Lessons from the Past: The Moral Use of History in Fourth-Century Prose

Lessons from the Past




Lessons from the Past
The Moral Use of History in Fourth-Century Prose

Frances Pownall

the university of michigan press Ann Arbor

Copyright 䉷 by the University of Michigan 2004 All rights reserved Published in the United States of America by The University of Michigan Press Manufactured in the United States of America 嘷 ⬁ Printed on acid-free paper 2007 2006 2005 2004

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pownall, Frances, 1963– Lessons from the past : the moral use of history in fourth-century prose / Frances Pownall. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-472-11327-5 (alk. paper) 1. Greece—History—To 146 B.C.—Historiography. 2. Historiography—Moral and ethical aspects—Greece—History—To 1500. 3. Exempla—History and criticism. 4. Greece—Intellectual life—To 146 B.C. I. Title. DF211.P77 2003 938⬘.06⬘072—dc22

2003056707

Preface


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his book began in 1990, when I commenced the research for my doctoral dissertation (completed in 1993), an examination of the tendency of certain Greek historians of the fourth century b.c. to sacrifice accuracy, relevance, and impartiality to the presentation of moral exempla. I focused my study upon Xenophon’s Hellenica, Ephorus’s History, and Theopompus’s Philippica because these works all interpret the past in such a way as to provide the most effective moral exemplum, and are in a good enough state of preservation to allow us to form an impression of their general character and methodology. Moreover, the comparatively scant scholarly attention which they received until that time left much terrain for future study. Since 1990, important new works have appeared. To supplement Vivienne Gray’s excellent The Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica of 1989, one ´ can now turn to Jean-Claude Riedinger’s Etude sur les Hell´eniques, Christopher Tuplin’s The Failings of Empire, and John Dillery’s Xenophon and the History of His Times. Theopompus has been the subject of two new monographs, Gordon Shrimpton’s Theopompus the Historian and Michael Flower’s Theopompus of Chios, effectively depriving him of the title that he received in Paul P´edech’s monograph of 1989, Trois historiens m´econnus:

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Th´eopompe—Duris—Phylarche. Only Ephorus now lacks a thorough and up-to-date re-examination. Of course, others have noted the presence of moral elements in the works of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus, but each historian has generally been considered independently of the others. To my knowledge, there has not yet been a systematic examination of the interpretation of the past as moral exempla in fourth-century historians or the intellectual conditions that brought it about. It is my hope that the present study will fill this gap. Moreover, during the process of revisions, I gradually realized that what began as a relatively narrow study of fourth-century historiography also has a wider contribution to make to current debates on literacy and orality, the literary resistance to democratic ideology, and the education of the elite in Athens. As one might expect of any work of scholarship with such a long gestation, my debts are many. The largest is owed to Malcolm B. Wallace, my supervisor and now friend, without whose unstinting advice and encouragement I could not have completed either dissertation or book. I should also like to thank the members of my supervisory committee at the University of Toronto, Joan Bigwood, Brad Inwood, Catherine Rubincam, and John Traill, as well as the internal and external examiners, Doug Hutchinson and Iain Bruce, for their useful suggestions and general encouragement. John Wickersham kindly gave me permission to use his unpublished translation of the Ephorus testimonia and fragments, along with his best wishes. I must also acknowledge the University of Toronto, the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and the Crake Foundation for their generous financial support in the various stages of the completion of my doctorate. For practical assistance of all kinds during the writing of my dissertation, I owe much thanks to my friends and colleagues in the Departments of Classics at the University of Toronto, Mount Allison University, and the Memorial University of Newfoundland. I began the long journey of transforming the dissertation into a book in the most pleasant and stimulating surroundings imaginable, at the Center for Hellenic Studies in Washington, D.C.; I am grateful to the Advisory and Selection Committee for choosing me as one of the inaugural Summer Scholars, to the University of Alberta for providing me with funding to attend, to Deborah Boedeker and Kurt Raaflaub for creating an atmosphere of friendly scholarship, and to my fellow participants, especially Celia Luschnig, for their friendship and support.

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I am the grateful recipient of suppport and encouragement throughout the many years of revisions from various friends and colleagues; in addition to those listed above, I should like to thank Gordon Shrimpton, with whom it is always a pleasure to discuss fourth-century Greek historiography, my colleagues past and present at the University of Alberta, especially Bob Buck, Chris Mackay, and John Wilson, and my graduate students, Theresa Fuller, Ron Kroeker, and Kelly MacFarlane. I should also like to thank my previous editor, Ellen Bauerle, who first encouraged me to send my manuscript to the University of Michigan Press, and her successor, Collin Ganio, for seeing the manuscript through later stages. The anonymous referees of the press made many useful criticisms and gave me much food for further thought. Any errors or omissions that remain should be attributed to my own obduracy rather than to these scholars. I owe the largest debt of all to my husband, Joe, who has provided me with love and friendship, sensible advice, and much computer knowledge since this work was in its infancy; to my parents and parents-in-law, Anne and Henry Skoczylas and Gertrude and Malcolm Pownall, who have provided both moral and financial support; and to my daughters, Katy and Molly, who have tolerated an often distracted mother in the final stages of this book and who daily remind me of what is truly important in life. For most of the authors mentioned in this book, citations are to the most recent Oxford Classical Text. For the fragmentary historians, reference is to F. Jacoby’s Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (FGrHist), under the fragment (F) or testimonium (T) number. A complete translation of the Jacoby corpus of Theopompus can be found in Gordon Shrimpton’s Theopompus the Historian; a translation of some of the fragments of Ephorus (not using Jacoby’s numbering system) has been included in the new edition of G. L. Barber’s The Historian Ephorus. The fragments of the sophists have been collected in the authoritative work by Hermann Diels and Walther Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker (Greek and German), henceforth abbreviated as DK; English translations can be found in Kathleen Freeman, Ancilla to the Pre-Socratic Philosophers, and Rosamond Kent Sprague, The Older Sophists. The abbreviation LSJ is to H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Dictionary, 9th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1940). Versions of portions of chapters 3 and 5 have appeared in print: “Condemnation of the Impious in Xenophon’s Hellenica,”HTR 91 (1998): 251– 77, and “Theopompus’ View of Demosthenes,” in In Altum: Seventy-Five

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Years of Classical Studies in Newfoundland, ed. Mark Joyal (St. John’s, NF: Memorial University of Newfoundland, 2001), 63– 71. Permission to reprint is gratefully acknowledged. I completed researching and writing this book in the fall of 2000 and, for the most part, have been unable to take into account scholarship published thereafter.

Contents


Introduction

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chapter one The Intellectual Context

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chapter two The Menexenus: Plato’s Critique of Political Rhetoric 38 chapter three Xenophon’s Hellenica chapter four Ephorus’s History

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chapter five Theopompus’s Philippica Conclusion Bibliography Index

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Introduction


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ourth-century historiography has often been overlooked and undervalued because much of it exists only in a fragmentary state and that which does survive is considered biased, inaccurate, and prone to moralizing. Unlike Thucydides, whose moralizing is implicit, Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus make the presentation of moral exempla explicit and the primary focus of their histories. Clearly they were less influenced by Thucydides (even though Xenophon and Theopompus both wrote continuations of his History) than by other intellectual forces of their day to make the moral exemplum of more importance than the accurate reporting of events in their historical works. The aim of this book is not to whitewash their lack of concern for preserving an accurate account of the past as to reclaim their place in the development of Greek historiography. The interpretation of the past as a series of moral paradigms by these fourth-century historians represents a step of major importance in historiography, for it becomes the model for subsequent Greek and Roman historians, resulting in the development of the “scientific” history only in modern times. In order to understand how and why this preoccupation with moral exempla arose in Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus, it is necessary to begin with an examination of the intellectual context of the late fifth

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century (chap. 1). The development of professional rhetoric and the questioning of traditional morality by the sophists prompted responses from certain Athenian intellectuals. The most prominent of these were Socrates and Isocrates, whose concern for a moral basis of public life was highly influential upon many of the important literary and political figures of the fourth century. It is certainly no coincidence that Xenophon and Plato were among the crowd of aristocratic young Athenians closely associated with Socrates, and that ancient tradition held both Ephorus and Theopompus to have been students of the school of Isocrates. For that reason, chapters 2 and 3 will be devoted to Plato and Xenophon, and chapters 4 and 5 to Ephorus and Theopompus. In the Menexenus, Plato criticizes the immoral use of the past in contemporary political rhetoric. One of the ways that the Athenian orators flattered their audiences was to use examples from the past, not just to espouse democratic ideology, but to create the mainstream democratic view of history. In chapter 2, I examine what sorts of misleading or false information the orators provide, followed by an examination of the historical survey contained in the Menexenus, the clearest example of Plato’s use of the past for a moral purpose. It may seem odd at first sight that Plato’s Menexenus should appear alongside the historical works of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus, but it has been included in this group for three reasons. First of all, if we attribute much of Xenophon’s concern for moral exempla to Socrates, then it is useful to compare the use of the past for moral instruction by Xenophon in his Hellenica with that offered by Plato, the other of Socrates’ associates whose works are extant. Second, the funeral oration contained in the Menexenus is mainly devoted to a historical survey, where Plato deliberately misrepresents the past in order to expose and ridicule the flattery of political rhetoric. In this way, Plato can also be shown to have manipulated the past in order to provide moral instruction. Third, like the fourth-century historians, Plato directed his writings toward those who were not part of the political mainstream and were very likely opposed to democracy and democratic ideology. In subsequent chapters, I turn to the historical works of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus. I should note here that for Xenophon I discuss only the Hellenica; although he wrote other works with historical content, it is the only one presented as preserving a factual record of the past, as opposed to personal memoirs or a fictional or idealized reconstruction. For each historian, I examine first the specific moral virtues with which he is particularly concerned, then the techniques he uses to instruct

Introduction

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the reader in these virtues, and finally the ways in which and the reasons for which the desire for moral instruction leads him astray from an accurate interpretation of the past. Despite their differences, as members of the elite, writing for the elite, these fourth-century historians composed their histories in such a way as to promote aristocratic virtues. By the beginning of the fourth century, there was a receptive audience among the elite for works with this sort of agenda. After the failure of the oligarchic experiments of the late fifth century, those who were disaffected with the radical democracy in Athens turned to words rather than action.1 This was only natural, for, as recent scholarship has shown, ancient literacy was in fact very restricted,2 and the ability to read a text with comprehension was, by the early fourth century, confined mostly to upper-class males.3 Moreover, as Deborah Tarn Steiner has demonstrated, because prowess in public speech was associated with the democracy, oligarchs and those opposed to the democracy privilege written texts instead.4 Kevin Robb has recently argued that literacy and paideia fully cohere only around the middle of the fourth century, when Plato and the Academy replace the mimesis of the poets with text-dependent education.5 I would suggest that Plato was the best-known, and perhaps the most successful, representative of a movement by a number of fourth-century prose writers, including Isocrates and our historians, toward the use of the written text as an instrument of paideia. Thus, these fourth-century historians take on a larger role than has previously been recognized in the replacement 1. On the withdrawal from politics of the “quietists” or apragmones, see W. Robert Connor, The New Politicians of Fifth-Century Athens (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971; reprint, Indianapolis: Hackett, 1992), 175– 98; and L. B. Carter, The Quiet Athenian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1986). 2. Following the seminal work of Eric A. Havelock (beginning with Preface to Plato [Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963], and reprised in other works, including his final book, The Muse Learns to Write: Reflections on Orality and Literacy from Antiquity to the Present [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986]), see William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989); Rosalind Thomas, Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens, Cambridge Studies in Oral and Literate Culture 18 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), esp. 1– 94; and Literacy and Orality in Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). 3. Kevin Robb, Literacy and Paideia in Ancient Greece (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). 4. “If speech is the hallmark of the democratic city, then writing is associated with those out of sympathy with its radical politics” (Deborah Tarn Steiner, The Tyrant’s Writ: Myths and Images of Writing in Ancient Greece [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994], 7); see also 186– 241. 5. Robb, Literacy and Paideia in Ancient Greece.

