by Oswyn Murray
The evidence of inscriptions on pottery shows that the alphabet was used as a natural medium for recording quite trivial occasional poetry by the late eighth century: there is nothing implausible in the view that epic poets were also recording their compositions in writing by then, and even using the new skill to help them in composition. Poetry continued to be an important vehicle for public expression in the seventh and sixth centuries, but it was influenced in various ways by literacy: these ways are all related to the function of writing in preserving accurately the work of particular poets. References in Homer show that other types of poetry, songs of celebration, wedding songs, victory songs and dirges, already existed alongside epic; but there seems to have been no guild of professional singers to ensure their survival. With writing, various types of poetry emerged to establish separate identities; the existence of the different traditions from now on encouraged continuous development; writing also allowed the recording of more complex rhythms, and could almost function as a musical notation. After Hesiod, the concept of the poet as an individual was paramount: poems were known to be by a certain author, and this in turn will have affected the subject matter and tone of poetry towards the expression of personal emotions. With few exceptions lyric poetry did not survive the end of the ancient world: the fragments that remain are preserved in quotation by classical authors or have been found in the papyri from Graeco-Roman Egypt; the last fifty years have increased our knowledge of lyric poetry enormously.
The earliest of the lyric poets, Archilochos (about 680–40), exemplifies many of these trends. The illegitimate son of an aristocrat on Paros, he went to Thasos when his father led a colony there, and spent most of his life as a soldier until he was killed in battle. His poetry, whose language is often Homeric but whose metres are both popular and epic, is concerned with his personal circumstances – warfare, life in a frontier community, drink, love and sex, and abuse of his enemies: his most recently discovered poem, the longest fragment yet known, about the seduction of his girl-friend’s younger sister, was published in 1974. True lyric poetry, solo songs for the lyre, is represented by Alkaios (born about 620) and Sappho (born about 610), both from Lesbos and both members of aristocratic families. Alkaios was involved in political struggles against popular leaders: his political attitudes, exile, travels and descriptions of military life are typical; Sappho offers an unusual view of female society.
More important for the social function of poetry are the didactic poets. Kallinos of Ephesus in the early seventh century and Mimnermos of Kolophon about 600 encouraged their fellow citizens in struggles against the nomadic Cimmerian invaders from south Russia and the advancing power of Lydia. Tyrtaios towards the end of the seventh century did the same for the Spartans fighting against their Messenian neighbours, and also praised the social ethic of the new mass armies of heavy armed troops and their ideal of government, eunomia (good order). His poetic influence on Solon of Athens was great. Solon was appointed chief magistrate of Athens in 594 to solve serious economic and social unrest; his early fragments attack the injustices of Athenian society in a way that shows the use of poetry as political weapon; later he defended his reforms against extremists on both sides in the same way. The poetry attributed to Theognis of Megara (about 540) describes the dissatisfaction of an aristocrat at the influx of new wealth and the breakdown of traditional values, and also portrays upper-class homosexuality. In contrast, Xenophanes left Colophon in Asia Minor as a young man because of the Persian conquest in 545, and spent the rest of his life in the western colonies; he wrote on philosophical and scientific problems, and also attacked the contemporary emphasis on athletics and military virtues.
All early Greek poetry has a social function and a place of performance which influence its content; the different generic forms in origin reflect these different purposes. The lyric and elegiac poets composed for performance to the lyre and the double flute in drinking parties: their subject matter reflects the interests and preoccupations of particular social groups, the warriors and the aristocrats in their symposia.
Choral lyric was usually performed at religious festivals or other great occasions by trained choirs of men or girls singing and dancing to instrumental accompaniment, often antiphonically. Alkman was a younger contemporary of Tyrtaios, and his hymns offer an interesting contrast to the impression of Sparta as a military society. Simonides of Ceos (about 556–468) was court poet of the Athenian tyrant Hipparchos, and later commemorated the dead and the victors of the Persian Wars. Finally the greatest of the choral lyric poets, Pindar, in the fifth century, wrote for the Greek aristocrats and rulers who competed at the international games.
