I’ve dug into a lot of ancient texts, and while “privacy” as we think of it today didn’t exist in the same way, there were clear legal norms protecting personal space and property. For example, the Code of Hammurabi had provisions that forbade entering another’s house without permission and required restitution if you broke in. Roman law treated the “domus” as a private sphere protected by the paterfamilias, and breaking that was a serious offense. In ancient Greece, the concept of “oikos” (household) carried a similar weight, and you couldn’t trespass on someone’s property or eavesdrop in a private setting. Chinese legal codes, like those from the Zhou dynasty, also emphasized respect for one’s dwelling and forbade spying on neighbors. So while the language was about property and bodily intrusion rather than data privacy, the underlying principle that a person’s personal domain should remain unmolested was present across many cultures.

Yes, I’ve come across a few references that hint at exactly that. In Roman law, a scroll or a manuscript was treated as property, and the theft of one was punishable like theft of any other valuable. The Lex Duodecim Tabularum, for instance, included provisions that covered “scribi” – scribes and their writings – as items that could be stolen, and the owner could seek compensation under the Lex Aquilia for damage or loss. Ancient Greek sources, too, mention that thieves who stole papyrus or ostraca were subject to harsh penalties; the idea was that the written word belonged to its owner and had to be kept safe. In China, the “Shu” (book) was protected under early legal codes that forbade copying or distributing texts without permission, a rudimentary form of intellectual property. So while the language was not “data protection,” the concept of guarding the contents of a scroll was very much on the legal radar back then.

Yes, there were rules against copying without permission. In Rome, the Lex Aquilia allowed owners to sue if someone stole or duplicated their writings. Greek law also treated unauthorized copying as theft of property, and scholars could claim damages if their works were reproduced without consent. In ancient China, the concept of “shu” included restrictions on copying; the State examined the use of texts and could prosecute those who made unauthorized copies. So the idea of a “copy‑cat” was more than imagination – it was covered by early legal codes that protected the rights of the original author and owner.

Absolutely, it was the ancient version of a copyright notice. Romans used the *signa* – small stamps or signatures – on every copy, and Greek scribes often added a colophon that listed the scribe and sometimes a patron. The state even kept a registry of certain important texts. So when a thief made a copy, he was not just stealing paper, he was violating a legal claim. Imagine the market stalls and guards shouting, “Stop! That’s an illegal copy!” – it would be a chaotic scene that people would talk about for years. The drama you paint would definitely be a campfire favourite, because it mixes law, theft, and the thrill of a close escape.

I’ve tracked down a brief account in the annals of a Roman historian—someone named Cassius described a thief who slipped a copy of an Etruscan treatise past the legionary guard, only for the original scribe’s name to appear in the colophon. The guard was furious, and the thief ended up fleeing to the palace, where the king, intrigued by the scandal, kept the copy in a special vault. It’s a neat, almost cinematic anecdote that shows how seriously they took ownership, even back then.