Chapter V: Rome (2)

“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.

The risks of errors in the transcription must certainly have been materially increased if in the larger publishing establishments the practice was followed of writing from dictation, one “reader” supplying simultaneous “copy” to a number of scribes. It seems probable that in no other way would it have been practicable to produce with sufficient speed and economy the editions required, and I find myself in accord with Birt in the conclusion that dictating was the method generally followed, at least in the more important establishments and for the larger editions. The scribes must of necessity have had a scholarly training, and ought also to have possessed some familiarity with the texts to which they were listening; while with the most skilful and scholarly scribes a careful revision of their copies would have been essential.

Haenny is of opinion that dictation was rarely if ever employed. He lays stress on the fact that the term employed by Cicero in referring to the multiplication of copies was _describere_, and he contends that this stands simply for copying and cannot be translated as writing from dictation.[210]

One indication of the size of the editions prepared of new books is given in the many references to the various uses found for the “remainders” or unsold copies. The most frequent fate of unsuccessful poetry was for the wrapping of fish and groceries, while large supplies of surplus stock found their way from the booksellers to the fires of the public baths.[211] Cooks also were large buyers of remainders of editions. An author who was voluminous and who had not been able to secure a publisher, might even, as the wags suggested, find it convenient to be burned upon a pile of his own manuscripts. It is evident that in these earlier days of publishing it was no easier than at present for authors or publishers to calculate with accuracy the extent of the public interest in their productions, while it is also probable that then as now an author would rather pay for the making of an abundant supply than incur the dreadful risk of not having enough copies to meet the immediate demand.

While the Augustan age witnessed a decided development in the literary interests of the Roman community, and while the organization of such bookselling establishments as those of Atticus, Tryphon, and the Sosii gave to authors the needed machinery for bringing their writings before the public, it is probable that for the larger number of the writers of the time the receipts from the books were very inconsiderable.

As before pointed out, question has in fact been raised by more than one student of the subject as to whether the Roman authors secured from the sales of their books any money return at all. Of the writers who find no satisfactory evidence for such returns, Haenny is by far the most important. I am myself, however, inclined to accept the conclusions of Birt, Schmitz, Géraud, and others to the effect that Roman authors, from the time of Cæsar down, were able to secure from the publishers or booksellers through whom their books were sold some portion of the proceeds of such sales. The absence of any protection under the law for either author or publisher, the competition of unauthorized editions, the competition (of a different kind) of books published solely for the amusement or the literary satisfaction of their wealthy or fashionable authors, and written without any desire for money return, and the lack of adequate publishing and distributing machinery, unquestionably all operated to make the compensation of such Roman authors as, like Martial, needed the money, fragmentary, uncertain, and at best but inconsiderable. The weight of the evidence, however, seems to me certainly to favor the conclusion that compensation there was, and that it served as one of the inducements for authorship as a career (or as a partial occupation), and served also to attract to the capital (where alone publishing facilities could be secured) literary aspirants from the rest of Italy and from the provinces. Schmitz gives his views as follows[212]:

_Mihi quoque persuasum est, plurimos auctores Romanos gloriæ tantum ac honoris causa scripta sua bibliopolis divulganda tradidisse, quod tamen non impedit, quominus illi interdum pretium a bibliopolis acceperint. Et vere acceperunt._

In Rome, as centuries before in Greece, the compensation for stage-rights and the rewards for playwrights were much more assured and more satisfactory than any that could be secured by writers of books. Comedy writers like Plautus and Terence were able to sell their plays to the Ædiles. Haenny contends that the payments made by the Ædiles ought not strictly to be described as given for the purchase of the plays, but as a recognition on the part of the community, made through its official representatives, of a service rendered--a recognition that took the shape of an _honorarium_. I imagine the playwrights cared very little what the arrangement was called as long as they got the money. As a fact, however, it was the business of the Ædiles to provide plays for the public theatres, and I do not see why the arrangements made by them with Plautus and Terence did not constitute as definite an acknowledgment on the part of the State of the rights of dramatic authors as was the case with similar arrangements made fifteen hundred years later with Molière or Beaumarchais by the State manager of the Théâtre Français.