Lyric poetry presents a complex and varied picture of the world of early Greece: though its purpose was never overtly historical (there is no tradition of historical epic or descriptive panegyric), the poet’s role was still central; and so satisfactory for public expression were the varied poetic forms that they may well have delayed the appearance of a prose literature. Men of course spoke in prose, but they composed in verse. Composition in prose is related to a new need, that of precise and critical analysis; and it is a product of the Ionian enlightenment. The effort to formulate a critical scientific theory of matter, which began in Miletus with Thales in the early sixth century, led to the first known Greek work in prose, Anaximandros’ book on nature of about 550. Anaximandros attempted to explain both the underlying structure of the physical world and its development down to the creation of man – it was the substitution of science for myth. He was also the first Greek geographer and astronomer: the work contained the earliest known maps of the earth and the heavens, which were accompanied by a ‘description of the earth’ and a discussion of the stars and their movements.
Philosophers continued the scientific interests of Anaximandros; but it is another Milesian who carried his interest in human geography further, and so initiated the analysis of human societies. Hekataios, a prominent statesman around 500, also published a map and wrote a ‘description of the earth’, of which many short fragments survive in later authors. His concern was not with scientific theory, but with accurate geographical description. He himself had travelled at least in Asia and Egypt, and the detailed information given in the fragments suggests an ethnographic description of the Mediterranean world based on personal observation and the reports of other travellers. A second work by Hekataios discussed the heroic myths and the genealogies of those families who claimed descent from gods or heroes – as did Hekataios himself in the sixteenth generation. It seems to have been not merely a retelling of the hero myths, but a critical attempt to rationalize them and, if not produce history from them, at least make them portray a relatively normal human world. The critical approach of his book is emphasized in the first sentence:
Hekataios the Milesian speaks thus: I write these things as they seem to me; for the stories of the Greeks are many and absurd in my opinion.
(F.G.H. 1 frag, 1)
Hekataios saw the importance of travel and personal observation for the understanding of the human world; he may also be responsible for removing the gods from history by his curious and misguided attempt to remove them from mythology. Other early writers of prose are more shadowy figures. There were men who compiled mythological books without Hekataios’ critical attitude. And since antiquity there has been controversy as to whether there were any true historians before Herodotus; the evidence is unreliable, and even if the four dim Ionians in question did write before Herodotus, they had no influence on him, for they compiled a type of local history very different from his broad conception.
For the ancient world Herodotus was ‘the father of history’, and that judgement must stand. But he had also the reputation of being a liar, and the generally unfavourable opinion of his reliability lasted until the sixteenth century, when the accounts of travellers and missionaries from such areas as South America, Turkey and the far east revealed that tall stories about other cultures were not necessarily false. S
ince the nineteenth century accurate knowledge of the main civilizations about which Herodotus wrote, Egypt, Assyria, Babylon and Persia, has accumulated; and in the present age, when the difficulties in studying primitive societies and the problems of writing about their past are better appreciated, we can begin to understand the real achievement of Herodotus.
He was born in 484, between the two Persian invasions, at Halicarnassus in southern Asia Minor; he lived through the establishment of Athenian imperial power and died some time after 430, during the first ten years of the great Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta. His family was literary and aristocratic; he was brought up in exile on Samos; he travelled extensively in the Greek world, as far as Sicily and south Italy, north Africa, the Black Sea and south Russia; he visited Sardis in Lydia, and Phoenicia; he travelled up the Nile as far as Elephantinē and down the Euphrates as far as Babylon, and probably also went to the Persian capital of Susa. Well known as a literary figure in fifth century Athens, he finally became a citizen of the Athenian colony of Thurii in south Italy (founded in 444/3), where he died.
The scope of Herodotus’ book is described in its first sentence:
This is the account of the investigation of Herodotus of Halicarnassus, undertaken so that the achievements of men should not be obliterated by time and the great and marvellous works performed by both Greeks and barbarians should not be without fame, both other things and the reasons why they fought one another.
