Greek Historiography
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Speeches probably began in emulation of Homer and were intended to
add clarity and interest to the narrated events. Oddly enough, speeches seem rare in pre‐Herodotean logographers but come into full life in
Herodotus, in direct address, in dialogue (e.g., Solon and Croesus in
Book 1), and even in pairs or even triads of set speeches (e.g., the debate on the Persian constitution in Book 3). Thucydides’ speeches are generally longer and not infrequently in pairs, to allow a two‐sided analysis of the debate (or four‐sided in the case of the conference at Sparta in Book 1). Xenophon’s speeches often characterize leaders, but they also
add sophistication to structure and content. Xenophon himself is seen as a man of Socratic wisdom in last two speeches of the Anabasis, at 7.6.11–
38 and 7.7.20–47. In the speech of Callistratus in Book 6 of the Hellenica,
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Xenophon even uses a speech to suggest a solution for the problem of
Hellenic unity, notably for Athens and Sparta. On occasion, Xenophon’s
speeches resonate with those of Thucydides (cf. X. Hell. 3.5.8–15 with Th. 3.53–68). After Hellenica 3 he tends to use speeches more dramatically, and in Hellenica 6 he frames the battle of Leuctra with two sets of three speeches. The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia shows no speeches in its extant portions. Timaeus was criticized by Polybius for not using speeches to
synthesize main issues. With Polybius himself and his thirty‐seven extant speeches we see a return, in the second century, to the Herodotean and
Thucydidean roots of effective use of oratory. Noteworthy are the
speeches of Flamininus and Philip V at Locris in 198 bc (Plb. 18.1–10), and the dramatic set speeches of Hannibal and Scipio before the battle at Zama (Plb. 15.6–8). In the late Roman republic rhetoric seems again
firmly entrenched in history. Diodorus uses speeches effectively to highlight the motivation of states, interestingly not always in harmony with Thucydides on the fifth century. In the imperial era Arrian, Dio Cassius, and Josephus use speeches competently, to review issues and positions
and explain motivation, sometimes with high drama (e.g. Josephus’
speeches of those at Masada, Jewish War Book 7; Dio’s speeches of Agrippa and Maecenas with advice to Augustus, Roman History Book 52). Appian used speeches more sparingly, but effectively – especially in events following the assassination of Julius Caesar. Finally Herodian is generous in his use of speeches, thirty‐three in all, balanced with pithy dialogue so as to move the action. There is no strictly traceable “evolution” in the use of speeches, except for the fact that almost every extant author since Herodotus uses them but does so with full flexibility of
forms, sizes, and shape, each of these features being determined by the demands of the narrative theme and context.
Power, Metaforces, Historical Philosophies,
and Continuities
Turning now from formal aspects to an overview of themes, we will look
of course at power and human nature, but also at the related questions
implicit in the following topics: causation, divine justice, leadership, civilization and the non‐Greeks, and, briefly, legacy. First, on the topic of power, the modern, religious, and widely validated golden rule advocates the primacy of loving one’s neighbor as much as oneself. Altruism
displayed to people other than one’s fellow citizens is not a principle highly espoused by most ancient Greeks. Yes, force for its own sake is not
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effective or necessary, but it can – and must – be used at times. The
ancient Greeks valued honor rather than love, as the former contributed to the identity of the state, the family, and the individual citizen.
Each author and each era put its stamp on the discussion regarding the
acquisition and maintenance of rule, the proper attitude of the subjects to empire, and how rule is lost. Divine fate came in and out of the central picture for each, as did the critical views of human nature and the appraisals of good and bad leadership. Herodotus focuses on the rise of Persia and the clash with the collective power of the Greeks, and in this he describes the “barbarian” confusion – of quantity of wealth, armies, and navies –
and the preferable Greek quality of excellence exemplified in the major battles. For Thucydides, one crucial factor is “raw” human nature, which resembles the animal principle of killing or being killed to survive (survival of the fittest); unchecked human nature is self‐centered and brutal. The view that power is fundamental to survival and to the acquisition of power is established in Book 1, chapters 1–20 – the “archaeology” – then carried into the speeches of Pericles (e.g. Th. 2.41) and continued in the stated
“laws” of imperial leadership of the strongest (Th. 1.76 and 5.105).