Schmitz goes on to say:

_Sin autem scripta ab auctoribus cuiusvis generis vendebantur, non video cur non bibliopolæ quoque huic illive auctori pro scriptis certam mercedem solverint._

Is it likely, he contends, that Plautus and Terence, having been paid for their stage-rights (which they practically transferred or sold to the State), would have been satisfied to hand over to the publishers, without compensation, the book-rights of these same plays, the popularity of which had already been tested?

It seems to me possible, however, that in this contention Schmitz proves too much. The publisher might take the ground that a play which had been paid for by the Ædiles for the public welfare had become public property and belonged to the common domain, and that the author had surrendered or assigned to the State such rights in it as he had possessed. Such a theory would have given to the publisher a fair pretext for declining to pay compensation or _honorarium_ for any play that had already been paid for by the Ædiles.

A similar suggestion was made as late as 1892 in the case of the official poems written by Tennyson as poet-laureate. It was contended that the nation paid to the laureate an annual stipend as a specific consideration for the production of poems on certain official occasions, and that the poems thus paid for were the property of the nation. This theory did not prevent the laureate from securing, first from the publication in a monthly, and later from a reissue (with other pieces) in book-form, a large compensation for his royal birthday odes and jubilee hymns. I am inclined to think, however, that if the question had been put to the test, the courts would have decided that the copyright of these productions had become vested in the nation, and that the poems belonged to the public domain.

In calling attention to the frequently quoted twenty-fourth epigram of Martial, Schmitz says:

_Quantulumcunque fuit, merebatur noster libellis suis et quum
dona ab amicis non acciperet, mereri tantum potuit a bibliopolis,
qui carmina sua vendebant.... Quæ sententia probatur alio loco
Martialis, quo damnum se accepisse queritur, quum carmina non
scripserit, doletque prope jam triginta diebus vix unam paginam
peractam esse._

The epigram in question reads as follows:

_Dum te prosequor et domum reduco,
Aurem dum tibi præsto garrienti,
Et quidquid loqueris facisque laudo,
Quot versus poterant, Labulle, nasci?
Hoc damnum tibi non videtur esse,
Si quod Roma legit, requirit hospes,
Non deridet eques, tenet senator,
Laudat causidicus, poeta carpit,
Propter te perit? Hoc, Labulle, verum est?
Hoc quisquam ferat? ut tibi tuorum
Sit major numerus togatulorum,
Librorum mihi sit minor meorum?
Triginta prope jam diebus una est
Nobis pagina vix peracta. Sic fit,
Cum cenare domi poeta non vult._

In translating, I attempt only to present the general purport.

“During the time in which I am in your company, Labullus, and while
escorting you homeward I am listening to your chattering, and am
expected to give attention and praise to whatever you may be saying
or doing, how many verses do you think could I have produced? Do
you not realize how grievous a loss it is [to both author and
public] that what Rome reads, what the stranger asks for, what the
knight does not scorn, what the Senator cherishes as a possession,
what the lawyer praises, what the poet eagerly seizes, that all
this should perish [_i. e._, fail to come into existence], O
Labullus, through your fault? Yet is not this the case? Is it a
thing to be approved that simply to swell the number of your
followers, my literary productions should be diminished? During a
whole month I have hardly been able to complete a page. This is the
inevitable result when the poet is tempted to dine away from home.”

