has come in the latter half
of the nineteenth century for America, as in the second half of the
first century for Rome, the development, in the face of these special
difficulties, of a truly national literature. For America, as for Rome,
this development was in certain ways furthered by the knowledge and the
influence of the great literary works of an older civilization, while
for America, as for Rome, the overshadowing literary prestige of these
older works, and the commercial difficulties in the way of securing
public attention and a remunerative sale for books by native authors in
competition with the easily “appropriated” volumes of older writers of
recognized authority, may possibly have fully offset the advantage of
the inspiration.
In certain important respects the comparison fails to hold good. For
America the literary connection with and inspiration from Great Britain
was in every way a natural one. In changing their skies, the Americans
could not change their mother-tongue, and in the literature of England,
prior to 1776, they continued to claim full ownership and inheritance.
The peculiar condition for Rome was its acceptance, as the foundations
of its intellectual life, of the literature of a conquered people,
with which people its own kinship was remote, and whose language was
entirely distinct.
The estimate in which the Greeks were held by their conquerors is
indicated in the fact that, while the Greeks held all but themselves to
be barbarians, by the Romans the term was applied to all but themselves
and the Greeks.
While a republican form of government has not usually been considered
as unfavorable for intellectual activity, history certainly presents
not a few instances in which an absolute monarch has had it in his
power, through the direct use of the public resources, to further the
literary production of the State in a way which would hardly have been
practicable for a republic. It is not to be doubted, for instance, that
a ruler in Rome, with the largeness of mind and persistency of will of
Ptolemy Philadelphus, could by some such simple measures as those which
proved so effective in Alexandria, have hastened by half a century or
more the development of a national literature in Italy. But, until the
establishment of the Empire, the rulers of the Republic had their hands
too full with the work of defending the State and of extending its
sway, to be able to give thought to, or to find funds for any schemes
for, “Museums,” Academies, or Libraries, planned to supply instruction
for the community, and to secure employment and incomes for literary
men, under whose direction literary undertakings could be carried on at
the expense of the public treasury.
No institution of learning received any endowment from the treasury
of the Roman Republic, and the scholars who undertook literary work
received no aid or encouragement from the government. Under the
limitations and conditions controlling the literary life of the time,
it is not to be wondered at that the many attractions held out by the
Ptolemies should have caused Alexandria rather than Rome to become the
literary centre of the world, a distinction which it seems hardly to
have lost until, half a century after, through the conquest of Egypt
by Octavius (B.C. 30), it had fallen to the position of a capital of a
Roman province.
A still further consideration to be borne in mind in connection with
the slow development of Roman literature, is the attitude of Roman
writers to their work. Many of those whose names are best known to us
would have felt themselves lowered to be classed as authors. They were
statesmen, advocates, men about town, or, if you will, simple citizens,
who gave some of their leisure hours to literary pursuits. To the
Greek author, whether poet, philosopher, or historian, literature was
an avocation, an honored and honorable profession. The Roman writer
preferred as a rule to consider his writing as a pastime. Cicero says:
_Ut si occupati profuimus aliquid civibus nostris, prosimus etiam, si
possumus, otiosi._[140]
Cornelius Nepos, in writing the life of Atticus, omits the smallest
reference to the connection of Atticus with literature, as if any
association with authorship or with publishing was either of no
importance, or might even have impaired the reputation of an honored
Roman.
It was this feeling that authorship was not in itself an avocation
worthy of a Roman citizen, which unquestionably stood very much in the
way of any arrangements under which authors could secure compensation
for their productions, and doubtless postponed for a considerable
period the recognition by the publishers and the reading public of any
property rights in literature. The evidences, or, as it would be more
exact to say, the indications, concerning such compensation for Roman
writers are but fragmentary and at best but inconclusive. They will be
referred to later in this chapter.
The first Latin playwright whose name has been preserved, was Titus
Livius Andronicus of Tarentum. Andronicus added to his labors as
a dramatist the work of an instructor of Greek literature, and
he prepared for school use (about 250 B.C.) an abridgment of the
_Odyssey_. A volume of this kind, written for use as a text-book, could
hardly have been undertaken for the sake of the literary prestige, but
must have been published for the purpose of securing profit from the
sale of copies. If this inference is a just one, the book will stand
as the earliest known instance in Latin literature of property in
the work of an author, and the example is peculiarly characteristic,
because the work of Andronicus, like the literature of his country,
rested upon a Greek foundation.
A large proportion of the works of the early Roman dramatists have
been identified as being versions, more or less exact, of known Greek
originals, and in a number of cases the substance of Greek productions
of which the titles and perhaps some descriptive references have come
into record but the original texts of which have disappeared, have
been preserved only by means of these Latin versions. The presumption
is strong that very few of the dramatic writings which appeared in
Rome during the century following the date of Andronicus, say 280
B.C. to 180 B.C., even of those whose Greek connection has not been
traced, were not in great part based upon Greek originals.[141] It
would not be easy to decide whether this exceptional relation between
the two literatures, and this enormous indebtedness of the younger
to the older, furthered or hindered the wholesome development of the
literary productiveness of Italy. It seems probable that the gain in
refinement, and in the cultivation of literary form, was largely offset
by the check to the work of the creative faculty and the lessening of
sturdiness and individuality. Emerson’s saying that “every man is as
lazy as he dares to be,” was probably as true of the writers of Rome as
it would have been of any other group of writers placed in a similar
position. It is much easier to build one’s house from the finished
blocks of the neighboring ruin, than to do the original hewing of new
stones out of the side of the mountain.
