CHAPTER III.

_ANCIENT FORMS OF ADVERTISING._ Though it would be quite impossible to give any exact idea as to the period when the identical first advertisement of any kind made its appearance, or what particular clime has the honour of introducing a system which now plays so important a part in all civilised countries, there need be no hesitation in ascribing the origin of advertising to the remotest possible times--to the earliest times when competition, caused by an increasing population, led each man to make efforts in that race for prominence which has in one way or other gone on ever since. As soon as the progress of events or the development of civilisation had cast communities together, each individual member naturally tried to do the best he could for himself, and as he, in the course of events, had naturally to encounter rivals in his way of life, it is not hard to understand that some means of preventing a particular light being hid under a bushel soon presented itself. That this means was an advertisement is almost certain; and so almost as long as there has been a world--or quite as long, using the term as it is best understood now--there have been advertisements. At this early stage of history, almost every trade and profession was still exercised by itinerants, who proclaimed their wares or their qualifications with more or less flowery encomiums, with, in fact, the advertisement verbal, which, under some circumstances, is still very useful. But the time came when the tradesman or professor settled down, and opened what, for argument’s sake, we will call a shop. Then another method of obtaining publicity became requisite, and the crier stepped forward to act as a medium between the provider and the consumer. This is, however, but another form of the same system, and, like its simpler congener, has still an existence, though not an ostentatious one. When the art of writing was invented, the means of extending the knowledge which had heretofore been simply cried, was greatly extended, and advertising gradually became an art to be cultivated. Very soon after the invention of writing in its rudest form, it was turned to account in the way of giving publicity to events in the way of advertisement; for rewards for and descriptions of runaway slaves, written on papyri more than three thousand years ago, have been exhumed from the ruins of Thebes. An early but mythical instance of a reward being offered in an advertisement is related by Pausanias,[7] who, speaking of the art of working metals, says that the people of Phineum, in Arcadia, pretended that Ulysses dedicated a statue of bronze to Neptune, in the hope that by that deity’s intervention he might recover the horses he had lost; and, he adds, “they showed me an inscription on the pedestal of the statue offering a reward to any person who should find and take care of the animals.” The Greeks used another mode of giving publicity which is worthy of remark here. They used to affix to the statues of the infernal deities, in the _temenos_ of their temples, curses inscribed on sheets of lead, by which they devoted to the vengeance of those gods the persons who had found or stolen certain things, or injured the advertisers in any other way. As the names of the offenders were given in full in these singular inscriptions, they had the effect of making the grievances known to mortals as well as immortals, and thus the advertisement was attained. The only difference between these and ordinary public notices was that the threat of punishment was held out instead of the offer of reward. A compromise was endeavoured generally at the same time, the evil invoked being deprecated in case of restitution of the property. A most interesting collection of such imprecations (_diræ defixiones_, or κατάδεσμοι) was found in 1858 in the _temenos_ of the infernal deities attached to the temple of Demeter at Cnidus. It is at present deposited in the British Museum, where the curious reader may inspect it in the second vase-room. A common mode of advertising, about the same time, was by means of the public crier, κήρυξ. In comparatively modern times our town-criers have been proverbial for murdering the king’s English, or, at all events, of robbing it of all elecutionary beauties. Not so among the Greeks, who were so nice in point of oratorical power, and so offended by a vicious pronunciation, that they would not suffer even the public crier to proclaim their laws unless he was accompanied by a musician, who, in case of an inexact tone, might be ready to give him the proper pitch and expression. But this would hardly be the case when the public crier was employed by private individuals. In Apuleius (“Golden Ass”) we are brought face to face with one of these characters, a cunning rogue, full of low humour, who appears to have combined the duties of crier and auctioneer. Thus, when the slave and the ass are led out for sale, the crier proclaims the price of each with a loud voice, joking at the same time to the best of his abilities, in order to keep the audience in good humour. This latter idea has not been lost sight of in more modern days. “The crier, bawling till his throat was almost split, cracked all sorts of ridiculous jokes upon me [the ass]. ‘What is the use,’ said he, ‘of offering for sale this old screw of a jackass, with his foundered hoofs, his ugly colour, his sluggishness in everything but vice, and a hide that is nothing but a ready-made sieve? Let us even make a present of him, if we can find any one who will not be loth to throw away hay on the brute.’ In this way the crier kept the bystanders in roars of laughter.”