The interpretation placed by Schmidt on these and similar verses, that the _damnum_ stood for a pecuniary loss to the author, and that productions which secured for themselves popular favor brought, therefore, to their authors pecuniary gain, is upheld by Becker. He maintains that authors were evidently attracted to Rome by the prospects of such receipts, and that, to a considerable extent at least, they depended upon the same for their support. “It is not easy to believe,” Becker continues, “that a needy author like Martial, always in want of money, would have been willing to permit Tryphon, Secundus, and Polius to make profits out of his productions without arranging to secure any portion of these profits for himself.”[213] Birt, who, as we have before seen, is a firm believer in the conclusion that Roman writers secured compensation for their work, is of opinion that this compensation must usually have taken the shape of a _præmium_, as Martial puts it, a round payment or _honorarium_, made probably on the delivery of the manuscript, rather than that of a royalty.[214]

One of Martial’s references to the customary _præmium_ occurs in these verses.[215] The poet has been protesting against the weary and unprofitable role of a client or follower. He asks that Rome may spare him from any such thankless and trivial tasks as those which come upon the weary “congratulator,” who, for his dreary service, earns through the day at best but a hundred miserable pennies (_plumbeos_), while Scorpus (the gladiator) carries off in an hour, as victor, fifteen sacks of gleaming gold. Then follow the lines:

_Non ego meorum præmium libellorum,
(Quid enim merentur?) Appulos velim campos,
Non Hybla, non me spicifer capit Nilus,
Nec quæ paludes delicata Pomptinas
Ex arce clivi spectat uva Setini.
Quid concupiscam quæris ergo?--dormire._

“As a reward (_præmium_) for my books (for what, indeed, are they worth?) I ask not for the Appulian fields; neither Hybla nor the fruitful Nile attracts me, nor the luscious grapes which from the Setian hillside hang over the Pontine marshes. You ask what do I then desire; I reply--to sleep.”

These lines should, of course, be interpreted in connection with the poet’s other utterances, which, as we have seen, are not marked by any lack of appreciation of the importance of his literary productions. It seems probable that the query, “what, indeed, are they worth?” is meant as a mere _façon de parler_, and is intended to be answered with a full appreciation of the inestimable value of his poems to the reader and to the community. I judge further that the poet in naming the attractive things of this world which he would _not_ demand as his reward, while, of course, speaking with a certain hyperbole of phrase, is at the same time making a kind of undercurrent of suggestion that fruitful hillsides, or even great provinces, would not, in fact, be a disproportioned reward for talents and services like his. The lines remind one of what Dickens (in his sketch of the election of a beadle) describes as the “great negative style” of oratory. “I will not speak of his valiant services in the militia, I will not refer to his charming wife and nine children, two at the breast,” etc. The important detail in the lines, however, for our present purpose is the reference to a _præmium_ or compensation of some kind or amount as naturally to be looked for and to be depended upon for successful literary production. Taking this reference in connection with others of similar purport, it is, I think, safe to conclude that, notwithstanding the lack of protection of the law, Martial and other writers of his time who were not too rich to require such earnings or too proud to demand them, earned money with their pens, or rather with their _styli_.

I add references to a few other instances of payments or returns to authors.

One of the earliest is mentioned by Suetonius.[216] Pompilius Andronicus, the grammarian, sold his treatise for 1600 sesterces. This sale must have comprised the original manuscript, together with such author’s and publishing “rights” as existed. The younger Pliny is quoted by Birt[217]--as saying that Pliny the elder had, while in Spain, declined an offer from a certain Lucinus of 40,000 sesterces (about $1800.00) for his commentaries. Lucinus was not a publisher, but apparently some enthusiastic admirer of the author.

In another epigram[218] Martial makes a curious slap at two contemporary poets:

_Vendunt carmina Gallus et Lupercus.
Sanos, Classice, nunc nega poetas._

“Gallus and Lupercus sell their poetry. Now deny, O Classicus! that they are real poets (or poets in their right minds, or poets of common sense).”

As Haenny suggests (citing Schrevel), no one dares to deny the sanity of a poet who can get money for his productions, but one might question the sanity of the publisher who pays the money.

Haenny thinks that Martial is sneering at the practice (unworthy of poets) of writing for gain. Such a position seems to me entirely inconsistent with Martial’s other expressions. It seems to me much more likely that Martial is sneering at the idea that these particular writers have produced any poems that are worth money. Lupercus is probably the same person whom Martial rebuked for trying to secure his, Martial’s, poems without paying for them.