(Herodotus 1. 1)
The Greek word historiē translated by ‘investigation’ is the word which has entered the European languages as ‘history’; Herodotus uses it elsewhere to describe his enquiries, and it is connected with the Greek root ‘to know’, usually in the sense of knowing by personal observation, for instance as the witness in a lawsuit. Herodotus’ work is a series of descriptions of the various peoples of the Mediterranean and the near east arranged around the theme of the wars between Greeks and Persians: within this basic structure the digressions, or separate ‘accounts’ or ‘stories’ (which Herodotus calls logoi), are geographical, ethnographic and historical, ranging over the known world as far as its mysterious fringes and the encircling ocean. The modern word ‘historian’ scarcely covers all these activities; contemporaries used a vaguer term when they called him a ‘logos-maker’ or ‘logos-writer’. Thucydides was thinking of Herodotus when he claimed that his own readers should trust his conclusions, rather than ‘what the poets have composed about events in exaggeration, or what logos-writers have collected together, which is rather aimed at pleasing the ear than at the truth’. And he makes the proud statement:
The lack of invention in this narrative may seem less pleasing to the ear, but it will be enough if it is useful to those who wish to grasp clearly the past and the future, which, given human nature, will see these or similar events happening sometime again. This work is designed as a possession for all time rather than a display piece for instant listening.
(Thucydides 1. 21–2)
In these criticisms, and particularly the last, Thucydides seems to agree with later evidence in seeing Herodotus as a professional lecturer, giving his ‘stories’ or logoi in public as ‘display pieces for instant listening’; the final collection of these ‘stories’ in the present structured narrative was almost certainly published by 425, when Herodotus’ account of the causes of the Persian War was parodied by the comic poet Aristophanes. Herodotus may well in fact have begun like other contemporary literary figures, by lecturing on his travels and researches, and have only later arranged these lectures around the theme of the Persian Wars; but it is possible that he may have had his general theme in mind from the start.
Two literary influences on Herodotus are obvious. He owed much to Hekataios, whom he had certainly read, and whom he attacked both in his account of Egypt and as a map maker (Herodotus 2.143, 4.31): the early parts of the work must often cover the same ground in greater depth. Herodotus is also rightly described by a later Greek critic as ‘most Homeric’; Homer lies behind the conception of the whole enterprise as a war between Greeks and barbarians, and its declared intent to preserve ‘the great deeds of men’ (one of the acknowledged functions of epic poetry); the complex construction and digressive technique of Herodotus is similar to that of Homer, as are many of the more imaginative elements in the work.
Very few of Herodotus’ sources of information were written: details of the provinces of the Persian empire and its tribute, and of the organization of the Persian invasion force, may ultimately come from official Persian documents; and there are passing references to poetry and literature. But in general Herodotus was excluded from knowledge of the extensive literary and documentary evidence of the near east by his ignorance of foreign languages. As he himself makes clear, his work was based primarily on two types of evidence – what he had seen and what he had heard; it is a systematic and serious attempt to record oral traditions about the past. His practice was in each place to seek out ‘the men with knowledge’, usually priests or officials, and record their account with the minimum of comment. Only occasionally will he give variant traditions, and these have usually in fact been gathered by chance from different places; when he does this, he seldom declares which version he believes to be correct.
It is obvious that such a method left Herodotus largely at the mercy of his informants, who might be frivolous, ill-informed or biased. From Thucydides onwards Herodotus has been attacked as unscientific; but modern oral historians in fact hold that each tradition should be recorded separately: the contamination of two or more traditions produces an account which it is impossible to check or interpret, and which is an artificial invention of the modern anthropologist, not a true oral tradition.