[8] The same story furnishes further particulars regarding the ancient mode of crying. When Psyche has absconded, Venus requests Mercury “to proclaim her in public, and announce a reward to him who shall find her.” She further enjoins the divine crier to “clearly describe the marks by which Psyche may be recognised, that no one may excuse himself on the plea of ignorance, if he incurs the crime of unlawfully concealing her.” So saying, she gives him a little book, in which is written Psyche’s name and sundry particulars. Mercury thereupon descends to the earth, and goes about among all nations, where he thus proclaims the loss of Psyche, and the reward for her return:--“If any one can seize her in her flight, and bring back a fugitive daughter of a king, a handmaid of Venus, by name Psyche, or discover where she has concealed herself, let such person repair to Mercury, the crier, behind the boundaries of Murtia,[9] and receive by way of reward for the discovery seven sweet kisses from Venus herself, and one exquisitely delicious touch of her charming tongue.” A somewhat similar reward is offered by Venus in the hue and cry she raises after her fugitive son in the first idyl of Moschus, a Syracusan poet who flourished about 250 years before the Christian era: “If any one has seen my son Eros straying in the cross roads, [know ye] he is a runaway. The informer shall have a reward. The kiss of Venus shall be your pay; and if you bring him, not the bare kiss only, but, stranger, you shall have something more.”[10] This something more is probably the “quidquid post oscula dulce” of Secundus, but is sufficiently vague to be anything else, and certainly promises much more than the “will be rewarded” of our own time. So far with the Greeks and their advertisements. Details grow more abundant when we enter upon the subject of advertising in Rome. The cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, buried in the midst of their sorrows and pleasures, their joys and cares, in the very midst of the turmoil of life and commerce, and discovered ages after exactly as they were on the morning of that ominous 24th of August A.D. 79, show us that the benefit to be derived from publicity was well understood in those luxurious and highly-cultivated cities. The walls in the most frequented parts are covered with notices of a different kind, painted in black or red. Their spelling is very indifferent, and the painters who busied themselves with this branch of the profession do not appear to have aimed at anything like artistic uniformity or high finish. Still these advertisements, hasty and transitory as they are, bear voluminous testimony as to the state of society, the wants and requirements, and the actual standard of public taste of the Romans in that age. As might be expected, advertisements of plays and gladiators are common. Of these the public were acquainted in the following forms,-- AEDILIS . FAMILIA . GLADIATORIA . PUGNABIT POMPEIS . PR . K . JUNIAS . VENATIO ET VELA ERUNT. or, N . FESTI AMPLIATI FAMILIA GLADIATORIA . PUGNA ITERUM PUGNA . XVI . K . JVN . VENAT . VELA.[11] Such inscriptions occur in various parts of Pompeii, sometimes written on smooth surfaces between pilasters (denominated _albua_), at other times painted on the walls. Places of great resort were selected for preference, and thus it is that numerous advertisements are found under the portico of the baths at Pompeii, where persons waited for admission, and where notices of shows, exhibitions, or sales would be sure to attract the attention of the weary lounger. Baths we find advertised in the following terms,-- THERMAE M . CRASSI FRUGII AQUA . MARINA . ET . BALN. AQUA . DULCI . JANUARIUS . L. which of course means “warm, sea, and fresh water baths.” As provincials add to their notices “as in London,” or “à la mode de Paris,” so Pompeians and others not unfrequently proclaimed that they followed the customs of Rome at their several establishments. Thus the keeper of a bathing-house near Bologna acquainted the public that-- IN . PRAEDIS C . LEGIANNI VERI BALNEUM . MORE . URBICO . LAVAT. OMNIA COMMODA . PRAESTANTUR. At his establishments there were baths according to the fashion of “the town,” besides “every convenience.” And a similar inscription occurred by the Via Nomentana, eight miles from Rome-- IN . PRAEDIS . AURE LIAE . FAUSTINIANAE BALINEUS . LAVAT . MO RE . URBICO . ET OMNIS. HUMANITAS . PRAESTA TUR. [Illustration: _WALL INSCRIPTIONS IN POMPEII.--Antigonus, the hero of 2112 victories. Superbus, a comparatively unknown man. Casuntius, the master of the latter, is supposed to be in the act of advising him to yield to the invincible retiarius. The other figure represents Aniketos Achilles, a great Samnite gladiator, who merited the title of invincible._] Those who had premises to let or sell affixed a short notice to the house itself, and more detailed bills were posted at the “advertising stations.” Thus in Plautus’s “Trinummus,” Act v., the indignant Callicles says to his spendthrift son, “You have dared to put up in my absence, and unknown to me, that this house is to be sold”--(“Ædes venales hasce inscribit literis”). Sometimes, also, the inscription, “Illico ædes venales” (“here is a house for sale”) appears to have been painted on the door, or on the _album_. An auctioneer would describe a house as “Villa bona beneque edificata” (a good and well-built house), and full details of the premises were given in the larger placards painted on walls. In the street of the Fullers in Pompeii occurs the following inscription, painted in red, over another which had been painted in black and whitewashed over,-- IN . PRAEDIS . JULIAE . S . P . F . FELICIS LOCANTUR BALNEUM . VENEREUM . ET . NONGENTUM . PERGULAE CENACULA . EX . IDIBUS . AUG . PRIORIS . IN . IDUS . AUG . SEXTAS . ANNOS . CONTINUOS . QUINQUE. S . Q . D . L . E . N . C. Which has been translated, “On the estate of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius Felix, are to let from the 1st to the 6th of the ides of August (_i.e._, between August 6th and 8th), on a lease of five years, a bath, a venereum, and nine hundred shops, bowers, and upper apartments.”