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by prose texts of Homer and the poets in the moral education of the elite. The particular responsibility of the historians in this nexus, as we shall see, was to create an alternative aristocratic version of the past, in opposition in particular to the democratic version of the oratorical tradition. Thus, despite their exclusion from Josiah Ober’s important study,6 the fourth-century historians do form part of the literary resistance to Athenian democratic ideology, providing more proof—as if any more were needed—that it is impossible to separate the moral from the political in the Greek mindset.

6. Josiah Ober, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens: Intellectual Critics of Popular Rule (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998). Ober does not believe that historians after Thucydides number among the literary resistance to popular rule (121).

chapter one

The Intellectual Context


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he beginning of the fourth century b.c. coincided with an era of change in many aspects of the Greek world. The generation-long Peloponnesian War ended with the fall of Athens, but so weakened its belligerents that no single Greek city-state was able thereafter to claim hegemony for long. Autocrats seeking power beyond the borders of their home city-states began to play an increasing role in Greek politics, a fact that was naturally reflected in contemporary prose works. The rise of the sophists and the development of professional rhetoric by the end of the fifth century had a substantial effect upon the writing of prose but also led to various responses from Athenian intellectuals. Two of these were Socrates and Isocrates, whose reactions to the intellectual climate of their time consisted of the development and propagation of moral virtues in very different ways. As I shall argue, their influence in turn contributed to the use of the past to illustrate moral exempla in certain fourth-century prose works. Finally, the birth and flowering of historical writing during the fifth century made it a logical instrument, by the beginning of the fourth century, for the dissemination of the moral virtues considered important to its intended audience, the literate elite. Nevertheless, the infusion of a moral agenda into historical writing during the fourth century was not entirely without precedent in the fifth. 5

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There are certainly some signs of moralizing in the two great fifth-century historians, Herodotus and Thucydides, although the moral paradigm was not the main focus of their histories. The stated purpose of Herodotus’s history, given in his opening sentence, is the commemoration of great and wondrous deeds of the past. He does include a didactic element in his Histories, but it is not a simplistic illustration that virtue is rewarded while vice is punished. For Herodotus, there exists a certain balance in the universe maintained by divine providence (3.108– 9).1 The natural ebb and flow of human affairs is played out in Herodotus’s Histories by the cycle of the rise and fall of empires.2 On an individual level, those who are guilty of offenses against the gods (therefore upsetting the proper order of the universe), whether voluntarily or involuntarily, do not prosper, although Herodotus does not always lend authorial approval to the direct intervention of the divine in human affairs and often qualifies such reports with a parenthetical remark or the offering of several alternative explanations, or distances them from his narrative by attributing them to someone else (in either oratio recta or obliqua).3 Yet, to maintain balance the divine also sometimes brings misfortune even to those who have not necessarily committed a crime (although usually there is a concomitant offense) but who are facing the consequences of a choice made generations earlier (the most obvious example is Croesus, who must expiate the crime of his ancestor Gyges) or who are fated to fulfill their destined lot (as in, e.g., the case of Mycerinus at 2.133, whose personal virtue is contrary to the proper order of the universe).4 In spite of the element of destiny, however, the fates of the major historical personages in the Histories are as much due to their lack of understanding of the relevant 1. For the concept of balance in Herodotus, see Henry R. Immerwahr, Form and Thought in Herodotus, Philological Monographs, no. 23 (Cleveland: Press of Western Reserve University, 1966), 152 and n. 8, 172, and 312– 13. 2. See F. Solmsen, Two Crucial Decisions in Herodotus (Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1974). On imperialism and its consequences in Herodotus, see J. A. S. Evans, “The Imperialist Impulse,” in Herodotus, Explorer of the Past: Three Essays (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 9– 40. 3. Juxtaposition of crime and punishment with no authorial endorsement: 2.111, 5.72.3– 4, 5.102.1, 6.19.3, 6.138– 40, 9.116– 21. Authorial endorsement of divine action in human affairs: 1.119– 20, 2.120, 6.91, 7.137.2, 8.129.3, 9.56.2, 9.100.2. Parenthetical remarks: 1.34.1, 8.37.2. Alternative explanations: 6.75– 84. Attribution to another: 1.159.3, 3.30, 6.86α– δ, 6.134. For Herodotus’s caution in matters of divine action, see John Gould, “Herodotus and Religion,” in Greek Historiography, ed. Simon Hornblower (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), 91– 106. 4. On the impossibility of escaping one’s destiny in Herodotus, see Evans, “The Imperialist Impulse,” esp. 33– 38.

The Intellectual Context

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political and practical circumstances,5 an inability underscored by their failure to heed the advice of those who possess the very understanding they lack,6 as to their exhibition of hubris, which, for Herodotus, includes excessive prosperity.7 It is therefore difficult to discern an exclusively moral dimension to their downfalls.8 Nevertheless, certain moral elements in Herodotus, such as the use of digressions to give insight into his “ethical predispositions” and his moral caution against the transgression of limit,9 appear influential in the work of our fourth-century historians. Unlike Herodotus, Thucydides generally avoids the insertion of the supernatural into his narrative and is more interested in the (often disastrous) effects that popular superstition could have upon the course of political and military events (e.g., 6.70.1, 7.79.3, and 7.50.4).10 Nevertheless, Thucydides too contains some moral and didactic elements. As he states at the conclusion of his section on methodology, he intends his work to be  ελιµα)  useful (ωφ to those who wish to achieve a clear understanding both of the events that have happened and of the very similar ones which are going to take place again at some point, in accordance with human nature (1.22.4). In spite of this explicit statement that usefulness is an important criterion, he is never “obtrusively didactic.”11 Instead, his chief aim in his interpretation of the past, as indicated by the methodological section of his prologue (1.20– 22), is to establish an accurate report of what happened, based on a careful analysis of the most trustworthy information available.12 Despite the considerable pains that he takes to emphasize the 5. Carolyn Dewald, “Practical Knowledge and the Historian’s Role in Herodotus and Thucydides,” in The Greek Historians: Literature and History, Papers presented to A. E. Raubitschek (Saratoga, Calif.: ANMA Libri, 1985), 47– 63. 6. On the motifs of the “tragic warner” and the “wise adviser,” see Heinrich Bischoff, Der Warner bei Herodot (diss., Marburg, 1932); and Richmond Lattimore, “The Wise Adviser in Herodotus,” CP 34 (1939): 24– 35. 7. Donald Lateiner, “A Note on the Perils of Prosperity in Herodotus,” RhM 125 (1982): 97– 101. 8. See, e.g., Immerwahr, Form and Thought in Herodotus, and K. H. Waters, Herodotus the Historian: His Problems, Methods, and Originality [London: Croom Helm, 1985), 110– 15 (113: “Fate, fortune and necessity have little to do with morality”); pace, e.g., M. I. Finley, The Greek Historians (New York: Viking, 1959), 6. 9. Stewart Flory, “Arion’s Leap: Brave Gestures in Herodotus,” AJP 99 (1978): 411– 21; Donald Lateiner, The Historical Method of Herodotus, Phoenix Supplementary Volume 23 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989), 140– 44. 10. Simon Hornblower (“The Religious Dimension to the Peloponnesian War, Or, What Thucydides Does Not Tell Us,” HSCP 94 [1992]: 169– 97) attempts to ascertain some of the important religious aspects of the war about which Thucydides leaves us uninformed. 11. John R. Grant, “Towards Knowing Thucydides,” Phoenix 38 (1974): 81– 94, at 89. 12. For a comprehensive analysis of Thucydidean akribeia, see G. Schepens, L’ ‘Autopsie’ dans la M´ethode des historiens grecs du V e si`ecle avant J.-C, Verhandelingen van de Koninklijke

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critical procedure he employs for weighing his evidence,13 it is clear nevertheless that he presents his material in such a way as to induce the reader to view it in the same light as he does. Sometimes he expresses his judgment of the evidence explicitly, but more often he shapes his account in accordance with his selection of material, subtly imposing his own views upon the reader but using an objective style to do so.14 His judgment of the evidence extends not only to the political and military aspects of the conflict but also to its moral effects. In his accounts of the plague (2.47.2– 54) and the stasis at Corcyra (3.81– 83), he is explicit in his view that extreme hardship inevitably results in the disregard of normal social, religious, and moral restraints.15 Some concern for moral edification can be seen also in Thucydides’ dramatic rendering of “purple passages” such as the Mytilenean Debate (3.37– 48), the debate at Plataea (3.53– 60), and the Melian Dialogue (5.85– 113). Moreover, Thucydides is a master of juxtaposition; to take only the most famous examples, it is no accident that Pericles’ funeral oration immediately precedes the plague in his narrative and that the Melian Dialogue is followed by the disastrous Syracusan Expedition. Nevertheless, Thucydides’ moralizing tends to be implicit, by means of juxtaposition,16 and the primary concern in his narrative is to give a careful analysis of how political institutions are affected by a decline in civic morality,17 rather than to provide moral instruction.18 As noted recently by Academie voor Wetenschappen, Letteren en schone Kunsten van Belgi¨e, no. 93 (Brussels, 1980), 113– 46. See now also Gregory Crane, The Blinded Eye: Thucydides and the New Written Word (Lanham, Md.: Rowan and Littlefield, 1996), 50– 65; John Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 68; and Gordon Shrimpton, “Accuracy in Thucydides,” AHB 12 (1998): 71– 82. 13. A. J. Woodman (Rhetoric in Classical Historiography [London: Croom Helm, 1988; Portland, Or: Areopagitica Press, 1988], 1– 47, esp. 22– 23) argues that Thucydides thought that, in view of the care he took to weigh the evidence, he had established a more accurate report than in reality he was able to do. 14. Jacqueline de Romilly, Histoire et raison chez Thucydide, 2d ed. (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1967); Virginia Hunter Thucydides: The Artful Reporter (Toronto: A. M. Hakkert, 1973); and W. Robert Connor Thucydides (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984). 15. On the similarities between these episodes, see Connor, Thucydides, 99– 105. 16. Connor, Thucydides (conclusions 231– 50). 17. Jacqueline de Romilly, The Rise and Fall of States According to Greek Authors (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1977), 49; cf. R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946), 29: “Herodotus may be the father of history, but Thucydides is the father of psychological history.” 18. Simon Hornblower (Thucydides [London: Gerald Duckworth, 1987]) argues (I think, rightly) that, although “a deeply moral writer” (133), “Thucydides is not a moralist, in the sense that he does not try to improve the reader directly, or distribute praise and

