Laudator Temporis Acti

Ronald Syme (1903-1989), Historia Augusta Papers (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), p. 8:

'Forgery' is no doubt a convenient term. Yet it should now be asked how far it is useful or correct. The word exudes an odour of personal guilt and criminal handiwork; the intent is to defraud or at the least to deceive; and notions of legal penalty or redress may not be far distant.

Various questions therefore come up. First, who suffers injury from a 'literary forgery', and how can the damage be assessed? When the act is contemporary, no grave problem. Passing one day through the book market at Rome, Galen noticed that spurious tracts were on sale, bearing his name. In this instance, the purchaser would be victimised. Also Galen, but perhaps less so, for the fraud bore witness to his fame. It is another matter when deceased worthies are impersonated, let alone such as never existed.

As concerns names and labels it is a further step when an author, from diffidence or discretion, prefers that his work should circulate anonymous or carry a name not his own. There is a world of difference between faking for profit and using an innocent pseudonym. All in all, 'imposture' will often prove a more helpful designation than 'forgery'.

Next, not all forgeries were made for profit in money or for the benefit of a party, a cause, a nation. The attempt might be made to draw a distinction, to seclude fabrications and works of propaganda intended to serve religious or political ends (most Jewish forgeries belong to this type).

Finally, a large number of literary impostures in any age have been perpetrated without any serious purpose or hope of deceiving the reader. When for one reason or another an author has chosen to write under an invented name, the deceit may be mild, venial or temporary; he may not be loath to allow the truth to percolate. Most important, a deed of deception may actually be intended to be seen through sooner or later. The contriver of a hoax derives a double delectation from his ingenuity. He fools the reader — and then the reader comes to realize that he has been taken in.