The next name of importance among the writers of the period of the
Punic Wars was Ennius, often spoken of as “the father of Latin
literature.” Of his dramatic work Simcox remarks: “A play of Ennius was
generally a play of Euripides simplified and amplified.”[142] It is
in order to remember that Ennius, though doing all his literary work
in Latin, was himself not a Latin, but a Calabrian--that is, at least
half Greek in his ancestry and early environment. The work by which
he is best known is the _Annals_, a historical or rather legendary
poem, giving evidence of the Greek bias of the author in undertaking
to present history (from Romulus to Scipio) as a poem rather than as
a chronicle of facts in sober prose. Ennius translated a Sicilian
Cookery-book (issued about 175 B.C.), a piece of work which, as the
translator was poor, earning a modest livelihood by teaching, could
only have been undertaken as a business commission. Whether it was paid
for by a bookseller or by a patron is not recorded, but the probability
is in favor of the latter, as Ennius, while frequently mentioning his
patrons, makes no reference to any booksellers. An early instance of
the possibility of making money by writing is afforded by Plautus,
whose comedies date between 202 and 184 B.C. He is reported to have
written plays with such success as to have been able with the proceeds
to set himself up as a miller, and when his business failed, he
returned to play-writing until he had again secured a competence.[143]
His success was the more noteworthy, as it was difficult to understand
how there could have been much demand for comedies in Rome during the
anxious years when Hannibal was encamped at Capua. Cæcilius, who was
a late contemporary of Plautus, is for us little more than a name,
as of his comedies, commended by others as great, but fragments have
been preserved. Terence was one of the writers possessing a large
appreciation of Greek literature. He translated a hundred plays,
chiefly from Menander, but there is nothing to tell us how far
his literary undertakings proved commercially successful.[144] A
historical work of substantial importance was the _Origines_ of Cato
the Censor, completed about 149 B.C. (three years before the fall of
Carthage and of Corinth), which dealt with the institutions of Rome
and with the origin of the allied Italian States. This was followed
by the _Annales Maximi_ of Mucius Scævola (issued in 133 in no less
than eighty books), by further Annals by Calpurnius Piso, and by the
Histories of Hostius (125) and of Antipater (123). I have, of course,
no intention of presenting in a sketch like this, a summary of early
Roman literature, or a schedule of Latin writers. I only desire to
point out that during the century preceding the birth of Cicero (106),
while there is no definite information concerning the existence in Rome
of any organized book trade, or of publishing machinery, by means of
which books could be manufactured and sold, and business relations be
established between the authors and their public, a number of important
literary enterprises, involving no little labor and expense, were
undertaken. I think there are fair grounds for the inference that the
continued production of books addressed to the general public implied
the existence of a distribution machinery for reaching such public,
and that there were, therefore, publishers in Rome who found it to
their advantage to pay authors for literary labor many years before
the founding of the firm of that prince of publishers, Atticus, whose
business methods are described by Cicero.
In Rome, as in Athens, the men who first interested themselves in
publishing undertakings, or at least in the publishing of higher class
literature, were men who combined with literary tastes the control of
sufficient means to pay the preparation of the editions. Their aim
was the service of literature and of the State, and not the securing
of profits, and, as a fact, these earlier publishing enterprises must
usually have resulted in a deficiency. As the size of the editions
could easily be limited to the probable demand, and further copies
could always be supplied as called for, it seems at first thought as
if the expense need not have been considerable. The high prices which,
under the competition of a literary fashion, it became necessary to
pay for educated slaves trained as scribes, constituted the most
serious item of outlay. Horace speaks of slaves competent to write
Greek as costing 8000 sesterces, about $400.[145] Calvisius, a rich
_dilettante_, paid as much as 10,000 sesterces, $500, for each of his
_servi literati_.[146] In one of the laws of Justinian, in which the
relative price of slaves is fixed for estates to be divided, _notarii_,
or scribes, are rated fifty per cent. higher than artisans.[147]
Certain proprietors found it to their advantage, partly for their own
service and partly for the sake of making a profit later through their
sale, to give to intelligent young slaves a careful education. Such a
training, in order to produce a really valuable scribe, had to include
a good deal beside reading and penmanship. A _servus literatus_, to
be competent to prepare trustworthy copies, needed to have a good
knowledge of Greek, and such acquaintance with the works of the leading
authors, Greek and Latin, as would enable him to decipher with some
critical judgment doubtful passages in difficult manuscripts. It is
probable that better work, that is more accurate work, was done by
these selected scribes of the household than by the copyists employed
by the book-dealers. Strabo tells us that as the making of books became
a common undertaking, there was constant complaint at the inaccuracies
and deficiencies of the copies offered for sale, which had in many
cases been prepared by ignorant scribes writing hastily and carelessly,
and which had not afterwards been collated with the original
text.[148] Strabo refers to book-making establishments in Rome as early
as 80 B.C., which was before the founding of the concern of Atticus,
but he does not give us the names of their managers.
Marcus Crassus, whose staff of skilled slaves included readers,
copyists, and architects, took upon himself the general supervision of
their education, and presided over their classes of instruction.[149]
As is shown by the correspondence of Cicero, Atticus, Pliny, and
others, these educated slaves frequently came into very close personal
relations with their masters, and were cherished as valued friends.
The writers who were employed in the duplicating of books were called
_librarii_, correspondence clerks, _amanuenses_, and the official
clerks of public functionaries, _scribæ_. An inscription quoted by
Gruter indicates that the work of book-copying was sometimes confided
to women--_Sextia Xanta scriba Libraria_. Copyists who devoted
themselves to deciphering and transcribing old manuscripts, were known
as _antiquarii_. The term _notarii_ was applied to those who wrote at
dictation, taking reports of speeches and of public meetings, testimony
of witnesses, notes of judicial proceedings, etc. They were called
_notarii_ because they took notes, often in a kind of shorthand. Such a
man was Tiro, a freedman of Cicero.
The man whose name is most intimately connected with the work of
publishing in the time of Cicero was Titus Pomponius Atticus, who
is perhaps best known to us through his correspondence with Cicero.
Atticus organized (about 65 B.C.) a great book-manufacturing
establishment in Rome, with connections in Athens and Alexandria. He
was himself a thorough scholar, and it was because he was so well
versed in the Greek language and literature that the name Atticus had
been given to him. It is probable that his earliest publishing ventures
were editions of the Greek classics, and it is certain that these
always formed a very important proportion of his undertakings. He had
himself brought from Greece an extensive and valuable collection of
manuscripts, which he placed at the service of Cicero and of other of
his literary friends, and the development of the work of his scribes
from the transcription of a few copies for their friends to the
publication of editions for the reading public was a very natural one.
The editions issued by Atticus, which came to be known as “Attikians,”
Ἀττικίανά, secured wide repute for their accuracy, and came to be
referred to as the authoritative texts. The term “Attikians” appears
to have been used as we might to-day, in referring to Teubner’s Greek
classics, say “the Teubners.” Haenny speaks[150] of the “Attikians”
as welcomed by scholars for their accuracy and completeness. H.