The Intellectual Context

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R. B. Rutherford, Thucydides’ aim is with intellectual (his italics) enlightenment, by contrast with the concern for the improvement in moral character displayed by Polybius.19 I intend to show that Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus represent the transition from the historical aims and methods of Herodotus and Thucydides to those of Polybius and the Hellenistic historians. Although our fourth-century historians borrow some of the techniques of Herodotus and Thucydides, they do so not so much to make their histories more credible or even more dramatic, but rather to ensure that their moral lessons do not escape the reader. As I shall argue, the reasons for the prominence of the moral element in fourth-century historical writing are to be found in the reverberations in the intellectual milieu from decades of political, social, and economic upheaval. Among the most dramatic influences on intellectuals, particularly in Athens, were the sophists. By the time that Thucydides was composing his history, the sophists and their teachings had taken firm hold in Athens,20 bringing with them a reevaluation of conventional religion and morality. The sophists, characterized as a group by a turning away from the explanation of natural phenomena to a preoccupation with human affairs, seem to have done so in large part as a reaction to the natural philosophy of the Presocratics.21 On the other hand, we do find in both Xenophanes and Heraclitus attacks on some of the practices of popular religion (DK 21 A 52 and B 15 and 16; DK B 5, 14, 89, and 96) and the relativism of human sensation (DK 21 B censure on every page” (139); cf. Hornblower, A Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 61. Two extreme opinions are those of J. B. Bury (The Ancient Greek Historians, 141): “He does not consider moral standards”; and M. I. Finley (“Thucydides the Moralist,” in Aspects of Antiquity: Discoveries and Controversies, 2d ed. [Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1977], 48– 59, at 58): “. . . it is in the last analysis a moralist’s work.” 19. “Learning from History: Categories and Case-Histories,” in Ritual, Finance, Politics: Athenian Democratic Accounts Presented to David Lewis, ed. Robin Osborne and Simon Hornblower (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), 53– 68; cf. Hornblower, A Commentary on Thucydides, 1:61. On the moralizing aim of Polybius, see Arthur M. Eckstein, Moral Vision in The Histories of Polybius (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995). 20. G. B. Kerferd (The Sophistic Movement [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981], 15– 23) and Jacqueline de Romilly (The Great Sophists in Periclean Athens, trans. Janet Lloyd [Oxford: Clarendon, 1992], 18– 26) discuss the social and political factors that brought the sophists to Athens. 21. See, however, the cautionary remarks of W. K. C. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 6 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962– 81), 2:345– 54. For a summary of the (probable) intellectual causes of the sophistic movement, which are complex, see Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 2:14– 21. The sophists may also have been responding to a demand for their teaching, as suggested by one of the referees for the press.

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38; DK 22 B 61 and 11), ideas more commonly associated with the sophists. It is important to note, however, that both Xenophanes and Heraclitus simply state that relativism is a fact of human existence and do not use it as a means to promote moral (or immoral) behavior. This movement toward relativism and unwillingness to profess an uncritical acceptance of popular religion becomes much more pronounced in the sophists of the first generation. With the sophists, however, we are faced with a methodological problem, for much of their material is preserved by Plato, whose hostility toward them is well known; therefore, we should not accept all that he says about sophists and their teachings. As a general rule, I have tried to include as much evidence as possible from other sources, but it is an unfortunate fact that Plato (bias and all) is our main source of information about the sophists. Moreover, there has recently been a recognition that he was more influenced by the thought of some of the sophists than his hostile attitude would indicate,22 which makes it even more difficult to ascertain which ideas are theirs, and which Plato’s own. Finally, although certain ideas are common to some of the sophists, theirs was not a movement defined by a unity of doctrine.23 Protagoras, usually considered the first of the sophists,24 asserts not only that humans are not capable of knowing about the gods but that he himself cannot say for certain whether or not they exist (DK 80 B 4 and A 12). He makes explicit and universal the relativism implied in both Xenophanes and Heraclitus in what is perhaps his most famous saying of all, “Man is the measure of all things” (Sextus Empiricus, adversus Mathematicos 7.60⫽DK 80 B 1; cf. A 13 and 19). Now, as the evidence of Aristotle makes clear (Metaphysics 1009a, 1062b13⫽DK 80 A 19; cf. Plato, Theaetetus 167a– b⫽DK 80 A 21a), Protagoras extends the concept of relativism to include values in addition to physical sensations.25 Protagoras’s successors carry his agnosticism and relativism to greater lengths. Prodicus, who is said to have been his pupil (DK 84 A 1), postu22. See, e.g., Thomas Cole, The Origins of Rhetoric in Ancient Greece (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), esp. 1– 30, and Michael Gagarin, “Probability and Persuasion: Plato and Early Greek Rhetoric,” in Persuasion: Greek Rhetoric in Action, ed. Ian Worthington (London: Routledge, 1994), 46– 68. 23. Although his definition of relativism is very narrow, Richard Bett (“The Sophists and Relativism,” Phronesis 34 [1989]: 139– 69) provides a useful corrective to the common view that the sophists as a group were relativists. 24. By, e.g., Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:63. 25. Laszlo Versenyi, “Protagoras’ Man-Measure Fragment,” AJP 83 (1962): 178– 84; reprinted in Sophistik, ed. Carl Joachim Classen (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1976), 290– 97.

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lates a purely human origin of the gods in gratitude for the gifts of nature (DK 84 B 5); not surprisingly, the verdict in antiquity was that he was an atheist.26 Democritus also proposes a human origin for religious beliefs, attributing their invention to early humans’ fear when confronted with natural phenomena (DK 68 A 75; cf. B 30). Similarly, if we accept Thomas Cole’s argument that the ultimate source for the Kulturgeschichte found in most later accounts is Democritus,27 then he substitutes purely natural causes for the traditional divine origins of human cultural achievement. Thus, unlike even Plato’s Protagoras, in whose myth Prometheus provided humans with technological skill, while Zeus dispensed justice  (Protagoras 321d– 23a),28 Democritus gives the (δι κη) and shame (α ι δ ως) aetiology of contemporary morality in human rather than divine terms. Far more radical than the agnosticism of Protagoras or the attempts by Prodicus and Democritus to look for the origin of the gods in the natural reaction of human beings toward phenomena that they do not understand is the statement in the satyr-play Sisyphus that religion is an artificial construct. The title character expresses the atheistic view that belief in the gods is an invention of an early lawmaker as a device to ensure lawful behavior. With the fear of divine retribution removed and no moral sanction of any kind put in its place, there is no longer any reason to obey either religious or civic law. Although this passage is traditionally included among the fragments of Critias (DK 88 B 25), whose disrespect for both the gods and the laws was notorious,29 it is possible that it is derived instead from a satyr-play by Euripides.30 26. The relevant passages are collected by Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:238– 42. Albert Henrichs (“Two Doxographical Notes: Democritus and Prodicus on Religion,” HSCP 79 [1975]: 93– 123, esp. 107– 9) notes that PHerc 1428 fr. 19 (not included in DK 84) provides confirmatory proof of Prodicus’s own admission of atheism. 27. Thomas Cole, Democritus and the Sources of Greek Anthropology (Chapel Hill, N.C.: Press of Western Reserve University, 1967; reprinted with additional material, Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990). See now also Cynthia Farrar, The Origins of Democratic Thinking: The Invention of Politics in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 241– 64. 28. Many scholars have expressed skepticism that the agnostic Protagoras would have included a theological aspect in his myth on the origins of human society; see, e.g., Eric A. Havelock, The Liberal Temper in Greek Politics (London: Jonathan Cape, 1957), 407– 9. 29. Critias was implicated in the mutilation of the Hermae (Andocides 1.47), was guilty of sacrilege in dragging Theramenes away from the sanctuary of an altar to his death (Xenophon, Hellenica 2.3.54– 55), and, as the leader of the Thirty, was responsible for the most lawless government ever to be in power at Athens (Xenophon, Hellenica 2.3– 4). 30. Albrecht Dihle, “Das Satyrspiel «Sisyphos,»” Hermes 105 (1977): 28– 42; see now Charles H. Kahn, “Greek Religion and Philosophy in the Sisyphus Fragment,” Phronesis 42 (1997): 247– 62.