Xenophon’s Anabasis describes an expedition whose failed first aim was to reestablish royal power for Cyrus. The narrative recounts a time when the imperial rule of a single superpower among Greeks is no longer possible, and the lessons from the fate of the former Athens are invoked only as a warning not to take on hybristic schemes (X. An. 7.1.27), an incentive to spur new Athenian power (X. Hell. 1.4.20), or a rhetorical caution against possible Athenian ambitions (X. Hell. 4.8.20). The ever‐shifting politics of the fourth century and of the Hellenistic era saw historians describe the series of states in a succession of hegemonies that included the rise of Philip and Alexander (see, e.g., Theopompus and Aristobulus) and of the Sicilian tyrants admired by Philistius of Syracuse. But it is the rise of Rome that dictates the ultimate autopsy of power undertaken by
the chroniclers of the republic and empire. Polybius presents a balanced portrait of the rising power, alternately taking on the view of the imperialist Romans and the subject people around the Mediterranean. The
external threat of Carthage overrides internal Roman divisions, as had
ultimately happened in the case of Greeks against Persians. Yet most
interesting is Polybius’ nuanced presentation of the question of how non-Romans can best respond to the new juggernaut, namely by working on
friendly terms or by “pushing back,” but in a carefully moderated way:
these two paths are epitomized in a focal debate between the Greeks
Philopoemen and Aristaeus (Plb. 24.11–13). During the late republic
Diodorus Siculus talks of the Roman colonization of others in brutal
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terms – how, once they “held power over nearly the whole inhabited
world, they confirmed their rule by fear” (D.S. 34.4.5) – with analogies to imperialist Athens and he argues that a fair treatment of subjects is the way to retain power. The Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halicarnassus does eulogize Rome for its enduring and memorable empire ( he ̄ gemonia); Rome, “in its displaying greatest power [ arche ̄] and its most splendid deeds in peace and war,” is greater than Persia and Macedonia and far
more impressive than Athens or Sparta at their peak (D.H. 1.2). Josephus mixes traditional views of the rise and fall of powerful states with a new theocentrism; to defy Rome is to ignore the realities of others whom it has conquered, and even to be out of step with a divine plan to give
power to the supreme people of the day (J. BJ 2.357–87 and 5.365–7).
Appian’s Civil War is attuned more to the internal power struggle among Romans and sees Caesar as another Alexander with “fortune and power”
on his side (App. BC 2.149–54); in this critique he views the republic as a chaotic failure and the empire as a reasonable solution, but not one
entirely without its risks. Arrian’s narrative on Alexander may contain an implicit warning for Romans not to follow the Macedonian in his decline into imperialist hybris. Dio is a
rguably more keenly interested than any predecessor in the motives and means of building power in the empire: as a crude measure, Dio uses the term “power” ( dunamis) 283 times in his extant books, while the same term occurs 130 times in Thucydides’ text
(which is half the size of the extant Dio), 71 times in Xenophon’s Anabasis and Hellenica (which are about two thirds of Thucydides in length), and 51 times in Herodotus (which is longer than Thucydides by a quarter).
Dio reflects Thucydidean pessimism about human nature, but with a
positive view of the stabilizing effect of the emperor in principle and with severe criticism of individual emperors. In any case, all historians share an interest in the concept of power or rule, however termed – arche ̄, he ̄ gemonia, and so on (Wickersham 1994). Alongside the power of the ruler are represented incidences of freedom and submission or acceptance of the hierarchy as inevitable or benign. Across the seven hundred years of power discourse, it is remarkable how little the initial vocabulary and paths of power laid down by Herodotus and Thucydides changed.
Human Nature
Thucydides takes an unusual, nonreligious approach to the problem of
metahuman forces and sees the forces at work as essentially human
instead. He is followed most closely, though with significant variations,
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by Polybius, Dio, and Herodian (and, among Latin‐speaking Romans, by
Sallust and Tacitus). His solutions therefore require that humans somehow subscribe to a social contract that allows for civil interaction and, when possible, for justice; but they also acknowledge the reality of the greater force of those who, for a given time, have it. For many historians, human nature did have fundamental checks against being brutally self‐centered.
The restraints were seen as a metahuman, more than physical force that
controlled or decided which values prevail and against which values they are judged. Herodotus depicts human folly as overreach and blindness to divinely ordained limits; wisdom as restraint; and moderation and courage as high virtues. Thucydides may have followed Antiphon in depicting
human nature as a force encompassing emotion or impulse on the one
hand and evaluations or judgment on the other. Passages like Diodotus’
speech in the Mytilenean debate in Thucydides (Book 3) graphically
describe how leaders have to account for reason and emotion in their
strategies with other states. Corcyrean stasis shows that human reason is eroded in times of war, not allowing the better value of peacetime (Th.
3.82). For Xenophon, however, leadership – how best to guide the
collective state or the army – is the aspect of human nature that requires the greatest concern. Polybius shows as much interest in national character and group dynamics as in individual nature (Romans, Greeks, Gauls,
Carthaginians). His character sketch of Hannibal reveals that man’s emotional and intellectual core, informing our reading of the author’s views on human nature and power, which, at least here, are conditioned by
motives of revenge (Plb. 9.22–6). Also of interest are Polybius’ views on human “dispositions” ( diatheseis), which describe more or less fixed abilities of individuals (e.g., Aratus at Plb. 4.8.7–8) – as opposed to “states of character” ( hexeis), which involve choice. Among historians of the Roman empire, few delineate a close analysis of human nature as some
predecessors had, though they all continue to portray human fears, hopes, and desires in action and speech as part of the historical drama. Josephus puts in Titus’ mouth a speech recalling the law of human nature
concerning the rule of the strongest, which has resonance with Herodotus, Thucydides and others (J. BJ 5.365–7). Arrian quotes the gurus of India to warn Alexander about his fate, ultimately mortal despite his superhuman conquests (Arr. An. 7.1). The Roman‐era writer closest to Thucydides is Dio in his pessimistic analysis of a human nature rooted in acquisitiveness, aggression, and fear, employing fifteen different phrases for “human nature” (Reinhold 1988: 216). Again, the human yearning
to rule others is invoked as one rule, but so is clemency, seen as a human attribute (D.C. 58.12; 55.16 and 21).