Sauppe tells us that the text of the oration of Demosthenes against
Androtion is based upon the issue of Atticus.[151] Harpocration refers
to the “Atticus texts” of this oration, and also of Æschines.[152]
Galen makes mention of the Atticus edition of Plato’s _Timæus_.[153]
Haenny points out that some question has been raised as to whether
the term “_Attikiana_” always referred to the editions of Titus
Pomponius Atticus.[154] He concludes, with Birt, that this term may,
later, having come to stand for accurate texts and carefully prepared
editions, have occasionally been applied to issues of a later period
which could properly be so described or as a term of compliment. When,
however, it was used in connection with works presumably issued between
65 and 35 B.C., it must be understood as referring to the publications
of Titus Pomponius. Fronto always spoke of him simply as Atticus,
and he is so referred to several times by Plutarch. Hemsterhuis[155]
quotes a reference by Lucian. “You appear to think,” says Lucian to the
“book-fools,” bibliomaniacs, “that it is essential for scholarship to
possess many books. Therein, however, you show your ignorance.”
Atticus brought to Rome skilled _librarii_ from Athens, and gave
personal attention to the training of young slaves for his staff of
copyists. He seems also to have sent manuscripts for copying to both
Athens and Alexandria, probably while he was still completing the
organization of his own staff. Such commissions may also have been
due to the fact previously referred to, that of many works the well
authenticated texts could be found only in those two cities, and after
the time of Philadelphus, more particularly in Alexandria.
Atticus was a large collector of books, and won also some reputation
as an author, although his principal work, a series of chronological
tables, belonged perhaps rather to records than to literature proper.
Cicero speaks warmly both of the excellent literary judgment and of
the warm liberality of his publishing friend, and it seems certain
that Atticus took an important part in furthering the development of
Latin literature, and in organizing the publishing machinery which
was thereafter to make it possible for Latin writers to secure some
remuneration for their labors. He seems, in fact, in every way to have
been a model publisher, and to have well deserved the honor of being
the first of his guild whose name has been preserved in the history of
Latin literature. While giving due credit to his wide-minded liberality
in his dealings with authors, and to his public-spirited expenditure in
behalf of literature, it is in order to bear in mind that with Atticus
publishing, while probably carried on with good business methods, was
rather a high-minded diversion than a money-making occupation. His
chief business was that of banking, in which he became very wealthy.
It is not so difficult to be a Mæcenas among publishers if one is only
a Mæcenas to begin with. It is probable from the little that can be
learned concerning the expenses of book-making and the possibilities
of book-selling, that the publishing interests of Atticus brought
him (as far at least as money is concerned) deficiencies instead
of profits, but he doubtless considered that he was, nevertheless,
a gainer by literature when he had taken into account at its full
value the friendship of Cicero. Among the earlier writings of Cicero
certainly published by Atticus were the _Letters_, the _De Oratore_,
the _Academic Discourses_, and the _Oration for Ligarius_.[156]
Cicero seems to have been especially well satisfied with the account
of sales rendered for this last, for he writes: “You have done so
well with my _Discourse for Ligarius_, that I propose hereafter to
place in your hands the sale of all my writings”--_Ligarianam præclare
vendidisti; posthac, quidquid scripsero, tibi præconium deferam_.[157]
Several pieces of information are given by this letter. It appears that
Cicero was in the habit of securing remuneration from the sale of his
published works, and that this remuneration was proportioned to the
extent of the sales, and must therefore have been in the shape either
of a royalty or of a share of the net profits. It is further clear from
the emphasis given to his decision that Atticus should publish his
future works, that some other publishing arrangements were within his
reach, and therefore that there were already other publishers whose
facilities were worth consideration in comparison with those of Atticus.
In this same letter Cicero tells his publishers that he has discovered
an error in this _Ligarian Oration_ (he had spoken of a certain
Corfidius who had been dead for some years as if he were still living),
and that before any more copies were sold, at least three of the
_librarii_ must be put to work to make the necessary correction, from
which it appears that the “remainder” of the edition comprised a good
many copies.
A passage in another letter shows that the ancient, like the modern,
publisher had to keep a record of complimentary copies given away under
instructions of the author, so as to avoid the risk of including these
among the copies accounted for as sold. “I am obliged to you,” writes
Cicero, “for sending me the work by Serapion. I have given orders that
the price of this should be paid to you at once, so that you should not
have it entered on your register of complimentary copies.”[158]
While the _De Oratore_ was in course of publication, Cicero discovered
that a quotation had been ascribed to Aristophanes which should
properly have been credited to Eupolis. Some copies had already been
sold, but Cicero begs Atticus to have the correction made in all the
copies remaining in the shop, and, as far as possible, to have the
buyers looked up so that their copies might also be corrected.
Simcox says that “Cicero’s smaller treatises, the _Lælius_ and the
_Cato_, were probably, like the _De Officiis_, based upon Greek works,
which he adapted with a well founded confidence that as a great writer
he could improve the style, and that a Roman of rank ought to be able
to improve the substance.”[159] The suggestion is interesting as
indicating a change in the mental attitude of a Roman writer towards
Greek literature.
Cicero used Atticus not only as a publisher but as a literary
counsellor and critic, and evidently placed great confidence in his
friend’s critical judgment. He speaks of waiting in apprehension
for the “crayon strokes” (across the papyrus sheets)--_Cerulas enim
tuas miniatas illas extimescebam._[160] Atticus criticises freely,
indicates misused words and erroneous historic references, and suggests
emendations.[161]
It seems evident, from the wording of certain references, that the
copies prepared for sale were usually at least themselves the property
of the bibliophile. Cicero speaks of _libri tui_,[162] and says also,
_illa quæ habes de Academicis_.[163] On the other hand, the author and
publisher, occasionally, at least, assumed equal shares of the cost
of the paper (papyrus). Cicero writes to Atticus, _quoniam impensam
fecimus in macrocolla, facile patior teneri_.[164] This share taken
by the author in the outlay in addition to his investment of literary
labor, may very properly have been taken into account in arriving at a
division of the profits, but we have no figures to show on what basis
such division was made. While the _Discourse on Ligarius_ produced,
as we have seen, a profit, the publication of the first series of
_Academic Discourses_ (_Academica Priora_) resulted in loss, and the
full amount of this loss appears to have been borne by the publisher.