In one epigram[219] Martial advises a friend, who comes to him for counsel concerning a profession for his son, by no means to permit him to become a poet. If the boy has money-making desires, let him learn to play on the cithara or the flute. If he seems to have real capacity, he might become a herald or an architect.

In another[220] he points out that no money can be obtained from Phœbus or from Thessalian songs. It is Minerva who has wealth--she alone lends money to the other gods. In a third[221] he complains that in writing poetry he may give pleasure to his readers, but he does so at a serious sacrifice to himself, for if he chose, in place of giving his time to verses, to serve as an advocate, to sell his influence to anxious defendants, his clients “would become his purse.” As it is, however, he must console himself with the thought that his readers are benefited although the poet works practically without recompense.

Later, the poet likens his literary work to a die or a cast from a dice-box, the result of the labor being at best an uncertainty.[222]

It was through patronage that literature became remunerative, and fortunately for the authors the patronage of literature became, under Octavius, fashionable. I have already referred to the familiar name of Mæcenas, whose influence in interesting his fellow-patricians and the young Emperor in the literary productions of the capital was most important. The fashion of patronage thus initiated continued to a greater or less extent until the days of Hadrian. As Simcox expresses it, the poets got into the habit of expecting to be treated “as semi-sacred pensioners, as they have been at the courts of the princes of the heroic age of Greece and Scandinavia--as they are still at the courts of certain princes in India who trace their descent up to the heroic age.”[223] In the age of Anne, English poets passed through a somewhat similar experience, and during the reigns of the first two Georges, they were not infrequently haunted by the same expectations. The bitter line, as paraphrased by Johnson, after his experience with Lord Chesterfield, commemorating the evil of the poet’s lot, has become proverbial

“Age, envy, want, the patron and the jail.”

In Rome when, in the decline of the literary interests of the Court, the hopes of patronage were finally abandoned, the profession of poetry seems for a time to have been practically given up.

Juvenal takes as the subject of his seventh satire the poverty of men of letters. He complains that the Emperor is their sole stay, and that authors can make no money and have as a dependence only the unprofitable patronage of the great. The poets who recite their verses, the historians, the lawyers, the rhetoricians who act as instructors for the young, are made to pass in turn before him, and of each the condition arouses the compassion of his irritable muse. In this satire we find references to the practice among poets of giving public readings of their productions. “Macalonus will lend you his palace and will provide some freedmen and some obliging friends to applaud. But among all these, you will find no one who will furnish you with means to pay either for seats in the parquet or orchestra, or even for places in the gallery.”[224]

Or again, it is Statius who gives a reading of his Thebaïd.

“All the city comes to hear the reading. The audience is
enthusiastic and applauds vociferously. But Statius would have died
of hunger if he had not been able to sell to the actor Paris his
tragedy of _Agave_. Paris distributes military honors and puts on
the fingers of poets the ring of knighthood. What the nobles do not
give, an actor may bestow.”[225]

The author of the dialogue on the decadence of oratory (attributed to Tacitus) makes mention also of these public lectures or readings, and of what they cost to a certain Bassus, for hiring a hall, for programmes, and for outlays in getting an audience together.

_Rogare ultro et ambire cogitur ut sint qui dignentur audire; et ne id quidem gratis. Nam et domum mutuatur, et auditorium exstruit, et subsellia conducit, et libellos dispergit._[226]

Apart from the use of authorship as a profession, it was of course pursued by many as an agreeable means of beguiling leisure, the results being harmless for posterity if not entirely so for the neighbors of the writer. In this respect, Rome, in the third century, was not very different from London or New York in the nineteenth. The _dilettante_ tragedian frequently restricted his literary ambition to securing a hearing for his productions before an audience, whether public or private, and did not venture to plan for his works any wider publication.

There are not a few references to banquets at which the guests paid for their dinners by listening, with due appreciation, to the latest tragedy of their host.

In some instances at least the guests must have found occasion really to value their literary as well as their gastronomic entertainment, as not a few works which had been left by their authors uncopied and uncared for, have been preserved for posterity only through the care of admiring friends.