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Supernatural Forces
So human choices and folly were both grounded in the realities of human nature, but were, in most historians, also subject to some form of
superhuman control. Control here is exercised as an indirect retribution, coming from the gods or fate, for the hybristic overstepping of one’s
bounds. The narratives highlighting hubris and reversal of fortune may derive from a Delphic tradition, but they are clearly outlined in Herodotus: for example Croesus is fated to destroy and empire ( arche ̄, Hdt. 1.53, 79). In general Herodotus equates power with wealth and splendor
among the barbarians (Croesus, Xerxes), but with “excellence” ( arete ̄) among the Greeks. Herodotus’ Xerxes shows hubris by flaunting the limits of nature in seeing a kingdom to the heavens, but also classically by making land into sea through the canal at Mount Athos and sea into land through the bridge over the Hellespont. The Persian Mardonius repeats
the transgression of divine space by crossing the Asopus River before the battle of Plataea. Supernatural forces are factors in Thucydides only
insofar as humans observe them superstitiously, but Xenophon is famously pious in his sympathetic portrait of people observing omen, consulting
oracles, and performing sacrifices (e.g., X. An. 3.2). In the pious Xenophon, leadership is frequently guided by seers and sacrifices (X. An.
5.2.9 and 24), and oracles and portents predict sacrifice in battle – for example at Leuctra (X. Hell. 1.7.33). Divine providence plays a crucial role in the historians of Alexander, since it seems to have done so during his career (e.g., in the consultation of the oracle of Zeus at Ammon in Egypt). Later on in the second century ad, Arrian’s narrative also
underlines the role of divinity in Alexander’s fate, including the seers who predict his being led to the place where he would die (Arr. An. 7.16).
But divine control can also be or seem whimsical, a force that simply
tests humans and demonstrates that we must deal with whatever the
metahuman forces send us. Many historians posit or stipulate a divinity like Fortune (Tyche) or a principle of chance that administers retribution to a person who overreaches human boundaries. Metahuman causation
can be found, for example, in Herodotus’ stories of divine retribution, most saliently against Xerxes; in Xenophon’s constant awareness of divine guidance through oracles; in Polybius’ attention to the role of fortune in the rise of Rome; in Philostratus’, Diodorus’, and Arrian’s Stoic beliefs in a “divine providence”; and in Josephus’ and Appian’s beliefs that a divine plan allowed Rome to reach its imperial height. Fortune plays an
ambiguous and not a mechanical role in Polybius’s second‐century bc
account, both as a goddess embodying Zeus’ will and as a fickle force
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among mortals ( tuche ̄): particular chances must be assessed in strategies, but there seems to be an overall scheme for Fortune to support Rome’s
ascent. Almost two hundred years later, Josephus, during the empire,
highlighted a rather different divine will, one in line with his Jewish beliefs, and supported the cooperation of Jews with the Roman elite: it is, by God’s will, the Romans’ time to rule (J. BJ 5.412). A bit later, in the second century ad, and in a similar spirit, Appian shows the transition from republic to empire as a change foreshadowed by divine signs
( BC 4.132–4). Appian’s near contemporary Dio was, he tells us, led to write history by dreams and portents; the goddess Fortune guided him in his task and divine portents p
lay a crucial role in his story of Rome. The parade of views on divine or metahuman forces reveals no “schools” of
thought, but does illustrate that the materialist, nondivine cosmos of
Thucydides is a rare construction, not shared even by Dio, who otherwise reflects Thucydidean views. A divine will and fortune seem to be favored to explain forces beyond our control and forces with which, it was
believed, humans had to reckon either through sacrifice and oracles or
through resignation when things did not go in their favor.
Modern readers need not necessarily associate these cosmic forces with a sense of the gods as models of moral excellence, which they never were for the Greeks. “The god,” especially Zeus, is the overseer of justice as a balance in which insolence is punished and proper respect for “the sacred” is eventually rewarded. But this supervision need not control man’s inhumanity to man, which requires guidance from the laws and customs of men and of the state. Greek historians also serve as a kind of check on the valuation of human actions, informally adding to the unwritten laws that maintain
traditional values like virtue, restraint, prudence, reason, and courage.
Causation
Apart from the unpredictable cosmic forces, the historians all show keen concern for patterns of causation – how human conflict starts and
proceeds, how the links in the chain of events interrelate. Herodotus
seems to locate historical causation in the deeper human realities of
cultural differences and commonalities, emotional and rational motiva-
tions, and the natural arc of the growth and decline of great powers. His introductory tale of tensions between Europe and Asia is (even if he sus-pends belief) programmatic of his typical concern for issues of gender and culture behind conflict (Hdt. 1.1–5). In the climactic Books 7, 8, and 9
of Herodotus, there is a clear causal chain of events leading to Xerxes’