Cicero, referring to the large portion of the edition remaining
unsold, writes, _tu illam jacturam feres æquo animo, quod illa, quæ
habes de Academicis, frustra descripta sunt; multo tamen hæc_ (_i.
e._, _academica posteriora_, the later or the revised series) _erunt
splendidiora, breviora, meliora_.[165] “You will bear the loss with
equanimity, since the copies that you have left on your hands of the
_Academic Discourses_ comprise in fact but a portion of the venture.
The revised editions of these will be more brilliant, more compact, and
in every way better.” Cicero wishes to show that this revision should
certainly prove popular and salable, and should more than make up the
loss incurred on the first edition.
Birt points out[166] the difference in the publishing arrangements
entered into by Cicero from those referred to by Martial. Cicero has
apparently a direct business interest in the continued sale of his
books, an interest, therefore, probably based upon a percentage.
Martial, on the other hand, appears to have accepted from the
publishers some round sum, a _præmium libellorum_, for each of his
several works, a sum which is evidently too small to make him happy.
On this ground he says it is, from a pecuniary point of view, a matter
of indifference to him whether his writings find few readers or
many--_Quid prodest? nescit sacculus ista meus._[167] Unfortunately no
catalogue or even partial list of the publishing ventures of Atticus
has been preserved, and the references in the letters of Cicero are
almost the sole source of information in regard to them. Cicero speaks
of the treatise of Aulus Hirtius upon Cato as one of the publications
of Atticus.[168] Birt finds record of the issue by him of a series
of carefully edited Greek classics (published in the original),
for the texts of which the trustworthy manuscripts of the Athenian
“calligrapher,” or copyist, Callinus were followed.[169] Birt is also
my authority for the conclusion that Atticus did not confine his book
business to his publishing house, but that he established retail shops,
_tabernarii_, in different quarters of Rome, and possibly also in one
or two of the great provincial capitals.[170]
While no publisher of the time occupied any such prominent position in
the world of letters as Atticus, it seems evident from the references
made by Roman authors to the arrangements for the sale of their books,
that other publishing concerns already existed in Rome, although no
other names have been preserved. It is probable that no one of his
contemporaries possessed the exceptional advantages afforded by the
wealth of Atticus in carrying on literary undertakings of uncertain
business value, and it is probable also that the competition of a
publisher to whom the financial result of his venture was a matter of
small importance, must frequently have been perplexing to the dealers
whose capital was limited and whose income was dependent upon their
publishing business. In fact, the exceptional business methods of
Atticus may easily for a time have discouraged or rendered difficult
the development on sound business foundations of publishing in Rome.
Important as the undertakings of Atticus unquestionably were for the
furthering of the production and the distribution of literature, in
Rome, we should have known practically nothing concerning his work
as a publisher if it were not for the fortunate preservation of the
series of letters written to him by Cicero. If these letters had been
destroyed, the name of Atticus would have come into the history of
his time only as that of a rich banker and a public-spirited citizen.
The honorable friendship between this old-time publisher and his most
important author was of service to literature in more ways than one.
Other Roman publishers of greater importance must have taken up the
work of Atticus, but no similar series of letters has been preserved
to commemorate their virtues and their services. Boissier[171] is of
opinion that Tiro acted as publisher for certain of Cicero’s writings;
he uses the phrase _Tiron et Atticus, les deux éditeurs de Cicéron_.
The evidences, however, concerning Tiro’s career as a publisher do
not appear to be conclusive. Tiro was a favorite slave of Cicero, a
Greek by birth, and evidently a man of education. He served as Cicero’s
secretary, and, as the correspondence shows, was regarded by his master
as a valued friend. As secretary, he unquestionably had during Cicero’s
lifetime a full share of responsibility in preparing Cicero’s writings
for publication, and after the death of his master he appears to have
acted as a kind of literary executor.
It is probably to this class of service that Quintilian referred when
he spoke of him as the compiler and publisher of the writings of Marcus
Tullius.[172] Gellius, in quoting the fifth oration against Verres,
speaks of the edition or the “book” as one of accepted authority,
prepared under the supervision and personal knowledge of Tiro.[173]
Haenny is of opinion that Tiro never had any publishing business,
but that his services were simply those first of a secretary and
later of an editor and literary executor. Seneca is authority for the
statement that after the death of Cicero his works and the right to
their continued publication were bought from Atticus by the bookseller
Dorus;[174] see also Birt.[175] This same Dorus was, says Seneca, the
publisher of the history of Livy: _Sic potest T. Livius a Doro accipere
aut emere libros suos_.
The writings of Catullus and the famous treatise on the _Nature of
Things_ of Lucretius were the most important of the works published
between 75 and 50 B.C. during the time of Cicero’s correspondence
with Atticus. Lucretius appears to have had little personal vanity
concerning his work, which did not appear until after his death. It is
probable, but not certain, that the former was issued by Atticus.
Géraud says that there were at this time in Rome a large number of
public writers, or professional copyists (_librarii_), who devoted
themselves to transcribing for sale the older classics, and who also
took commissions from authors for the production of small editions of
volumes prepared for private circulation.[176] Their work might in
fact be compared to that of the typewriters of to-day, whose signs are
multiplying in all our large cities. These “writers” were principally
Greeks, and it was probably for this cause that their Latin work not
infrequently evoked criticism. Cicero, writing to his brother Quintus,
concerning some Latin books which Quintus had asked him to purchase,
says it was difficult to know where to go for these, because most of
the texts offered for sale were so bad--_ita mendose et scribuntur et
veneunt_.[177]
These _librarii_ took upon themselves the work not only of transcribing
but of binding and decorating the covers of the books sold by them. The
contrast between a scribe of this kind, working at bookmaking in his
stall like a cobbler making shoes, and the great establishment of the
banker-publisher Atticus, must have been marked enough.
_Non modo hoc tibi, salse, sic abibit;
Nam, si luxerit, ad librariorum
Curram scrinia, Cæsios, Aquinos
Suffenum, omnia colligam venena,
Ac te his suppliciis remunerabor._[178]
Atticus died, full of years and honors, in the year 32 B.C. If he
had only had the consideration to leave some memoirs for posterity,
we should have much more satisfactory knowledge than is now possible
concerning the relations of Roman authors with their publishers and
with the public during the first century before Christ. We have not
even, however, any of his letters to Cicero, letters which would of
course have had a special interest in making clear the nature of his
publishing arrangements with his authors.