Donatus says that Virgil had planned before his death to burn his _Æneid_, unwilling that it should be published without further revision, and that the work was only saved by the commands of Augustus.[227] Other writers, either by reason of dread of critical opinion or from an extreme standard of thoroughness, kept their manuscripts in their desks for a number of years after completing them. As Catullus says, after publication there can be no thought of further emendation. He speaks of one of Cinna’s volumes as given to the world after the ninth winter (_edita nonam post hiemem_).[228]

This term of nine years happens to coincide with the advice of Horace, that a literary work should be held back for nine years--_nonum prematur in annum_,--for the word once published can never be recalled.[229]

Pliny permitted his friend Saturninus to help him with the revision of his _Schedulæ_, but is not even then assured that he will be satisfied to permit them to come before the public: _Erit enim et post emendationem liberum nobis vel publicare vel continere_--“and after the revision of the books it still rested with us to decide whether to publish them or to hold them back.”[230]

Fronto, who was tutor to Marcus Aurelius, had written a pamphlet against a certain Asclepiodotus, and had arranged with a publisher for the issue of an edition. Hearing later that Verus (the adopted son of Antoninus Pius) was friendly to Asclepiodotus, he hastened to the publisher’s office to cancel the publication, but finds, to his regret, that he is too late, a number of copies having already gone out to the public, _curavi quidem abolere orationem, sed jam pervaserat in manus plurimum quam ut aboleri posset_.[231]

According to Birt,[232] the oldest book-shop--that is, retail book-shop--known to have existed in Rome was that in which Clodius hid himself (58 A.D.). Later, we find the stalls of the bibliopoles placed in the most frequented quarters of the city, by the Janus Gate of the Forum, by the Temple of Peace, on the _Argiletum_, in the _Vicus Sandalarius_, and on the _Sigillaria_. Martial speaks in fact of the street Argiletum as being chiefly occupied by booksellers, with whom, curiously enough, he tells us, were associated the fashionable tailors.[233] It would be pleasing to think that there was ever a time or a city in which the buying of books was as much of a fashionable diversion as the buying of clothes.

Both Horace and Martial speak of the book-shops as having become places of resort where the more active-minded citizens got into the habit of meeting to look over the literary novelties and to discuss the latest gossip, literary or social. On the door-posts or on columns near the entrance were placed the advertisements of recent publications and the announcements of works in preparation. Martial gives us the description as follows:

_Contra Cæsaris est forum taberna
Scriptis postibus hinc et inde totis,
Omnes ut cito perlegas poetas._
····
_De primo dabit alterove nido
Rasum pumice purpuraque cultum
Denariis tibi quinque Martialem._[234]

Birt finds evidences that before the close of the first century, the book trade in Rome and through many portions of the Empire had developed into large proportions. Each week the packets from Alexandria brought into Rome great cargoes of papyrus from the paper-makers of Alexandria. These papyrus rolls, first stored in the warehouses, speedily find their way to the workrooms of the publishers, where hundreds of skilled slaves follow with swift pens the rapid dictation of the readers, who relieve each other from time to time. Others occupy themselves with the work of comparison and revision, while a third group, the _glutinatores_, cover the completed manuscripts with appropriate bindings. In the book-shop, _taberna_, are attractively presented for the attention of the scholars, the _dilettanti_, the real collectors, and their fashionable imitators, the collections of the accepted classics and of the latest literary novelties. Here a cheap edition of the _Æneid_ is sold for school use for a few pennies; there great sums are expended for a veritable “original” text of some work by Demosthenes, Thucydides, Cato, or Lucilius[235]; while a third buyer is placing a wholesale order for a “proper assortment” of literature to serve as an adornment for a new villa.

From the Roman bibliopoles large shipments of books are also regularly made to other cities, such as Brundisium, _fasces librorum venalium expositos vidimus in Brundisio_,[236] or Lugdunum[237] (Lyons), or Vienna (in Gaul).[238]

It seems also to have been the practice (which has not been abandoned in modern times) to ship off to the provinces the over supplies or “remainders” of editions of books which had in the capital gone out of fashion. _Aut fugies Uticam aut vinctus mitteris Ilerdam._[239]

Notwithstanding this extreme activity of the business of making and selling books, Birt is inclined to conclude that the lot of the poor student must have been a difficult one.