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Whoever the author, this statement does reflect the cynicism of late fifth-century Athens, as exemplified by the well-known incidents of the mutilation of the Hermae and the profanation of the Mysteries. Less well known perhaps is the existence of a certain club whose members called themselves the Kakodaemonistae, a name chosen, according to Lysias,31 in order to mock both the gods and the laws of Athens. The practice of this club was to dine together on certain unlucky days, which suggests, as E. R. Dodds points out, that its purpose was to “exhibit its scorn of superstition by deliberately tempting the gods.”32 An apparent reaction against the new trend toward atheism and irreligion is the series of prosecutions of prominent intellectuals on the grounds of atheism.33 Although skepticism has been expressed about their historicity,34 the evidence for these prosecutions has been preserved in many sources, and therefore it seems unlikely that it all was invented, even though some of the details are uncertain.35 The prosecution of Anaxagoras is the earliest of the series, occurring before the Peloponnesian War.36 Although it is possible that he was prosecuted as a result of the decree of Diopeithes for the impeachment of atheists and astronomers, as Plutarch tells us (Pericles 32.1), there is no reason to doubt his assertion that it was in reality directed against Pericles, especially since other friends of his found themselves on trial at about the same time. Other prosecutions, such as that of Diagoras, who may have been a member of Cinesias’s notorious dining club,37 prob31. Lysias F 53 (Thalheim) apud Athenaeus 551e– 52b. 32. E. R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, Sather Classical Lectures 25 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1951), 188. 33. For a comprehensive discussion of the charges, sources, and dates of these prosecutions, see Eudore Derenne, Les proc`es d’impi´et´e intent´es aux philosophes a` Ath`enes au V me et au IVme si`ecles avant J.-C. (Li`ege: H. Vaillant-Carmanne, 1930; reprint, New York: Arno Press, 1976), 13– 175. 34. K. J. Dover, “The Freedom of the Intellectual in Greek Society,” Talanta 7 (1976): 24– 54, reprinted in The Greeks and Their Legacy: Collected Papers, vol. 2 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), 135– 58; see also Robert W. Wallace, “Private Lives and Public Enemies: Freedom of Thought in Classical Athens,” in Athenian Identity and Civic Ideology, ed. Alan L. Boegehold and Adele C. Scaufuro (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 127– 55. 35. Kerferd, The Sophistic Movement, 21. 36. Ephorus, FGrHist 70 F 196 apud Diodorus Siculus 12.39.2; Plutarch, Pericles 32.1; and Sotion apud Diogenes Laetius 2.12. The trial occurred either in 450 (Leonard Woodbury, “Anaxagoras and Athens,” Phoenix 35 [1981]: 295– 315) or, more likely, in 437/6 (J. Mansfeld, “The Chronology of Anaxagoras’ Athenian Period and the Date of His Trial,” Mnemosyne 4th ser., vol. 32 [1979]: 39– 69 and 4th ser., vol. 33 [1980]: 17– 95). 37. Leonard Woodbury, “The Date and Atheism of Diagoras of Melos,” Phoenix 19 (1965): 178– 211, who dates Diagoras’ prosecution to the politically charged atmosphere of 415.

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ably took place much later in the war, and the witch-hunting atmosphere in Athens midway through the war is illustrated well by Thucydides’ description of the reaction to the mutilation of the Hermae and the profanation of the Mysteries (6.27– 28, 53, and 60– 61). Public feeling against those accused of impiety did not abate even after the end of the war, as indicated by the vehemence of the sentiments expressed against Andocides (esp. [Lysias] 6) and Socrates, whose trials occurred within a few months of each other in 399. Thus, it is hard not to come to the conclusion that the suffering caused by the Peloponnesian War and its aftermath made the Athenians more intolerant of views that could be supposed to have provoked the wrath of the gods.38 Just as Protagoras’s agnosticism becomes outright atheism, so his relativism becomes outright immoralism in the statements attributed to some of his successors. An example of a later application of Protagoras’s relativism is the anonymous treatise written in the Doric dialect sometime shortly after the end of the Peloponnesian War (DK 90 1.8), the so-called Dissoi Logoi (Twofold Arguments).39 Four of the chapters contain “twofold arguments” about pairs of moral terms that are usually opposite in meaning. On the basis of numerous examples, the author concludes that in each case the terms are the same because, depending upon one’s point of view, an action can be simultaneously good and evil (or honorable and shameful, etc.). Of course, if there are no absolute standards and all moral concepts are relative, one can always find a justification for any action, no matter how reprehensible. It is in this spirit that a character in Euripides’ lost Aeolus (F 19 Nauck) asks rhetorically in defense of incest, “What action is shameful, if it does not seem so to the one who does it?” With this weakening of belief in objective standards upheld by human law (nomos), many of the sophists turn instead to the laws of nature (physis).40 The rationale behind the rejection of nomos in favor of physis is, as 38. See, e.g., Dover (in the afterword [158] to the 1988 reprint of his 1976 “Freedom of the Intellectual,”) on his discussion of the trial of Socrates: “I consider now that I attached too much weight to the political aspects of the trial, and not enough to the mood of superstitious fear (‘What has gone wrong? Are there after all gods who can be offended?’) which is very likely to have descended on Athens between 405 and 395.” 39. On the dating of the Dissoi Logoi, see T. M. Robinson, Contrasting Arguments: An Edition of the Dissoi Logoi (New York: Arno Press, 1979; reprint, Salem, N.H.: Ayer, 1984), 34– 41. See, however, Thomas M. Conley, “Dating the So-Called Dissoi Logoi: A Cautionary Note,” Ancient Philosophy 5 (1985): 59– 65. 40. The fullest treatment of the so-called nomos and physis antithesis remains the magisterial work of F. Heinimann, Nomos und Physis: Herkunft und Bedeutung einer Antithese im griechischen Denken des 5. Jahrhunderts (Basel: Friedrich Reinhardt, 1945).

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the Platonic Hippias says in the Protagoras, that nomos, the tyrant of human beings, constrains us contrary to nature in many things (337d⫽DK 86 C 1). Upholders of the superiority of physis advocate discarding nomos in favor of physis for purely self-interested reasons. Antiphon41 argues that the most expedient way to employ justice for one’s self-interest is to obey the laws when witnesses are present but otherwise to follow the dictates of nature (DK 87 B 44A). Another statement of the physis doctrine holds the view that in cases when it is expedient, it is human nature for the stronger to subjugate the weaker in the name of justice. The most well known exponent of this view (although he does not frame it specifically in these terms) is Thrasymachus in the first book of Plato’s Republic, whose arguments are also of intrinsic interest because he is historically attested as a teacher of rhetoric (DK 85). In the most extreme expressions of the physis doctrine, the stronger has not only the power but also the obligation to aim for absolute authority and unrestrained self-indulgence. This ideal of the selfish domination of others as a natural right is held by Callicles in Plato’s Gorgias (481b– 522e). By presenting the laws of human provenance as artificial, Callicles appeals to natural law as a justification for acts of the utmost lawlessness, tyranny, and licentiousness. Whether or not he represented the true views of Thrasymachus and Callicles (if the latter did in fact exist as a historical person),42 it is certain that Plato makes them express views that were current in Athens after the end of the Peloponnesian War.43 Nevertheless, as much as Plato may have wanted to attribute immoralistic doctrines of this type to the sophists, such statements stem rather from the profound political, social, and economic crises in Athens during the last quarter of the fifth century.44 Not only was there the moral disintegration arising from the war itself,45 but also the 41. There has been considerable debate as to whether or not Antiphon the sophist is identical with Antiphon the orator (see Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:285– 86 and 292– 94). Recently, Michael Gagarin (“The Ancient Tradition on the Identity of Antiphon,” GRBS 31 [1990]: 27– 44) has presented arguments in favor of the “unitarian” thesis, and Gerard J. Pendrick (“The Ancient Tradition on Antiphon Reconsidered,” GRBS 34 [1993]: 215– 28), in favor of the “separatist” thesis. 42. See E. R. Dodds, ed., Plato: Gorgias (Oxford: Clarendon, 1959), 12– 13. 43. For the date (both dramatic and absolute) of the Gorgias, see Dodds, Plato: Gorgias, 17– 30. 44. See Charles H. Kahn, “The Origins of Social Contract Theory,” in The Sophists and Their Legacy, 92– 108, esp. 107, and de Romilly, The Great Sophists, 134– 61. 45. On the profound effects of the Peloponnesian War upon Greek society in general, see the discussion of Simon Hornblower, The Greek World 479–323 B.C. (London: Methuen, 1983; rev. ed., London: Routledge, 1991), 153– 80.

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effects of the plague and civil war. Furthermore, deep dissatisfaction with the policies of the radical democracy in Athens was widespread, not only from without, as we can see from the secession of many of Athens’s allies, but also within, as is shown by the very fact that the oligarchic revolutions of 411 and 404 occurred at all. The members of the aristocratic class, already frustrated by the perceived incompetence of the demagogic leaders of Athens, were also suffering great financial losses as a result of the Spartan occupation of Decelea. It is perhaps not surprising that in a society in which the gods and the laws have lost their force, some of the second generation of sophists turn the skepticism expressed by Protagoras toward traditional religious and moral values into outright rejection; in short, as Jacqueline de Romilly puts it, a tabula rasa.46 At the same time as the development of this new critical attitude among sophists of the second generation, the rise of rhetoric provided them with a tool by which they could teach the effective persuasion of others;47 certainly it is no coincidence that most of the sophists appear to have had some interest in the art of rhetoric.48 Aristotle (apud Cicero, Brutus 46) attributes the origins of rhetoric to fifth-century Syracuse, in the rash of litigation subsequent to the overthrow of the tyranny, and mentions Corax and Tisias as the first authors of theoretical handbooks on the art of effective speaking.49 At around the same time, fifth-century Athens was faced with the problem of adapting the democratic process to judicial procedure, and so there arose a growing market for handbooks of instruction for the inexperienced prospective litigant.50 Following Ephialtes’ transference of many of the powers of the aristocratic Areopagus to the Council, the Assembly, and the law courts (Ath. Pol. 25.2), a political 46. de Romilly, The Great Sophists. 47. For an up-to-date and comprehensive bibliography of recent work on rhetoric, see T. L. Papillon, “Recent Writings in Greek Rhetoric and Oratory,” CJ 93 (1998): 331– 44, esp. 331 and n. 1. 48. Heinrich Gomperz (Sophistik und Rhetorik [Leipzig: Teubner, 1912; reprint Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1965], esp. 35– 49) overstates the fundamentality of rhetoric to the sophistic movement. 49. For a succinct discussion of the conflicting traditions on these obscure figures, see George Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion in Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), 58– 61; Thomas Cole (“Who was Corax?” ICS 16 [1991]: 65– 84) makes the (overly?) ingenious suggestion that the confusion that we find in our sources between Corax and Tisias arises from the fact that they are one and the same. See now also Edward Schiappa, The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory in Classical Greece (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), 34– 47. 50. Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion, 27– 29.