[12] The seven final initials, antiquaries, who profess to read what to others is unreadable, explain, “They are not to let to any person exercising an infamous profession.” But as this seems a singular clause where there is a _venereum_ to be let, other erudites have seen in it, “Si quis dominam loci eius non cognoverit,” and fancy that they read underneath, “Adeat Suettum Verum,” in which case the whole should mean, “If anybody should not know the lady of the house, let him go to Suettus Verus.” The following is another example of the way in which Roman landlords advertised “desirable residences,” and “commodious business premises”-- INSULA ARRIANA POLLIANA . GN . ALIF I . NIGID I MAI LOCANTUR . EX . I . JULIS . PRIMIS . TABERNAE CUM . PERGULIS . SUIS . ET COENACULA EQUESTRIA . ET . DOMUS . CONDUCTOR CONVENITO . PRIMUM GN . ALIF I NIGID I . MAI SER. Said to mean, “In the Arrian Pollian block of houses, the property of Cn. Alifius Nigidius, senior, are to let from the first of the ides of July, shops with their bowers, and gentlemen’s apartments. The hirer must apply to the slave of Cn. Alifius Nigidius, senior.” [Illustration: _WALL INSCRIPTIONS IN POMPEII.--Apparently remarks and opinions expressed by inhabitants, with reference to their fancies and favourites, in the circuses and at other public exhibitions._] Both the Greeks and the Romans had on their houses a piece of the wall whitened to receive inscriptions relative to their affairs. The first called this λεύκωμα, the latter _album_. Many examples of them are found in Pompeii, generally in very inferior writing and spelling. Even the schoolmaster Valentinus, who on his album, as was the constant practice, invoked the patronage of some high personages, was very loose in his grammar, and the untoward outbreak of Vesuvius has perpetuated his blundering use of an accusative instead of an ablative: “Cum discentes suos.” All the Pompeian inscriptions mentioned above were painted, but a few instances also occur of notices being merely scratched on the wall. Thus we find in one place, “Damas audi,” and on a pier at the angle of the house of the tragic poet is an Etruscan inscription scratched in the wall with a nail, which has been translated by a learned Neapolitan, “You shall hear a poem of Numerius.” But these so-called Etruscan inscriptions are by no means so well understood as we could wish, and their interpretation is far from incontestable. There is another on a house of Pompeii, which has been Latinised into, “Ex hinc viatoriens ante turri xii inibi. Sarinus Publii cauponatur. Ut adires. Vale.” That is, “Traveller, going from here to the twelfth tower, there Sarinus keeps a tavern. This is to request you to enter. Farewell.” This inscription, however, is so obscure that another _savant_ has read in it a notification that a certain magistrate, Adirens Caius, had brought the waters of the Sarno to Pompeii--a most material difference certainly. We are made acquainted with other Roman bills and advertisements by the works of the poets and dramatists. Thus at Trimalchion’s banquet, in the “Satyricon,” Pliny mentions that a poet hired a house, built an oratory, hired forms, and dispersed prospectuses. They also read their works publicly,[13] an occupation in which they were much interrupted and annoyed by idlers and impertinent boys. Another mode of advertising new works more resembled that of our own country. The Roman booksellers used to placard their shops with the titles of the new books they had for sale. Such was the shop of Atrectus, described by Martial-- Contra Cæsaris est forum taberna Scriptis postibus hinc et inde totis Omnes ut cito perlegas poetas Illinc me pete. [7] Pausanias Græc., lib. viii. c. 14, Arcadia. [8] Apuleius, Golden Ass, Book viii., Episode 8. [9] The spot here mentioned was at the back of the Temple of Venus Myrtia (the myrtle Venus), on Mount Aventine in Rome. [10] Apuleius, Book vi. [11] That is, “The troop of gladiators of the ædil will fight on the 31st of May. There will be fights with wild animals, and an awning to keep off the sun.” Wind and weather permitting, there were awnings over the heads of the spectators; but, generally, there appears to have been too much wind in this breezy summer retreat to admit of this luxury. “Nam ventus populo vela negare solet,” says Martial, and the same idea occurs in three other places in this poet’s works (vi. 9; xi. 21; xiv. 29). Sometimes, also, the bills of gladiators promise _sparsiones_, which consisted in certain sprinklings of water perfumed with saffron or other odours; and, as they produced what was called a nimbus, or cloud, the perfumes were probably dispersed over the audience in drops by means of pipes or spouts, or, perhaps, by some kind of rude engine. [12] Nine hundred shops in a town which would hardly contain more than about twelve hundred is rather incredible--perhaps it should be ninety. _Pergulæ_ were either porticos shaded with verdure, lattices with creeping plants, or small rooms above the shops, bedrooms for the shopkeepers. _Cœnacula_ were rooms under the terraces. When they were good enough to let to the higher classes they were called _equestria_ (as in the following advertisement). Plutarch informs us that Sylla, in his younger days, lived in one of them, where he paid a rent of £8 a year. [13] A. L. Millin, Description d’un Mosaique antique du Musée Pio. Clementin, à Rome, 1819, p. 9.