In the year 48 B.C. appeared a work whose vitality has proved
exceptional, and which, thanks to the school-boys, is to-day, nineteen
hundred years after the death of its author, in continued demand. I
refer to Cæsar’s _Commentaries on the Gallic Wars_. This book could
certainly have been made a magnificent “property” for its author, but
as he was literally intent upon “wanting the earth,” the ownership
of one book was hardly worth any special thought. As a fact, we have
no details whatever of Cæsar’s publishing arrangements, although we
do know that by means of some distributing machinery copies of the
_Commentaries_ speedily reached the farthest (civilized) corners of the
Roman dominion.
Virgil’s _Æneid_ was, we are told, given to the world through Varius
and Tucca, about 18 B.C. The sixth book was read to Augustus and Livia
in 22, the year of the death of Marcellus. The publication of the
_Æneid_ took place at a time when the machinery for the production and
distribution of books was beginning to be adequately organized. It
seems evident that it was only after the institution of the Empire that
the publishers of Rome were in a position to reach with their editions
any wide public outside of Rome and the principal cities of Italy.
About the year 40 B.C. the poet Horace, then twenty-five years old,
came to Rome with the hope, as he states, of obtaining a living through
literature. His estate at Venusia had been confiscated, owing to his
having borne arms at Philippi on the defeated side, and he was now
dependent upon his own exertions.[179] He found at Rome a literary
circle of growing importance. It was the beginning of the Augustan
age, and literature was the fashion with the court circles of the new
Empire, and therefore with the society leaders who took the court
fashions for their model. Through the kindness of Virgil, the young
poet was introduced to Mæcenas, the wealthy statesman whose princely
patronage of literature has become proverbial.
The liberality of Mæcenas supplied the immediate needs of the poet, and
he appears never to have had an opportunity of finding out whether,
apart from the aid of patronage, he could actually have supported
himself through the sale of his poems. In fact, a little later, when
for a time at least he possesses, through the friendship of Mæcenas,
an assured income he appears to have taken the position of refusing to
permit his books to be sold, and of writing only for the perusal of his
friends.[180]
His first expectancy, however, in regard to the possibilities of a
literary career, give grounds for the belief that at the time of the
beginning of the Empire the publishing machinery of the capital was
already adequately organized, and that the writers whom Horace found in
Rome, including Virgil, Tibullus, Propertius, Varius, Valgius, and many
others, were securing, apart from the gifts of the emperor or of other
patrons of literature, some compensation from the reading public. On
this point, however, Horace has himself given other evidence, which, if
somewhat unsatisfactory concerning the matter of author’s compensation,
is at least clear as to the existence of machinery for the making and
distributing of books, and which also indicates that his resolution not
to offer his books for sale had not been adhered to. He refers to the
brothers Sosii as his publishers, and complains that while his works
brought gold to them, for their author they earned only fame in distant
lands and with posterity.
_Hic meret æra liber Sosiis, hic et mare transit,
Et longum noto scriptori prorogat ævum._[181]
A complaint so worded is of course perfectly compatible with the
existence of a publishing arrangement under which Horace was to
receive an author’s share of any profits accruing. Precisely similar
complaints are frequent enough to-day when all new books are issued
under the protection of domestic copyright and under publishing
agreements, and while sometimes an indication that the publisher has
managed to secure more than his share of the proceeds of literary
labor, they are much more frequently simply the expression of the
difference between the author’s large expectations concerning the
public demand for his books and the actual extent of such demand.
If publishing statistics could be brought into print, they would show
numberless instances in which the author’s calculations concerning the
number of copies of their books which the public “could be depended
upon” to call for, or “must certainly have called for,” were as much
out of the way as have been the estimates of defeated generals as to
the numbers of the forces by which they had been overwhelmed. It is
certainly to be regretted that the brothers Sosii have not left us
some records from which could be gathered their side of the story
of their dealings with the court poet. There are instances in later
times of firms which have found the honor of being publishers for a
poet-laureate bringing more prestige than profit.
The shop of the Sosii was in the _Vicus Tuscus_, near the entrance to
the temple of Janus. In the first book of Horace’s _Epistles_ we find
the lines:
_Vertumnum Janumque, liber, spectare videris,
Scilicet ut prostes Sosiorum pumice mundus._[182]
Horace finds occasion to inveigh against plagiarists as well as against
publishers, and here his indignation is probably better founded. The
literature of Rome was, as before pointed out, based on a long series
of “appropriations” and adaptations from the Greeks, and the habit,
thus early initiated, doubtless became pretty deeply rooted. Virgil
complains:
_Hos ego versiculos feci; tulit alter honores,
Sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves._[183]
Horace writes:[184]
_O imitatores, servum pecus ut mihi sæpe,
Bilem, sæpe jocum vestri movere tumultus._
It seems probable that by this stage in the development of literature,
the indignation of an author against plagiarists was not merely on the
ground of interference with literary prestige or of the wrongfulness of
a writer’s securing honor falsely, but because plagiarism might involve
an actual injury to literary property. The first application to
literary theft of the term _plagium_ (from which is derived the French
_plagiaire_ and the English “plagiarism”), was made by Martial. In the
legal terminology of Rome, _plagium_ was used to designate the crime of
man-stealing, and a _plagiarius_ was one who stole from another a slave
or a child, or who undertook to buy or to sell into slavery one who
was legally free. The use of so strong a term to characterize literary
“appropriations” is sufficient evidence of the opinion of Martial that
such a proceeding was a crime. Martial’s word has been adopted, but
later generations of writers do not appear to have fully accepted his
views of the criminal nature of the practice.[185]
Simcox is of opinion[186] that the poets of the Augustan age certainly
expected to make a certain profit by the sale of their books. They also
had expectations of profiting by the gifts of the emperor or of other
rich patrons of literature, but there must have been not a few writers
who were not fortunate enough to secure the favor either of the court
or of the grandees who followed the fashion of the court, and to whom
the receipts from the booksellers would have been a matter of no little
importance and might frequently have provided only the means for
continued sojourn in the capital. It could only have been the receipts
from sales that Horace had in mind when he wrote that mediocrity in
poets is intolerable, not only to gods and men, but to booksellers, as
if to the poets the approval of the booksellers was of more importance
than that of either the gods or their fellow-men.[187] It would seem as
if either the gods or the publishers must have been too lenient during
the past eighteen centuries in their treatment of the poets, for the
amount of mediocre verse turned out from year to year is certainly no
smaller, considered in proportion to the entire mass of poetry, than it
was in the days of Horace.