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career depended more upon the ability to sway one’s fellow citizens to one’s viewpoint in these public fora than upon one’s family connections.51 Anyone who had the ability to pay for instruction in rhetoric now could learn how to become powerful in politics. Moreover, the great increase in legal and political business at Athens produced by the empire as it developed offered more and more opportunity for the ambitious to carve out a political career through the ability to speak persuasively.52 As the way to achieve political success in fifth-century Athens increasingly depended upon one’s rhetorical ability, the need for instruction beyond handbooks arose and tutors appeared on the scene. The most influential of the earlier instructors of rhetoric are probably Protagoras and Gorgias. Protagoras’s curriculum appears to have had a political basis.53 He seems to have applied his relativism to the art of rhetoric, for, according to Diogenes Laertius (9.51⫽DK 80 B 6a, cf. A 20), he was the first to claim that two contrary arguments can be made about any subject. Furthermore, he was famous for his ability to make the weaker argument the stronger (Aristotle, Rhetoric 1402a23⫽DK 80 B 6b; cf. A 21 and C 2), and it can safely be assumed that this was one of the lessons that he taught his pupils. Aristotle (apud Cicero, Brutus 46) informs us that one of Protagoras’s methods of teaching was to furnish his students with readycomposed disputations on large topics, which in Cicero’s time were called commonplaces (communes loci). Antiphon’s Tetralogies, which consist of model speeches both for the prosecution and the defense in the same trial, may provide an example of what Protagoras had in mind;54 the argument from probability is prominent. It is easy to see from these examples how the manipulation of arguments required to defend opposing points of view could be construed as the perversion of truth and justice. Although Gorgias cannot be said to have brought rhetoric to Athens in his embassy of 427, for the seeds were already present,55 it is certainly true that it thereafter became an integral part of an education in public life.56 51. Connor, The New Politicians of Fifth-Century Athens, esp. 139– 98. 52. Thucydides 1.77; [Xenophon] Ath. Pol. 1.14– 18; R. Meiggs, The Athenian Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 220– 33.  53. “political craft” (η πολιτικ η τεχνη) (Plato, Protagoras 319a; cf. 322b) and “political   (322e). excellence” (η πολιτικ η αρετ η) 54. Cf. Plutarch, Pericles 36.5 (⫽DK 80 A10), where Protagoras and Pericles discuss a case identical to that of the Second Tetralogy. 55. See, e.g., Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion, 26– 51, and Friedrich Solmsen, Intellectual Experiments of the Greek Enlightenment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975), 24– 31. 56. Edward Schiappa (“Did Plato Coin Rh¯ etorik¯ e ?” AJP 111 [1990]: 457– 70; argument reprised in Protagoras and Logos: A Study in Greek Philosophy and Rhetoric [Columbia,

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The Platonic Gorgias is aware that the students of rhetoric can put the skills they learn to immoral use but argues that the teacher is not responsible (Gorgias 456c– 457c). Thus, even though Gorgias’s instruction may have been intentionally “morally neutral,”57 he does put into the hands of the unscrupulous an effective tool to manipulate others into accepting doctrines of expediency and opportunism. If we can trust Plato’s portrayal, for Gorgias the chief goal of rhetoric is persuasion, especially of one’s fellow citizens (Plato, Gorgias 452e; cf. Philebus 58a– b). In his discussion of persuasion by speech in the Helen (DK 82 B 11.8– 14), Gorgias states explicitly that a single speech, composed with skill but not truth, is able to persuade a large crowd (13).58 Thus, he seems to have taught that that which is plausible, and therefore able to persuade, is more important than the truth, for which he, along with Tisias, is criticized by the Platonic Socrates (Phaedrus 267a– 6⫽DK 80 A 26). Like Protagoras, Gorgias prepared “commonplaces” for his students; these logoi, which were to be memorized, included arguments on both sides of an issue (Aristotle, Sophistical Refutations 183b⫽DK 82 B 14).59 According to Aristotle (apud Cicero, Brutus 47⫽DK 82 A 25), Gorgias’s chief concern in these loci communes was with praise and blame, for the orator’s most important task was to magnify a subject by praise or to weaken it by blame. Gorgias was fond of antithesis, metaphors, balanced constructions, and other figures of speech, which could be adapted to suit the particular circumstances of the speaker; at first his exaggerated use of S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 1991], 39– 63 and Appendix B and The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, esp. 14– 29), and Cole (The Origins of Rhetoric, esp. ix, 2, 22– 30, 98– 99, 157– 58) have simultaneously argued that “rhetoric,” as Plato defines it, does not occur until the fourth century, and thus cannot be applied to fifth-century practices and doctrines.

Nevertheless, even if the term ρητορικ η appears for the first time in the fourth century, this does not preclude the fifth-century development of the teaching and theory that “rhetoric” came to denote, as Schiappa himself concedes (Protagoras and Logos, 68). Moreover, as Neil

 ρητορικ  Mnemosyne 4th ser., vol. 46 O’Sullivan has pointed out (“Plato and η καλουµενη η,”

  in the [1993]: 87– 89), Plato’s reference to “so-called rhetoric” (η καλουµενη ρητορικ η) Gorgias (448d) indicates that the term was already in common use. For a refutation of other

 RhM 141 aspects of Schiappa’s argument, see now Gerard J. Pendrick, “Plato and ρητορικ η,” (1998): 10– 23. 57. The phrase is Dodds’s (Plato: Gorgias, 10). 58. Charles P. Segal, “Gorgias and the Psychology of the Logos,” HSCP 66 (1962): 99– 155, at 122– 23. 59. Carlo Natali (“Aristote et les m´ethodes d’enseignement de Gorgias [R´ef. Soph. 34, 183b36– 184a8],” in Positions de la sophistique, 105– 16) argues convincingly that Aristotle is referring here to simple arguments, rather than to whole speeches such as Gorgias’s Helen and Palamedes (DK 82 B11 and 11a).

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such figures was a novelty but eventually became considered excessive (Diodorus Siculus 12.53.4⫽DK 82 A 4).60 These so-called Gorgianic figures, borrowed from poetry, were intended to deceive and bewitch the audience, resulting in successful persuasion to the speaker’s point of view.61 The emphasis on praise and blame, the Gorgianic figures, and the use of deception and magic effectively aid in the subordination of truth to persuasion. Although the ability to persuade large audiences was an effective skill for those aiming to make their mark in politics, rhetoric also brought with it a greater concern with means than with ends, and so the charge that it could be used for immoral purposes was an obvious one. One example of a refutation of arguments of the Calliclean type is the so-called Anonymus Iamblichi, a document by an unknown writer, dating from the late fifth or early fourth century.62 Because standard sophistic themes are contained in this work, the names of various known sophists have been put forward as author, none conclusively;63 but given the stand the writer takes against these very themes, it seems likely that he was not a sophist. The writer suggests that if one wants to become successful, then it is a matter of both natural ability and lengthy practice in seeking after what is honorable and good (DK 89 1– 2); he thus appears to attack the easily acquired tricks of rhetoric that the sophists generally teach their students (DK 89 2.6– 7). The writer also provides arguments against the holders of doctrines of the Thrasymachean or Calliclean type, by attempting to make a reconciliation between nomos and physis and to demonstrate that acts of lawlessness and tyranny will in the long run not prove advantageous to those who commit them (DK 89 6.1– 4). The text, as we have it, concludes with a discussion of the advantages of observing the law and justice in everyday life (DK 89 7). The writer of the Anonymus Iamblichi couples success in civic life with 60. See Carl Joachim Classen, “The Study of Language amongst Socrates’ Contemporaries,” PACA 2 (1959): 33– 49; reprint in Sophistik, 215– 47, esp. 226– 29; Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion, 64– 67; Jacqueline de Romilly, Magic and Rhetoric in Ancient Greece, Carl Newell Jackson Lectures, 1974 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975), 8– 22; and Schiappa, The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, 85– 98. As Schiappa notes (98– 102), however, Gorgias’ critics were the educated elite, whereas his speeches were oral performances to large, possibly semiliterate audiences. 61. Helen 8– 14 (DK 82 B 11): deception (8, 10), magic (10, 14); cf. B 23 on deception in tragedy. See further Segal, “Gorgias and the Psychology of the Logos,” 99– 115; de Romilly, Magic and Rhetoric in Ancient Greece, 3– 22; and W. J. Verdenius, “Gorgias’ Doctrine of Deception, in The Sophists and Their Legacy, 116– 28. 62. See Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:315. 63. For a summary of various suggestions, see de Romilly, The Great Sophists, 169 n. 6.

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moral virtue. In doing so, he shares a concern with Socrates (with whom it is more commonly associated) that the young were being taught immorality by the sophists. Because Socrates left nothing in writing, it is difficult to separate his ideas from those who preserved his memory, particularly Plato and Xenophon, whose most influential works on the “historical” Socrates, the Apology and the first two chapters of the first book of the Memorabilia, are cast in the form of defenses and are at least as much concerned with rehabilitating the reputation of Socrates against the claims of his detractors as with recording what he actually said and did.64 There is no reason, however, to doubt the claim that Socrates disassociated himself from the sophists by claiming that he had never taught anyone and that he had never charged a fee to anyone, young or old, rich or poor, who wished to enter into discussions with him (Plato, Apology 19d, 33a– b; cf. Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.2.3, 1.2.5). Furthermore, he befriended only those whose nature would allow them to benefit from discussion with him, and sent all others to the sophists (Plato, Theaetetus 151b; cf. Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.6.13). Although later tradition holds that Socrates turned philosophical inquiry away from the natural world to human ethics,65 it is clear that he could not have done so were it not for the contributions of the sophists to contemporary thought.66 Socrates’ interest in the definitions of ethical terms is perhaps the bestknown feature of his thought, for Plato, Xenophon, and Aristotle mention it repeatedly. A concern for the correctness of words is also a feature of the thought of some of the sophists,67 but in Socrates’ hands it undergoes a transformation. Instead of looking for the definition of an ethical term in the expediency of the moment, he insists over and over again that it is necessary to define the fundamental, fixed nature of justice, piety, courage, and other such moral virtues. Only after determining what exactly a certain 64. On the complexities of the Socratic literature and a reasonable account of what can be deduced of Socrates’ own ideas, see Charles H. Kahn, Plato and the Socratic Dialogue: The Philosophical Use of a Literary Form (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 1– 35 and 71– 100. 65. Aristotle, De partibus animalium 642a, Metaphysics 987b and 1078b; Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.4.10– 11, Academica 1.4.15, and Brutus 8.31; see also Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:410– 25. 66. Kerferd, The Sophistic Movement, 129.  67. Although Plato attributes instruction in the “correctness of names” (ονοµατων  ορθοτης) to Protagoras (Cratylus 267c; cf. Phaedrus 267c) and the sophists in general (Cratylus 391b), it is Prodicus who is particularly concerned with the precise distinctions between words of similar meaning (Plato, Cratylus 384b; cf. Protagoras 341a– e and DK 84 A 13– 19).