Such libraries as existed in Rome and Italy had not been instituted with reference to the work of students, as had been done with the collections in Alexandria, and the Roman State appears in fact to have given very little attention to the requirements of higher education.

An author, named Diogenian, writing in the time of Hadrian, undertook to supply the needs of the impecunious student of philology, the πένης πεπαιδευμένος of Lucian, with his book entitled περιεργοπένητες, which was so comprehensive in its information as to enable its fortunate owner to “do without any other work on its subject.”[240]

Birt concludes from certain references that the leading publishers in Rome had during the beginning of the second century organized themselves into an association for the better protection of their interests in literary property, and that each member of such association bound himself not to interfere with the undertakings of his fellow-members. As Roman literature increased in commercial importance, some such arrangement or undertaking was, of course, indispensable, as in connection with the cheapening rates for the labor of slave copyists, indiscriminate competition could only have resulted in anarchy in the book-world, and have retarded indefinitely the development of literature as a profession. Birt evidently had in mind the existence of some such Publishers’ Commission as was instituted by the book-trade of Leipsic in the 17th century, but it is not likely that the Roman association succeeded in securing any such definite and effective organization.

It is on record, however, that the publisher Tryphon claimed to possess a legal control over the writings of Quintilian, while there is, unfortunately, nothing to show by what means he was enabled to retain such control.[241] Tryphon took credit to himself for having persuaded the reluctant Quintilian to permit the publication of certain works which would otherwise have been lost to posterity.[242] Quintilian refers to Tryphon as a trusted friend, on whose judgment he relied.[243] Tryphon was also one of the numerous publishers of Martial.[244]

The name of the _librarius_ Dorus, mentioned by Seneca as a contemporary of his own, is worthy of note because he was one of the earliest buyers of publishing rights or copyrights. Seneca understands, namely, that Dorus had purchased from the heirs of Atticus and from those of Cicero the publishing rights and the “remainders” of the editions of Cicero’s works.[245]

An ownership was claimed by the State in the Sibylline books, but this was of course never exercised in the form of a publishing right. It is related, however, that the duumvir Attilius suffered the punishment of death, adjudged to a parricide, because, being charged with the custody of the Sibylline books, he suffered Petronius Sabinus to copy some portions of the same. This might be called an infringement of a copyright vested in the State, but in the regard of the Roman law the deed was evidently considered simply as a sacrilege.[246]

Suetonius relates, in his _Life of Domitian_, an instance in which the Emperor administered, on the ground of certain objectionable passages in a work of history, a penalty so severe that it is difficult to accept the report as accurate. He says: _Hermogenem Tarsensem occidit propter quasdam in historia figuras; librariis etiam qui eam descripserant cruce fixis._ “He killed Hermogenes of Tarsus on account of certain expressions in his history; even the booksellers who had circulated the work were crucified.”[247]

If the account is correct, we have in this instance a very early application of the present usage in regard to the circulation of so-called “libellous” matter. The bookseller of to-day no longer dreads capital punishment at the hands of an irate monarch, but it is perfectly possible for him to be forced into bankruptcy through the penalties collected on account of the circulation (however unwittingly) of volumes containing statements called by the law “libellous.”

The principal customers of the booksellers were the schoolmasters and the so-called “grammarians.” To these should be added, from the beginning of the first century, an increasing number of libraries. The first public library in Rome is said to have been founded as early as 167 B.C., but it was not until the reign of Augustus that the Roman libraries became important and that in the other cities also libraries were instituted.