All oral tradition consists of a chain of testimonies; in general the effective range for resonably detailed knowledge of the past is about two hundred years: it is very noticeable that Herodotus’ information is both qualitatively and quantitatively better for the period from the mid seventh century onwards. The historical worth of oral tradition is also related, not so much to the number of steps in the chain of testimonies, as to the purpose behind the recording of the tradition, the milieu in which it was remembered, and the cultural influences which may have affected its literary structure. The past is remembered not so much for its own sake as for its relevance to the present interests of a particular group; and each group imposes its characteristic deformation on the oral tradition.
In mainland Greece much of Herodotus’ information came from the great aristocratic families in each city: aristocratic tradition is of course especially liable to political distortion. For instance the Spartan aristocratic account played down the reforms of the age of Tyrtaios, and later the importance of their greatest king, Kleomenes; the Corinthian aristocracy travestied the history of their tyranny; the Athenian aristocratic family of the Alkmeonidai protested overmuch their anti-Persian stance and claimed the credit for the overthrow of the tyranny, minimizing the role of other families and popular support; Macedonian royal sources claimed that they had been secretly pro-Greek during the Persian Wars. There are many other examples.
Another group of traditions is very different. Here the great religious shrine of Delphi is of central importance: the Delphic tradition is not usually political; it is rather popular and moralizing. Often the stories are clearly related to particular monuments or offerings at the shrine (which is how we can detect their origin); and they centre round particular benefactors like Croesus king of Lydia. The obvious presence of folk-tale motifs might suggest the professional story-teller; but the clearest tendency is to impart a moral dimension to the past. Events are preserved in a framework in which the hero moves from prosperity to over-confidence and a divinely sanctioned reversal of fortune. This is no aristocratic ethic; it belongs to the priests of a shrine closely identified with a cooperative ethic, who engraved over the doors of their temple the two mottoes, ‘Know yourself, and ‘Nothing too much’.
The tra
ditions of the eastern Greeks are far closer in form to the Delphic stories than to the aristocratic traditions of the mainland. For here too there is very little evidence of deformation due to particular political groups; yet even in quite recent history there are clear signs of recurrent patterns, folk motifs, and distortion for moral purposes. Thus the story of the tyranny of Polykrates of Samos as late as the second half of the sixth century could be transformed into a folk-tale, and the account of the Ionian revolt in the early fifth century contains many popular elements. At first sight this is surprising, for Herodotus was closer to events in the Greek east than on the mainland; he had for instance spent his youth on Samos only a generation after the death of Polykrates, and must have known many of those who fought in the great revolt; yet his east Greek history is in fact less reliable than his history of the mainland.
This curious characteristic of the east Greek tradition is related to the overall pattern of his work: it too is a moral story, of the pride of Persia, symbolized in the arrogance of Xerxes and humbled by the Greeks. Once more the gods punish those whose prosperity passes human limits; and the framework in which this happens is a framework designed to recall to the listener the steps by which the gods achieve their ends – the deeds of pride, the warnings disregarded, the dreams misinterpreted and false ones sent to deceive. This overall pattern has been imposed by Herodotus on his material, and its consonance with the pattern of east Greek stories suggests an interesting conclusion. Behind the preservation of the past in Ionia lies a moralizing tradition of story-telling found in mainland Greece only at Delphi, a tradition of which Herodotus is himself a representative: just as the Homeric poems are the culmination of the activity of generations of professional bards, so Herodotus the logos-writer has ‘collected together’ (to use Thucydides’ description) the results of an oral prose tradition, of folk stories told perhaps by professional or semi-professional ‘logos-makers’ in Delphi and the cities of Ionia. And he himself is the last and greatest of these logos-makers, weaving together the stories with all the skill of a traditional artist into a prose epic, whose form mirrors the form of its components. That this form is traditional and not of his own making is shown by its absence from the mainland Greek tradition: if he had been deliberately and consciously imposing a new pattern, he would surely have made this material conform to it; yet the comparative absence of moralizing folk-tale motifs in the stories of obvious mainland folk heroes like Kleomenes, Themistokles and others is remarkable.