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virtue is can it be put into practice. Using the “Socratic method,” he involves his companions in informal conversation, attempting to elicit from them the definitions of basic moral virtues. Although professing his own ignorance, he then points out the flaws of the definitions proposed by his interlocutor, which often represent the traditional conception of the moral virtues under discussion, hoping that the process of clearing away false notions would lead them both closer to true knowledge. While Socrates’ method has a superficial similarity with that of the sophists in its construction of contrary arguments, he seeks not only to expose inconsistencies but to incite his interlocutors to resolve them and, in so doing, to elucidate the true meaning of the moral virtues being discussed.68 Another well-attested feature of Socratic thought is the equation of the good with the advantageous, a notion not peculiar to Socrates alone but typical of traditional Greek thought.69 In keeping with his characteristic common sense, Socrates argues that what is good is also useful (Plato, Hippias Major 295c, Gorgias 474d, Meno 87d– e; Xenophon, Memorabilia 3.8.5, 4.6.8– 10, Symposium 5.4– 7). Despite the apparent relativism of Socrates’ view that “the goodness of anything lies in its fitness to perform its proper function,” the end product, whether it be justice, piety, or courage, is objectively, rather than subjectively, determined.70 For Socrates, virtue is knowledge (e.g., Plato, Protagoras 352a; Xenophon, Memorabilia 3.9.5; Aristotle, E.N. 1144b, E.E. 1216b). Because the ultimate goal of all human beings is happiness (eudaimonia),71 humans will do what they think is good, which leads in turn to eudaimonia; and if they do wrong, they do so only out of ignorance of the good.72 Socrates was surrounded by a group composed of many of the young 68. On the positive aim of the Socratic elenchus, see Norman Gulley, The Philosophy of Socrates (London: Macmillan, 1968), 39– 62; Terence Irwin, Plato’s Moral Theory: The Early and Middle Dialogues (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977), esp. 37– 38; Gregory Vlastos, “The Socratic Elenchus,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1 (1983): 27– 58 and 71– 74; reprinted with additional material in Socratic Studies, ed. Myles Burnyeat (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 1– 37; for a different view, see Hugh H. Benson, “The Dissolution of the Problem of the Elenchus,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 13 (1995): 45– 112. 69. Bruno Snell, The Discovery of the Mind in Greek Philosophy and Literature, trans. T. G. Rosenmeyer (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1953; reprint, New York: Dover, 1982), 156– 60. 70. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:462– 67; quotation at 464. 71. For the concept of eudaimonia, see Laszlo Versenyi, Socratic Humanism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963), 79– 81; and Gregory Vlastos, Socrates, Ironist and Moral Philosopher (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991), 201– 3. 72. For the ancient references to this “paradox,” see Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 3:459– 61.

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aristocrats who were most active in Athens toward the end of the fifth century. Even though he himself took little part in active politics (e.g, Plato, Apology 31c– 33b), he often discussed with his young friends the way they could govern the city most justly and honorably,73 because many of those in his circle possessed the means and the family connections to pursue a political career. For Socrates, in order to do what is good, one must first know what is good, and so it is necessary to instill moral virtues into those ambitious for a political career.74 Nevertheless, his emphasis on knowledge for right action was profoundly undemocratic, as both Plato and Xenophon felt obliged to note,75 and therefore appealed to those who had little interest in conforming to the democratic system, which was eventually one of the major, although underlying, causes of his trial and condemnation.76 Socrates’ concern for a moral basis of public life, while unpopular with the Athenian democracy, did find fertile terrain in the group of (mainly) aristocratic young Athenians who followed the philosopher around as he engaged others in discussions upon moral subjects. It is indeed not surprising that the works of both Xenophon and Plato, although very different, center around ethical matters. Socrates’ search to elicit from his interlocutors the definitions of basic moral virtues in order to help them see the best method to achieve right conduct in their given sphere of life thus seems to have induced both Plato and Xenophon, the two of his circle whose works containing historical material are extant, to use the past as a means of moral instruction of the elite. Like Socrates, Isocrates stood apart from public life. Although he claimed to lack the voice and the confidence to play an active role in politics,77 this claim of physical weakness is likely to be a rhetorical topos, designed to reinforce his efforts to distinguish himself from the orators of the law courts, whom he considered corrupt.78 Instead of engaging in 73. E.g., Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.6.15. 74. Cf. Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, trans. Gilbert Highet, 3 vols. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1939– 44), 2:48– 57; and Mario Montuori, Socrates: An Approach (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, 1988), 18– 19 and 72– 75. 75. Plato, Apology, and Xenophon, Memorabilia, 1.2. 76. On Plato’s representation of Socrates’ philosophy as outside the Athenian democracy, see Andrea Wilson Nightingale, Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 13– 59. 77. 5.81, 12.9– 10, Ep. 8.7; cf. Ep. 1.9. 78. Gunther Heilbrunn, “Isocrates on Rhetoric and Power,” Hermes 103 (1975): 154– 78; and Yun Lee Too, The Rhetoric of Identity in Isocrates: Text, Power, Pedagogy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 74– 112.

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politics himself, Isocrates first wrote forensic speeches for others to deliver in the courts, and then opened a formal school, in which, according to tradition, he taught many of the leading figures in the political and literary spheres in the fourth century.79 In particular, he appears to have been an effective facilitator of the entry of young aristocrats into the public sphere. Although his aim of training future statesmen was similar to that of the sophists and (to a certain extent) that of Socrates, Isocrates was very careful to distinguish himself from the other schools of his day. In both defenses of his system of education, one dating from the beginning of his teaching career (Against the Sophists) and the other from toward the end (Antidosis),80 as well as the introductory section of the Helen (10.1– 15),81 Isocrates offers explanations for his criticisms of his rivals. In short, he particularly objects to the impracticality of the high-flown ethical discussions of the Socratics and to the indifference to political morality of some of the sophists. Unfortunately, the only extant sections of Against the Sophists contain Isocrates’ criticism of the other schools, and his own theory of education is lost; such, at least, is the traditional view.82 Recently, several scholars (following Wilamowitz) have challenged this assumption, arguing that Isocrates deliberately left the text incomplete.83 Be that as it may, it is necessary in any case to infer Isocrates’ own system of education, which he
 describes as education in discourse (η των λογων παιδει α),84 from scat79. R. Johnson (“A Note on the Number of Isocrates’ Pupils,” AJP 78 [1957]: 297– 300) reviews the evidence for the number of pupils whom Isocrates had both in his lifetime and in any given year. 80. Isocrates himself tells us when they were written at 15.9, 193, and 195. 81. John Poulakos (“Argument, Practicality, and Eloquence in Isocrates’ Helen,” Rhetorica 4 [1986]: 1– 19) argues that Isocrates offers an alternative to his competitors’ system of education in the Helen (but see Terry L. Papillon, “Isocrates on Gorgias and Helen: The Unity of the Helen,” CJ 91 [1996]: 377– 91, who argues that Isocrates intends a more general paideutic function). 82. See, e.g., Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion, 177. 83. Christoph Eucken, Isokrates: Seine Position in der Auseinandersetzung mit den zeitgen¨ossischen Philosophen (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1983), 5– 6; Michael Cahn, “Reading Rhetoric Rhetorically: Isocrates and the Marketing of Insight,” Rhetorica 7 (1989): 121– 44; and Too, The Rhetoric of Identity in Isocrates, esp. 171– 79 and 194– 99. 84. See, e.g., 15.180. I note that Edward Schiappa (The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, 170) has offered the same translation for this loaded phrase. On Isocrates’ use of paideia, see Edmund Buchner, Der Panegyrikos des Isokrates, Historia Einzelschriften 2 (Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1958), 54– 55. The term paideia is made famous to the modern world by Werner Jaeger, who used it as the title for his three-volume work on the development of Greek intellectual culture.

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tered references in other works.85 While the subject matter of his curriculum is “philosophy” (e.g., 1.3, 13.1, and 21, 15.271), he aims to provide instruction that will result in both practical benefit and moral political conduct (15.168; 10.4). Although his chief educational focus is the art of speaking well (3.5– 9⫽15.253– 57, 4.47– 49), technical skill in speaking is not to be subordinated to producing students of good moral character (cf. 1.4, 12.87, 13.21).86 Moreover, he emphasizes that a good speaker ought to offer some kind of benefit to the listener (4.4; cf. 12.11– 14 and 271, 15.3). Because the process of theorizing about the moral virtues serves to make them inaccessible to the ordinary person, Isocrates advocates as a basis of his conception of rhetoric a workable morality accepted by all, bringing immediate benefit without empty speculation that is of no practical use to anyone (15.84). Furthermore, the achievement of virtue should have a more practical aim than the improvement of the individual character. It is not surprising, then, that civic virtue, as well as individual virtue, is the ultimate goal of Isocrates’ system of education (12.137 and 15.285).87 The emphasis upon moral virtue in the Antidosis and in his Cyprian orations makes it especially clear that Isocrates aims at achieving moral reform in the political arena by influencing the character of the leaders who will dominate it.88 By providing the future political leaders of his time with a grounding in workable morality, Isocrates hopes to make them not only more upstanding in private life but also more valuable in their service to the state. Thus, Isocrates’ view of moral virtue appears essentially pragmatic.89 In his political orations, he 85. On Isocrates’ system of education, see R. Johnson, “Isocrates’ Methods of Teaching,” AJP 80 (1950): 25– 36; Frederic W. Schlatter, “Isocrates, Against the Sophists, 16,” AJP 93 (1972): 591– 97; and Erika Rummel, “The Effective Teacher and the Successful Student,” EMC/CV 21 (1977): 92– 96. 86. For Isocrates’ concern for moral edification, see Daniel Gillis, “The Ethical Basis of Isocratean Rhetoric,” PP 24 (1969): 321– 48; Erika Rummel, “Isocrates’ Ideal of Rhetoric: Criteria of Evaluation,” CJ 75 (1979): 23– 35; and now Schiappa, The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, 170– 74. 87. In antiquity, Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Isocrates 4) concurs that Isocrates’ work had a civic as well as an individual aim. P. Cloch´e (Isocrate et son temps [Paris: Belles Lettres, 1963], 19) brings out the fact that for Isocrates, social virtues are inseparable from individual virtues and are “plus hautes et plus pr´ecieuses encore”; see now also Schiappa, The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, 174– 80. Too (The Rhetoric of Identity in Isocrates) argues that Isocrates’ writings and his pedagogy focus exclusively on civic identity, which causes her to overlook his other interests, especially those in the sphere of political morality. 88. Cf. Jaeger, Paideia 3:105. 89. On the relevance of Isocrates’ thought to contemporary pragmatism, see Edward Schiappa, “Isocrates’ philosophia and Contemporary Pragmatism,” in Rhetoric, Sophistry, Pragmatism,