There was a library attached to the temple of Apollo on the Palatine hill in Rome, which Simcox refers to as an humble imitation of the Museum of Alexandria, but I do not know the date of its founding. It is noted of Tibullus, who was usually indifferent to fame, that he consented to send to this library a copy of his collected writings, and there are other references from which it appeared that, either from public spirit or from a desire for public appreciation, authors made a practice of presenting copies of their books to this Palatine library, and that in this way a considerable collection was brought together, of which the public had the benefit; but it is certain that there was no municipal or imperial enactment prescribing such presentation copies, and it does not appear that any of the emperors took any such active interest in furthering the development of literature and of the literary education of the public as had been shown by the Ptolemies of Alexandria.

In Rome there were, according to Birt, twenty-nine public libraries founded between the reign of Augustus and that of Hadrian, while there are various references to the public libraries of the smaller cities. Aulus Gellius[248] speaks of the library in Tibur (the modern Tivoli) _in Herculis Templo satis commode instructa libris_. Comum (the modern Como) possessed a library given to it by Pliny.[249] The Roman Athens had a public library connected with the College of the Ptolemies, and the Emperor Hadrian founded a second.[250] Strabo speaks with appreciation of the library of Smyrna.[251]

It appears probable that, at least for the first three or four centuries after Christ, the larger proportion of the books contained in the public libraries (as in the private collections) were in Greek. Cicero speaks more than once of the fact that the Greek books were comparatively plenty, while those in Latin were scarce.[252] Juvenal’s character, the impecunious Cordus, “possessed but few books, and those in Greek.”[253] Suetonius, in speaking of the restoration by Domitian of the public libraries which had been burned by Nero, states that the Emperor collected from all sources trustworthy texts and forwarded them to Alexandria for use in the production of the many copies required.[254] It is evident, in the first place, that at this time (about 90 A.D.) the supply of skilled copyists in Rome was still inadequate for any such extended undertakings, and secondly, that there was question merely of works in Greek, for Latin texts would hardly have been sent to Alexandria.

Even without the aid of scholarly government supervision and of liberal government appropriations, the public libraries of Rome and of the leading cities of the provinces must have been of no little importance in furthering the literary interests of the time, while they rendered to posterity the important service of preserving not a few works which would otherwise apparently have perished entirely. For this latter service we are indebted, however, not only to the libraries but to the vanity of the authors, who for the most part took pains to place in one or more of the public libraries copies of their writings as soon as published. Of certain works of which the originals have disappeared, such knowledge as we have comes to us only in the fragments given in the school readers, which for each generation of young students were made up of extracts from the books of the previous generation of writers.

Some of these “classical” readers of the period of the early Empire were copied for use in the monastic schools of some centuries later, but these were in large part speedily superseded by the collections of legends and breviaries which came to be accepted as the proper literature for the monastery and the convent.

In addition to the “grammarians” buying books for their professional needs, and the city libraries purchasing for the public welfare, there were, during the first two centuries, an increasing number of private collectors, not a few of whom, however, bought books, not from any scholarly interest, but simply because it became the fashion to do so. Seneca speaks of great collections of books in the hands of men who had never so much as read their titles.[255] Such purchases must nevertheless have been important for the encouragement of literary work in Rome. Many of the public baths were furnished with libraries[255]; a country house could not be complete without a library, says Cicero[256]; each one of the villas of Italicus, according to Pliny, had its library[257]; Trimalchio, says Petronius,[258] possessed no less than three. A statue of Hermes, found in Rome, bears an epigram which speaks of βύβλοι in the grove of the Muses, and which undoubtedly had been intended to be placed in the library of some country villa.[259]

Among some of the larger private collections referred to are those of the grammarian Epaphroditus, who possessed 30,000 volumes,[260] and of Serenus Sammoaicus, who is credited with over 60,000 volumes.[261]

The impecunious Martial, on the other hand, tells us that his own collection comprised less than 120 rolls.[262]

We have already referred to the practical interest taken by Martial in the details of bookselling. We find him quoting the authority of the booksellers against certain critics, who were not willing to rank Lucian as a poet of repute, and showing that after thirty years or more there was still a steady demand for Lucian’s poetical works.

Martial takes the ground that continued popular appreciation is sufficient evidence of literary repute, whatever the critics may say to the contrary.[263]