The scanty references which can be traced in Latin literature of
the first century to the relations of authors with the book-trade
appear, as might be expected, almost exclusively in the writings of
the society poets. In such chronicles as those of Sallust and Livy,
narratives written for other purposes than for literary prestige or
for bookselling profits, and which had perhaps almost as much to do
with the politics of the day (“present history”) as with the history of
the State (“past politics”), there was naturally no place for such an
insignificant detail as the arrangements of the authors for placing
their books upon the market. References to booksellers would have been
equally out of place in such a national epic as the _Æneid_ or a great
didactic poem like the _Georgics_.
What little is known, therefore, concerning the bookselling methods of
the time must be gathered from the casual allusions found in the verses
of such writers as Horace, Ovid, Juvenal, and Martial, and particularly
of the last-named.
When (about 7 A.D.) Ovid was banished by the aged Augustus to Tomi,
a dreary frontier town somewhere near the mouth of the Danube, he
complains that he finds there no libraries, no booksellers. He is
surrounded by the din of weapons and the tedious talk of soldiers. He
has no single associate who is interested in literature, or whose taste
or judgment he could call upon for literary counsel.
_Non hic librorum, per quos inviter alarque,
Copia; pro libris arcus et arma sonant,
Nullus in hac terra, recitem si carmina, cujus
Intellecturis auribus utar, adest._
From expressions like these, one can gather an impression of the
circles the gay society poet had left behind him in his mourned-for
Rome--the libraries and book-shops, where he could always find
literary friends to whose appreciative criticism he could submit his
latest lines. The picture recalls the literary resorts of London in the
time of Wycherley and Congreve.
Ovid sends one of his productions to a friend in Rome, whom he requests
to supervise its publication. He writes:
“O thou who art an instructor and a priest among the learned! I commend
to your care this my offspring. Bereft of its parent (an exile), it
must place its dependence upon you its guardian. Three of my (literary)
progeny have preceded this. See that my future productions are given to
the world through yourself.”[188]
Martial presents himself to the public with a cordial appreciation of
his own merits:
_Hic is quem legis ille, quem requiris,
Toto notus in orbe Martialis
Argutis epigrammaton libellis._[189]
“This is he whom you read and whom you seek--Martial, famous throughout
the world for his brilliant volumes of epigrams.” He goes on to say:
_Ne tamen ignores ubi sim venalis, et erres
Urbe vagus tota, me duce certus eris._[190]
“Lest, however, you should perchance not know where I am for sale, and
should go astray and wander over the whole city, you shall be made sure
of your way by my directions.” He then adds the direction:
_Libertum docti Lucensis quære Secundum
Limina post Pacis Palladiumque forum._
“Look for Secundus, the freedman of the learned citizen Lucensis, (you
will find him) behind the threshold of Pax and the forum of Pallas.”
Secundus appears to have been the Tauchnitz of his day, and to have
prepared editions in compact form for travellers:
_Qui tecum cupis esse meos ubicunque libellos
Et comites longæ quæris habere viæ,
Hos eme, quos arctat brevibus membrana tabellis._
“You who desire to have my books with you wherever you are, and to make
them the companions of your long journeys, buy those which have been
put up in compact form” (literally, “which the parchment compresses
into small pages”).
Martial was apparently a chronic grumbler, and the record of his
various complaints about his publishers and his public has been of
not a little service in throwing light upon certain details of the
publishing methods of his time. He was evidently one of the writers
who kept a close watch on the receipts from the sales of his books.
He maintained that a poet was perfectly justified in refusing to give
presentation copies, because these interfered with the receipts from
his booksellers.
He writes, for instance, to his friend Lupercus:
_Occurris quotiens, Luperce nobis
Vis mittam puerum, subinde dicis,
Cui tradas epigrammaton libellum
Lectum quem tibi protinus remittam?
Non est quod puerum, Luperce, vexes.
Longum est, si velit ad Pyrum venire,
Et scalis habito tribus, sed altis.
Quod quæris proprius petas licebit;
Argi nempe soles subire letum.
Contra Cæsaris est forum taberna
Scriptis postibus hinc et inde totis,
Omnes ut cito perlegas poetas.--
Illinc me pete; nec roges Atrectum,
(Hoc nomen dominus gerit tabernæ);
De primo dabit, alterove nido
Rasum pumice purpuraque cultum,
Denariis tibi quinque Martialem.
“Tanti non es,” ais! Sapis, Luperce._[191]
“Every time you meet me, Lupercus, you say something about sending
a slave to my house to borrow a volume of my Epigrams. Do not give
your slave the trouble. It is a long distance to my part of the
city, and my rooms are high up on the third story. You can get
what you want close to your abode. You often visit the quarter of
the Argiletum. You will find there, near the Square of Cæsar, a
shop the doors of which are covered on both sides with the names
of poets, so arranged that you can at a glance run over the list.
Enter there and mention my name. Without waiting to be asked
twice, Atrectus, the master of the shop, will take from his first
or second shelf a copy of Martial, well finished, and beautifully
bound with a purple cover, and this he will give you in exchange
for five deniers. What! Do you say it is not worth the price? O
wise Lupercus!”
Martial takes occasion to recommend to another acquaintance (but on
an entirely different ground) the propriety of purchasing rather than
appropriating his productions.
He writes to a certain Fidentinus:
_Fama refert nostros te, Fidentine, libellos
Non aliter populo quam recitare tuos.
Si mea vis dici, gratis tibi carmina mittam,
Si dici tua vis, haec eme, ne mea sint._[192]
“It is said, Fidentinus, that in reciting my verses you always
speak of them as your own. If you are willing to credit them to
me, I will send them to you gratis. If, however, you wish to have
them called your verses, you had better buy them, when they will no
longer belong to me.”
