Haydn says this species of auction, by inch of candle is derived from a practice, in the Roman Catholic Church. Where there is an excommunication, by inch of candle, and the sinner is allowed to come to repentance, while yet the candle burns. The sinner is supposed, of course, to be going—going—gone—unless he avails of the opportunity to bid, as it were, for his salvation. This naturally reminds the reader of the spiritual distich—
“For while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.”
Where the bids are, from a maximum, downward, the term—auction—is still commonly, though improperly employed, and in the very teeth of all etymology. When I was a boy, the poor, in many of our country towns, were disposed of, in this manner. The question was, who would take Daddy Osgood, one of the town’s poor, for the smallest weekly sum, to be paid by the town. The old man was started, at four shillings, and bid down to a minimum. There was yet a little work in his old bones; and I well remember one of these auctions, in 1798, in the town of Billerica, at which Dr. William Bowers bid off Daddy Osgood, for two and sixpence.
The Dutch have a method of selling fresh fish, which is somewhat analogous to this, and very simple and ingenious. An account of it may be found, in Dodsley’s Annual Register, for 1760, vol. iii. page 170. The salesman is called the Affslager. The fish are brought in, in the morning, and placed on the ground, near the fish stalls of the retailers. At ten, precisely, the Affslager rings his bell, which may be heard, for half a mile. Retailers, and individual consumers collect, and the Affslager—the auctioneer—puts up a lot, at a maximum price. No one offers a less sum, but the mynheers stand round, sucking at their pipes, and puffing away, and saying nothing. When the Affslager becomes satisfied, that nobody will buy the lot, at the price named, he gradually lowers it, until one of the mynheers takes his pipe from his mouth and cries “mine!” in High Dutch. He is, of course, the purchaser; and the Affslager proceeds to the sale of another lot.
It will be seen, from one of the citations from Pepys, that some of the auctions of his time were called the candles; precisely as the auctions, at Rome, were called hastæ; a spear or hasta, instead of a flag, being the customary signal for the sale. The proper word, however, was auctio, and the auctioneer was called auctor. Notice of the sale was given, by the crier, a præcone prædicari, Plaut. Men., v. 9, 94, or, by writing on tables. Such is the import of tabulum proscripsit, in Cicero’s letter to his brother Quintus, ii. 6.
In the year 1824, passing through the streets of Natchez, I saw a slave, walking along, and ringing a bell, as he went; the bell very much resembled our cowbells, in size and form. Upon a signal from a citizen, the slave stopped ringing, and walked over to him, and stood before him, till he had read the advertisement of a sale at auction, placarded on the breast of the slave, who then went forward, ringing his bell, as before. The Romans made their bids, by lifting the finger; and the auctioneer added as many sesterces, as he thought amounted to a reasonable bid.
Cicero uses this expression in his fine oration against Verres, i 54—digitum tollit Junius patruus—Junius, his paternal uncle, raised his finger, that is, he made a bid.
The employment of a spear, as the signal of an auction sale, is supposed to have arisen from the fact, that the only articles, originally sold, in this manner, were the spoils of war. Subsequently, the spear—hasta—came to be universally used, to signify a sale at auction. The auction of Pompey’s goods, by Cæsar, is repeatedly alluded to, by Cicero, with great severity, as the hasta Cæsaris. A passage may be found, in his treatise, De Officiis, ii. 8, and another, in his eighth Philippic, sec. 3—“Invitus dico, sed dicendum est. Hasta Cæsaris, Patres Conscripti, multis improbis spem affert, et audaciam. Viderunt enim, ex mendicis fieri repente divites: itaque hastam semper videre cupiunt ii, qui nostris bonis imminent; quibus omnia pollicetur Antonius.” I say it reluctantly, but it must be said—Cæsar’s auction, Conscript Fathers, inflames the hopes and the insolence of many bad men. For they see how immediately, the merest beggars are converted into men of wealth. Therefore it is that those, who are hankering after our goods and chattels, and to whom Antony has promised all things, are ever longing to behold such another auction, as that.
The auctioneer’s bell, in use, at the Hague, in 1760, was introduced into Boston, seventy-seven years ago, by Mr. Bicker, whose auction-room was near the Market. Having given some offence to the public, he inserted the following notice, in the Boston Gazette and Country Journal, Monday, April 18, 1774—“As the method, lately practised by the Subscriber, in having a Person at his Door, to invite Gentlemen and others to his public Sales—has given Dissatisfaction to some (Gentlemen Shopkeepers in particular) to avoid giving Offence for the future, he shall desist from that Practice, and pursue one (as follows) which he flatters himself cannot fail giving universal Satisfaction, as he sincerely wishes so to do. The Public are most earnestly requested to remember (for their own advantage) that, for the future, Notice will be given, by sounding a Bell, which he has purchased for that Purpose, which is erected over the Auction Room Door, near the Market, Boston, where constant Attendance is given both early and late, to receive the favors of all such who are pleased to confer on their Much obliged, Most Obedient, and very humble Servant, M. Bicker.”
Albeit there is no less bickering or dickering here now, than of yore, yet Bicker and his bell have gone, long ago, to the “receptacle of things lost upon earth.” The very name is no more.