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urges his readers to practice various combinations of moral virtues, less for their own sakes than because those who do will gain the advantage over others and achieve success in public life (8.31– 35, 63, 15.281– 82, 12.185– 87, 14.39; cf. 12.30– 32). Isocrates’ own political views appear equally pragmatic. While a staunch defender of the achievements of the Athenian democracy in speeches intended to showcase Athens’s glory (esp. Panegyricus and Panathenaicus), he paints a less rosy picture in the Peace and in the Antidosis (15.316– 19), where he demonstrates that imperialism based on the desire for material benefit leads to decadence and disaster;90 the differing viewpoints expressed in his speeches reflect their different contexts.91 Although the conservatism of Isocrates’ own political views can be discerned from his corpus, he was careful to avoid open advocation of oligarchy (a prudent decision in fourthcentury Athens, after the disastrous oligarchic revolutions of 411 and 404);92 Yun Lee Too is convincing in her recent argument that Isocrates appropriates democratic language while attempting to replace it with an ideology of oligarchic elitism.93 Unlike other Athenian conservatives, however, Isocrates remained convinced of Athens’ superiority and was never attracted to the Spartan way of life, with its lack of cultural achievement (esp. 12.202– 229). For pragmatic and practical reasons, his paideia overtly endorsed no specific political faction; note also that he, in his lengthy exposition of the services of Timotheus to the Athenian people (15.101– 39), praises him for his moral leadership rather than his politics. Isocrates’ pragmatism introduces a marked duality, visible throughout his corpus, between urging moral action for others’ benefit and as a means of achieving personal success. This duality is best revealed by an examination of the Evagoras.94 Isocrates states that when Evagoras took over the throne at Salamis, the city was in a state of barbarism, was neither hospitable to the ed. Stephen Mailloux, Literature, Culture, Theory 15 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 33– 60, esp. 41– 48, and The Beginnings of Rhetorical Theory, 180– 84. 90. See James Davidson, “Isocrates against Imperialsm: An Analysis of the De Pace,” Historia 39 (1990): 20– 36. 91. Which is not to say that he did not intend them seriously on any level, pace Phillip Harding, “The Purpose of Isokrates’ Archidamus and On the Peace,” CSCA 6 (1973): 137– 49 at 138– 40. 92. See now Josiah Ober, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens: Intellectual Critics of Popular Rule (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), 248– 89. 93. Yun Lee Too, The Rhetoric of Identity in Isocrates. 94. Cf. Stephen Halliwell, “Traditional Conceptions of Character,” in Characterization and Individuality in Greek Literature, ed. Christopher Pelling (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), 32– 59.

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 Greeks nor versed in the crafts (τεχναι), and did not possess either a trading post or a harbor (9.47). He extended his civilizing mission to the hostile inhabitants of the surrounding region (9.49), led them toward mildness   and moderation (ε π ι πραοτητα κα ι µετριοτητα), and succeeded in hellenizing and educating them as well as the inhabitants of his native city (9.66– 67). There is no archaeological evidence for this alleged state of barbarism, and no decline in the arts or material culture of Salamis or Cyprus can be observed during this period of Phoenician occupation.95 Here Isocrates invents a state of barbarism in order to employ the topoi used to describe stereotypical barbarians since Homer’s description of the Cyclopes in the Odyssey; not only do they lack the technological skills of the Greeks, but they are positively uncivilized in that they do not obey the traditional Greek nomos of hospitality to strangers. Using the topoi of Greek Kulturgeschichte,96 Isocrates presents Evagoras as a culture-hero, who not only raises the Cyprians and their neighbors out of a primitive state of savagery but also endows them with all the technai. If we look closely, however, we see that Isocrates has a specific purpose in mind with these references to the topoi of Kulturgeschichte, namely, to justify Evagoras’s seizure of the throne at Salamis and conquest of the surrounding regions. In fact, if one strips away the veneer of Evagoras’s alleged civilizing missions, his naked imperialism stands revealed. It is instructive to compare with these passages another, better-known account of the rise of civilization from the Panegyricus (4.28– 50), where Isocrates attributes to Athens the role of culture bringer. The stated purpose of this discussion is to establish Athens’s right to be the leader of a panhellenic expedition against the barbarians, that is, the Persians. As such, its purpose is doubly imperialistic; not only is Athens to have hegemony over the other Greeks, but to conquer the Persians under the guise of hellenizing them.97 Both the text and the subtext are very similar indeed to the presentation of Evagoras as a culture-hero. By using Evagoras as an example, Isocrates demonstrates that the most successful acts of imperialism are those that are disguised with altruistic motives. 95. F. G. Maier, “Cyprus and Phoenicia,” in The Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 6, 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 297– 336, at 309– 12. 96. Cole, Democritus and the Sources of Greek Anthropology, esp. 47– 59. 97. Cf. Georges Mathieu, Les id´ees politiques d’Isocrate (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1925), 58– 59: “. . . l’hell´enisme e´ tait avant tout une forme de civilisation fond´ee sur la raison, mais seuls les Hell`enes e´ taient aptes a` recevoir cette civilisation. En cons´equence, Isocrate ne songe qu’`a l’asservissement des barbares . . .”

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How is it possible to reconcile this Machiavellian view of statesmanship with Isocrates’ stated aim in the Evagoras of holding up its subjects, embodiment of the moral virtues, as a paradeigma of the proper sort of behavior of the ideal ruler? A possible answer can be found in the proemium to the To Nicocles, which may be meant to serve as the introduction to all the Cyprian orations.98 Here Isocrates states that the successful exhortation of a ruler to virtue brings practical benefits for all, for his rule is thereby made more    secure (ασφαλεστ ερα) for him and milder (πραοτερα) for his subjects (2.8). Of course, it is impossible to tell whether Isocrates’ insistence upon practical rewards arises from cynical pragmatism or from the realization that arguments for utility were needed for his exhortations to virtue to be successful. Although he wrote no historical works, Isocrates did use historical examples in many of his orations. As he says in his advice to the Cyprian prince Nicocles, it is by remembering the past that one can take better counsel for the future (2.35; cf. 1.34, 2.35, 4.141, 6.59). While this statement is reminiscent of Thucydides (1.22.4), Isocrates intends the lessons to be learned from the past to be more explicitly moral.99 While events of the past can and do serve as moral instruction, they do not always teach the same lesson. As Isocrates states in the Panegyricus, it is the mark of the good orator to be able to select material from the past to suit his purpose at the appropriate time (4.9). In the Panathenaicus (12.246), he puts into the mouth of an unnamed pupil the characterization of that work as “replete with history and philosophy, filled with every kind of elaboration and fiction (ψευδολογι α).” He then hastily adds, lest anyone get the wrong idea of what he means by fiction, “not the kind which normally harms one’s fellow-citizens, when used incorrectly, but the kind which through proper education can benefit or give pleasure to one’s audience.” As C. Bradford Welles remarks, “this is the useful lie, which Plato allows his rulers: an invented story which is morally true and pedagogically useful.”100 While it is possible to dismiss this passage as not 98. As suggested by Eucken, Isokrates, 216. 99. On Isocrates’ use of history, see C. Bradford Welles, “Isocrates’ View of History,” in The Classical Tradition. Literary and Historical Studies in Honor of Harry Caplan, ed. Luitpold Wallach (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966), 3– 25; C. H. Wilson, “Thucydides, Isocrates, and the Athenian Empire,” G&R 13 (1966): 54– 63; and Charles D. Hamilton, “Greek Rhetoric and History: The Case of Isocrates,” in Arktouros: Hellenic Studies Presented to Bernard M. W. Knox, ed. Glen W. Bowersock, Walter Burkert, and Michael C. J. Putnam (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1979), 291– 98. 100. “Isocrates’ View of History,” 15.

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being Isocrates’ own thought (cf. 12.1), he does state elsewhere that he provides examples (both historical and mythical) of virtue in the express desire that his audience take them as models for their own behavior (12.136– 37 and 5.113).101 Isocrates, it seems, claims manipulation of historical events is justified, provided that it is for the moral education (or the entertainment,102 which is perhaps not entirely separate from education) of his audience.103 Because many of the standard topoi used in historical examples involve the moral superiority of Athens, it should not occasion surprise that Isocrates found them fertile terrain for his purpose of improving his audience. The lessons of the past provide instruction as to how the best sort of citizen should act, but the same historical event can furnish different lessons at different times, in the best tradition of rhetoric. Despite his professed disagreement with the sophists’ exclusion of political morality from their instruction in rhetorical techniques, Isocrates did ensure that rhetoric (as he understood it) henceforth formed the most important component of higher education.104 This coupling of rhetorical techniques with the reader’s moral instruction in political virtues and the art of statesmanship is present throughout the historical works of both Ephorus and Theopompus, although it is manifested differently in each writer. Ironically, the best-documented piece of information preserved about Ephorus (FGrHist 70 TT 1, 2a, 3, 4, 5, 8, 24, 27, and 28) and Theopompus (FGrHist 115 TT 1, 5a, 5b, 6b, 20, 24, 38, and 39 and F 345), that they were pupils of Isocrates, has proved the most controversial. At the beginning of this century, E. Schwartz was the first to voice skepticism about the traditional teacher/pupil relationship between Isocrates 101. Papillon, “Isocrates on Gorgias and Helen.” 102. Phillip Harding (“Laughing at Isokrates: Humour in the Areopagitikos?” LCM 13 [1988]: 18– 23, and “Comedy and Rhetoric,” in Persuasion, 196– 221, at 206– 9) suggests that Isocrates uses comic devices in the Areopagiticus to parody the popular notion that the past is better than the present. Nevertheless, the presence of some humorous elements should not be taken to exclude any serious purpose in the work. 103. Daniel Gillis (“Isocrates’ Panegyricus: The Rhetorical Structure,” WS 84 n.s., 5 [1971]: 52– 73, esp. 55); but cf. Wilson, “Thucydides, Isocrates, and the Athenian Empire,” 59; and Norman H. Baynes, “Isocrates,” in Byzantine Studies and Other Essays (London: Athlone, 1960), 144– 67. 104. Cf., e.g., H. I. Marrou, A History of Education in Antiquity, trans. George Lamb (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1956), 79– 91; and M. I. Finley, “The Heritage of Isocrates,” Knowledge for What? (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1972); reprint, The Use and Abuse of History (London: Chatto & Windus, 1975), 193– 214, esp. 198– 99.