It is possible that Martial intends by this to suggest to Fidentinus
the purchase of the author’s “rights” in these verses, “‘rights,’ which
he was willing to sell for a price.” It is more probable, however, that
he wanted to shame the plagiarist at least into the buying of some
copies.
Martial writes in a similar strain to Quintus:
_Exigis ut donem nostros tibi, Quinte, libellos.
Non habeo; sed habet bibliopola Tryphon.
Æs dabo pro nugis et emam tua carmina sanus?
Non, inquis, faciam tam fatue. Nec ego._[193]
“You ask, Quintus, that I shall make you a present of my poems.
I, myself, have no copies, but the bookseller Tryphon has some.
You may say to yourself, ‘Shall I give money for such trifles?’
‘Shall I, being of sound mind, buy your verses?’ ‘No, indeed,’ you
conclude, ‘I will commit no such folly.’ Neither, then, will I.”
It was Martial’s idea that the proper use of presentation copies
was not for needy friends but for influential patrons, from whom
substantial acknowledgments could be looked for in the shape of
_honoraria_. He begs the court chamberlain, Parthenius, to bring his
modest little book (_timida brevisque charta_) to the attention of the
Emperor.[194] He asks Faustinus to give a copy to Marcellinus,[195] and
begs Rufus to present two copies to Venulejus.[196]
The hopes of the author in connection with these presentation copies
are indicated by such lines as the following:
_Editur en sextus sine te mihi Rufe Camoni,
Nec te lectorem sperat, amice, liber._[197]
Or by these:
_O quantum tibi nominis paratur
O quæ gloria! quam frequens amator!
Te convivia, te forum sonabit,
Ædes, compita, porticus, tabernæ,
Uni mitteris, omnibus legeris._
It is evident that a book frequently secured through such personal
distribution on the part of the author a certain circulation and
publication before copies were placed upon the bookstands, or before
it was given into the hands of any bookseller acting as its publisher.
Haenny is of opinion that the anxiety of authors like Martial to come
into relations with patrons and to secure from them _honoraria_ may
be taken as indicating that they could depend upon no receipts from
the booksellers. It seems to me that another interpretation is equally
plausible. We find an author like Martial needy, eager for money,
taking pains to cultivate the favor of the wealthy and the influential
in the hopes of securing benefits at their hands. We find him also
doing all in his power to push the sale of his books through the
booksellers, telling the public where to go and how much they will have
to pay, himself writing the publishing announcements of his new books,
and in every way evincing the keenest interest in the sales secured for
them. It seems natural enough to conclude that he derived a direct
business advantage from these sales, and such a conclusion is in accord
with what we know of the character of the man, and is borne out by
various references in his writings.
In one epigram[198] Martial laments that no one of his readers has
felt moved, in return for the gratification secured from his writings,
to make him a present such as Virgil received from Mæcenas: _tantum
gratis pagina nostra placet_, an expression which has been interpreted
as indicating that this author received no return either direct or
indirect from those buying his books. In another utterance, however, he
mourns his loss of receipts when for a long time he has published no
new thing, but even then he considers that the loss to the public has
been much more serious.[199]
In thus speaking of his indifference to the number of his readers, he
appears to have either forgotten, or as a matter of affectation to have
ignored, the fact that while a large sale for a particular book already
paid for by the publisher, could not increase the author’s gains for
that particular work, it would certainly put him in a position to
secure a higher price from the publisher for his next similar work.
In this way the author would have a very direct pecuniary interest in
securing the largest possible number of readers even for books which
had been purchased outright by the publisher.
A. Schmidt is one of the students of the subject who believes there
is evidence to show that, according to the usual practice, the author
received compensation from the publisher not in the form of a royalty,
but as an advance payment on the delivery of the manuscript or on the
publication of the book.[200]
Among other quotations he cites the following:
_Quamvis tam longo possis satur esse libello,
Lector, adhuc a me disticha pauca petis,
Sed Lupus usuram puerique diaria poscunt,
Lector, solve. Taces, dissimulasque? Vale._
The reader, however much pleased with the poem given, is supposed to be
expecting a few additional verses; but the usurer Lupus is calling upon
the poet for his money, and the poet’s children are crying for bread.
(Therefore) O reader, make payment (to me, in need, from whom you have
received benefit). (What!) You make no response. You pretend (not to
understand). Farewell!--(“I have no use for you,” would be the modern
slang.)
The passage presents difficulties, and has been variously interpreted.
Schmidt reads for “_solve_” “_salve_.” I base my reading on the text
given by Haenny.
In another epigram he notes that the edition of his _Xenii_ could be
bought from his publisher, Tryphon, for four sesterces (the equivalent
of about twelve and a half cents).
He grumbles at the price as being too high, contending that Tryphon
could have secured a fair profit from half the amount. He adds: “These
verses, O reader, you will, however, find convenient for presents for
your friends, at least if your purse is as scantily furnished as is my
own.”
_Omnis in hoc gracili xeniorum turba libello
Constabit nummis quatuor empta tibi.
Quatuor est nimium? poterit constare duobus,
Et faciet lucrum bibliopola Tryphon.
Hæc licet hospitibus pro munere disticha mittas,
Si tibi tam rarus quam mihi nummus erit._[201]
_Nulla remisisti parvo pro munere dona,_
* * * * *
_Decipies alios verbis vultuque benigno,
Nam mihi jam notus dissimulator eris._[202]
Here we have a reproach (which may also serve as a suggestion) to
the reader. “You have sent me no gift [or _honorarium_] as an
acknowledgment [of the pleasure given to you]. Others may be deceived
by your words and your smiling countenance [into believing you to be
a fair-minded man who would recognize his obligations]. To me it is
evident you are a dissembler.” (The term is apparently used here to
describe one shirking an obligation).
Martial is quite clear in his mind that no one who has read his
productions and has not felt an indebtedness to their author, and who
has not taken measures to discharge the same, can be an honorable man.
_Et tantum gratis pagina nostra placet._[203]
“My book gives so much pleasure at no cost” (to the receiver).
_Dicitur et nostros cantare Britannia versus.
Quid prodest? nescit sacculus ista meus._[204]
“It is said that (even in distant) Britain my verses are sung. What
advantage is that? [to me]. My purse knows nothing of it.”
Such a complaint may be interpreted in one of several ways. The author
may have had payment for his Italian editions, but have been unable
to exercise control over unauthorized issues of his books in distant
parts of the empire; or he may have sold to his distributing publisher,
Tryphon, all rights in the verses, in which case the direct advantage
of extended sales would accrue only to the publisher; or there may have
been no actual sales in Britain, but single copies carried by officers
or travellers may have found their way there, and their presence,
referred to in correspondence or by returning travellers, have given to
the author the impression that a large reading public in the far north
was appreciating his poetry. A very slight reference would serve to
excite the imagination of so self-confident an author as Martial.
Martial seems to have been in the habit, not unknown to modern writers,
and particularly to English writers, of pitting one publisher against
another, in order to secure the largest bid for a new work. At one time
he had no less than four publishers in charge of the sale of his works,
Tryphon, Atrectus, Polius, and Secundus.
The last named issued a special pocket edition of the _Epigrams_.
Atrectus, Secundus, and Tryphon have already been referred to. To the
fourth, Quintus Valerianus Polius, had it seems been given over the
earlier productions of the poet, which he terms his _juvenilia_. He
commends Polius to the reading public in the following lines:
_Quæcunque lusi juvenis et puer quondam
Apinasque nostras, quas nec ipse jam novi
Male collocare si bonas voles horas
Et invidebis otio tuo, lector,
A Valeriano Polio petes Quinto,
Per quem perire non licet meis nugis._[205]
“The trifles that I scribbled in the callow days of my youth,
productions which I myself hardly remember, these you may secure (if
you have a grudge against your leisure and are willing to waste a few
hours) from Polius, through whose care my trifles are preserved from
oblivion.”
It seems probable that Atrectus gave special attention to the more
elaborate and artistic editions, such as are to-day rather clumsily
described as _editions de luxe_. It is in his shop that the volumes
are to be found with the ornate purple covers. As far as can be judged
from the references, Atrectus, Polius, and Secundus had simply a
local trade. Tryphon, on the other hand, we know to have possessed a
publishing and distributing machinery. As Haenny remarks, it was no
small matter to provide with Martial’s writings not only Rome, but
Italy, the provinces, and the outlying corners of the empire. While
he was still a beginner in literature, Martial had to be satisfied
with the services of Polius, who continued later to keep in sale
the _juvenilia_. It was only after the poet had become known in the
fashionable literary world that he was able to secure the co-operation
of a leading publisher like Tryphon.
If we were to-day referring to such a publishing relation, we should
speak of securing the imprint of the publisher. As has been explained,
however, the practice of associating with a work the name of its
publisher began with printed books. The Roman publisher sent out his
manuscript copies with no indication of the address of the shop in
which they had been prepared.
The poet tells us that he prepared the advertisements for the
booksellers, putting these in the form of epigrams, but not neglecting
to specify the form and price of each book as well as the place where
it was offered for sale.
_Qui tecum cupis esse meos ubicunque libellos,
Et comites longæ quæris habere viæ,
Hos eme quos arctat brevibus membrana tabellis;
Scrinia da magnis, me manus una capit._
····
_Libertum docti Lucensis quære Secundum
Limina post Pacis, Palladiumque forum._[206]
The idea of an epigrammatic advertisement recalls the announcement
(identical with the rhyming title-page) of the first edition of
Lowell’s _Fable for Critics_.
“Reader! Walk up at once (it will soon be too late) and buy at a
perfectly ruinous rate,
A Fable For Critics, or better
(I like, as a thing that the reader’s first fancy may strike,
an old-fashioned title-page, such as presents
a tabular view of the volume’s contents),
A glance at a few of our Literary progenies
(Mrs. Malaprop’s word)
From the tub of Diogenes,
A vocal and musical medley, that is
A series of Jokes by a Wonderful Quiz,
Who accompanies himself with a rub-a-dub-dub,
Full of spirit and grace, on the top of the tub.
Set forth in October, the 21st day,
In the year ’48, G. P. Putnam, Broadway.”
It is a pity that one of Martial’s advertisements could not have
been preserved to compare with the above, which strikes one as quite
Martialesque in its general style.
According to Schmidt,[207] Martial’s activities in connection with
the sale of his books did not end even with the preparation of the
advertisements. In certain cases he was himself engaged in finding
buyers for copies. It is probable that such author’s copies formed
part of the compensation paid by the publisher for the manuscript,
and while by the wealthier authors these would be bestowed “with
compliments” upon their friends, the needy writers like Martial would
be compelled to turn them into cash. In the eighteenth century in
London we find a similar condition of things in the accounts of what
was then called publishing “by subscription,” when the needy author
would, with his hat in one hand and his subscription list in the other,
wait upon his “gracious patron” in expectation of an order for so many
copies of his new volume at a guinea or more each.
In spite of the careful training given to their copyists by a few
high-class publishers like Atticus, the complaints of inaccurate and
slovenly texts, _libri mendosi_, were frequent. In order to be really
trustworthy, each individual copy of the edition ought, of course, to
have been carefully collated with and read verbatim by the original,
but for an edition of any size, prepared as rapidly as we are told some
of them were, such thorough verification was of course impracticable.
Martial states[208] that a poem of his (we infer that he means an
edition of the poem), comprising 540 lines, had been produced in one
hour, _hæc una peragit hora nec tantum nugis serviet ille meis_. Such
work would of course have been done by employing one or more readers to
dictate to a number of copyists. The number of copies in the edition is
not stated. It could only have been on rare occasions that the author
himself would undertake to correct the copies. Martial speaks of doing
such correcting work in an exceptional case.[209]
Cicero was evidently exacting concerning the accuracy of his copies.
He tells Atticus that by no means must any copies of the treatise _De
Officiis_ be allowed to go out until they had been carefully corrected.
We find an occasional reference to a “press-corrector” known to Atticus
and Cicero by his Greek name Διορθωτήρ. As the author, except in rare
cases, did not get his manuscript again into his hands after this had
gone to his publisher, and saw his work again only when the edition was
completed and about to be distributed, he was saved from the temptation
to make “betterments” by omissions or additions. All such revision
he had attended to with due care before handing over his manuscript
as “ready for publication,” and authors and publishers of classic
times were thus saved the vexation of “extra corrections,” which so
frequently forms a serious addition to the expense account and to the
annoyance account of modern book-making.