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and both Ephorus and Theopompus.105 Although, with the exception of Jacoby,106 it was not widely accepted at first,107 this view has recently gained ground.108 It is important, however, not to overlook the evidence that Ephorus had some rhetorical training,109 as did Theopompus, who claimed to have written a prodigious number of epideictic speeches (no less than 20,000 lines, by his own reckoning), some of which are preserved by a fragmentary book list from Rhodes (FGrHist 115 T 48),110 and to have delivered orations all over the Greek world (FGrHist 115 F 25).111 It is a reasonable assumption that both Ephorus and Theopompus, with their interest in rhetoric, would turn to Isocrates’ school (rather than, say, Plato’s Academy), where rhetoric was the focus of the curriculum. Moreover, Isocrates’ sojourn on Chios in the 390s, where he opened a small school, attested by Pseudo-Plutarch (Vit. X Or.⫽Mor. 837b– c),112 lends further credence to the tradition, for even if Theopompus was not yet alive (or was very young) at the time, Isocrates’ reputation and Chian connections would have made him a natural choice as instructor. Although he did not write historical works, Isocrates did use examples from the past to provide moral instruction, as we have seen. Therefore, there is no reason to doubt the tradition that his pupils included historians as well as orators and politicians. Nevertheless, even if we posit a direct teacher/pupil relationship between Isocrates and both Ephorus and Theopompus, we must still be skeptical in assigning Isocrates’ political views in toto to the historians. As we shall see, both Ephorus and Theopompus had definite political views that owe little to their erstwhile teacher. Isocrates’ insistence that there should be a moral basis to political life and that examples from the past could 105. E. Schwartz, “Ephoros,” RE 6.1 (1907), 1– 2. 106. FGrHist IIC, 22– 23. 107. See, e.g., the objections of G. L. Barber, The Historian Ephorus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1935; reprint, Chicago: Ares, 1995), 3– 4. 108. See, e.g., Michael Attyah Flower, Theopompus of Chios: History and Rhetoric in the Fourth Century BC (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), 42– 62. 109. Cicero (Orator 191⫽FGrHist 70 T 29) describes Ephorus as “himself a smooth orator with the very best training” (levis ipse orator et profectus ex optima disciplina). 110. The titles of these works indicate a certain Isocratean influence, for they include a Panathenaicus and a Philippus (partially restored). 111. One occasion was the funeral oration contest over Mausolus in 352 (FGrHist 115 TT 6 and 48), in which Theopompus boasts that he defeated Isocartes (F 345). 112. On the probable veracity of this tradition, see Slobodan Duˇsani´c, “Isocrates, the Chian Intellectuals, and the Political Context of the Euthydemus,” JHS 119 (1999): 1– 16, at 2.

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provide instruction was a legacy to both Ephorus and Theopompus, although his influence is manifested in different ways in the two historians.113 By the end of the fifth century, traditional moral values suffered a sustained attack on the intellectual level by both the sophists and Socrates, who called them into question, and simultaneously on the popular level by the disintegration of moral standards as a result of prolonged war and hardship. For the opportunistic, the techniques of rhetoric taught by the sophists offered a crash course in political success and often replaced the traditional morality of the poets in the instruction of those about to enter political life. (In the Clouds, Aristophanes parodies the clash between the old and the new systems of education.) Naturally, however, the moral virtues that would be persuasive to large audiences are not those that would appeal to the elite. It is natural, therefore, that intellectuals such as the author of the Anonymus Iamblichi, Socrates, and Isocrates equate the rhetorical techniques of the sophists with immoralism. All three of these intellectuals set themselves firmly in opposition to the teaching of rhetorical techniques for the purpose of political success without sufficient concern for the moral virtues that the educated elite must possess. While Socrates looks for true virtue in the process of clearing away false definitions, the author of the Anonymous Iamblichi and Isocrates are satisfied with practical political morality, as it was commonly understood. The influence of Socrates and Isocrates in particular results in a greater emphasis upon the instruction of political virtue in the interpretation of the past by fourth-century prose writers. As a result, the moral and didactic elements implicit in Herodotus and Thucydides become overt and the primary focus of the historical works of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus. Before turning to the historians themselves, however, it would be helpful to determine more precisely what the most important contemporary moral virtues were for the educated, literate elite of the fourth century, the intended readership of our historians, as well as Plato and Isocrates. For the period prior to ca. 425, the surviving literature firmly enshrines traditional, 113. For other recent defenses of the pupil-teacher tradition, see Gordon S. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1991), 9– 10; and L. J. Sanders, “Theopompus and the Dionysian Empire,” EMC/CV n.s., 14 (1995): 337– 53, at 350 n. 35, although the latter is not convincing in his further argument that Isocrates exerted a political influence on both writers. Others have expressed skepticism about a direct relationship, but concede a profound influence of Isocrates upon Ephorus and Theopompus; see esp. Kenneth S. Sacks, Diodorus and the First Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 25– 26; and Diethard Nickel, “Isokrates und die Geschichtsschreibung des 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr.,” Philologus 135 (1991): 233– 39.

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aristocratic values, although there do of course exist differences in emphasis between authors. In a process beginning in the last quarter of the fifth century and continuing through the first three quarters of the fourth, the traditional aristocratic virtues of the early poets metamorphose into the civic virtues of the Athenian democracy, as we learn from comedy, oratory, and inscriptions,114 sources designed to play up to the masses. The Athenian democracy appropriates many of the aristocratic moral virtues but gives them a more explicitly civic (i.e., democratic) connotation.115 The changes in the traditional conception of virtue, however, are much more complex and multifaceted than the overly schematic hypothesis of Arthur Adkins, that the self-interested “competitive” virtues exemplified by Homer were replaced during the fourth century by “quiet” or “co-operative” virtues.116 Moreover, this sort of evidence is not particularly useful for us, as Plato, Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus were aristocrats and, as we shall see, were not favorably disposed toward the Athenian democracy. More useful for our purposes is a group of fourth-century prose writers, who represent a level somewhere in between popular morality and moral philosophy, and aim at the literate, aristocratic elite. This group, represented by works such as the Evagoras of Isocrates, the Agesilaus and Cyropaedia of Xenophon, and the Alcibiades, begins to replace the traditional role of the poets in the moral education of the elite.117 Moreover, in these works we find a trend toward the listing and definition of moral virtues (a trend culminating, perhaps, in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics). An identification of which moral virtues were considered important by the target audience will be very useful in situating the discussions of Plato, Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus, for it will be possible to determine for each writer which of the virtues that he is praising is a standard contemporary virtue among his peers, and which is peculiar to him alone. In this 114. These are the main sources for K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1974). 115. David Whitehead, “Cardinal Virtues: The Language of Public Approbation in Democratic Athens,” ClMed 44 (1993) 37– 75; cf. Josiah Ober, Mass and Elite in Democratic Athens: Rhetoric, Ideology, and the Power of the People (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), esp. 251– 60. 116. Arthur W. H. Adkins, Merit and Responsibility: A Study in Greek Value (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960). On the limitations of the lexical approach, see Hugh Lloyd-Jones, The Justice of Zeus, Sather Classical Lectures 41 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1971; rev. ed. 1983), 2– 3 and 158; and Dover, Greek Popular Morality, 46– 50. 117. Of course, performed poetry continued its paideutic function for the Athenian collective; see Jon Hesk, Deception and Democracy in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 176 n. 105 and the references contained there.

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way, we shall be able to see how the individual moral interests of each influence the way in which he interprets the past, which will also serve to explain the differences between their works. This trend toward the listing and definition of moral virtues aimed at the educated elite arises perhaps on the one hand from the reevaluation of the traditional moral virtues by the sophists and other intellectuals, such as Socrates and the author of the Anonymus Iamblichi, and on the other hand from the dissatisfaction of the aristocracy with both the policies and the values of the Athenian democracy, particularly after the failed oligarchic experiments of the final years of the fifth century made it unlikely, for the foreseeable future at least, that an oligarchical government would come to power in Athens. It is also probable that both Gorgias, who apparently preferred to enumerate the individual virtues rather than to make a general definition (Aristotle, Politics 1260a⫽DK 82 B 18; cf. Plato, Meno 71d– 72a⫽DK 82 B 19), and Socrates, whose insistence upon general, fixed definitions of moral virtues is well attested, exerted a certain amount of influence. In the first half of the fourth century, the attributes for which it was reasonable to praise others include not only those, such as lineage and physical beauty that have little or nothing to do with the acts of their possessor but also others, such as piety, justice, moderation, and wisdom, (which is admittedly a more difficult case, as it is an intellectual excellence that can be directed either to good or bad ends) which are more dependent upon a moral choice made by the agent. Although there appear to be some early attempts to list and group moral virtues in Pindar and tragedy,118 it is not until Plato that we find an attempt at systematization. Even in Plato, the grouping of moral virtues appears to have been fairly fluid. He generally fixes the number of virtues  ετη)  that constitute excellence (αρ at four (although the number is some times three or five): wisdom (σοφι α), courage (ανδρε ι α), self-control 119 120   (σωφροσυνη), and justice (δικαιοσυνη). In some of the earlier dia logues, piety (οσιοτης) is included,121 but it eventually drops out of the list, because for Plato piety has become subsumed into justice, that part 118. Pindar, Isthmian 8.24– 28; Aeschylus, Septem contra Thebas 610; and Euripides fr. 282; see Helen North, “Pindar, Isthmian, 8, 24– 28,” AJP 69 (1948): 304– 8. 119. On the evolution of this loaded term, see the thorough analysis of Helen North, Sophrosyne: Self-Knowledge and Self-Restraint in Greek Literature, Cornell Studies in Classical Philology 25 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966). 120. Laches 199d, Protagoras 329c, 330b, 349b, Gorgias 507c, Meno 78d, Phaedo 69c, Republic 427e, Laws 631c– d. 121. Laches 199d, Protagoras 329c, Gorgias 507c, Meno 78d.

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which is overseen by the gods.122 Interestingly, in the Symposium, Agathon lists and defines this same grouping of four virtues (194e– 97e). Clearly, this self-important and pretentious speech is not intended to be taken seriously, but it does confirm that Plato’s grouping of the most important moral virtues in his other dialogues would not have been alien to his literate, upper-class readership in the fourth century. Despite Plato’s apparent formalization of the moral virtues that make   his fourfold scheme did not become immediup excellence (αρετ η), ately normative or even current in fourth-century writers.123 Instead, other fourth-century prose writers tend to pick and choose from among these virtues to highlight those that are most useful for their present purposes, often linking them to other virtues, not all of which could be considered precisely moral in their import. This relativity, however, is due not so much to the influence of the sophists but rather to the nature of Greek morality in general, which was based on degree rather than absolutes.124 Isocrates, in his encomium of Evagoras of Cyprus, exemplifies this tendency. Despite his stated rivalry with the poets (9.9– 11), he goes to great pains to adapt the poetic praise tradition to fit the new conditions of the fourth century and his own moral and educational aims.125 Like Pindar, he attempts to provide an ethical model (παραδειγµα) for future generations to follow, but his Evagoras serves a narrower didactic purpose, as an example of the moral behavior, in both political and military affairs, of the ideal leader, although, as we have seen, he also uses the Cypriote as a justification for naked imperialism. He praises his subject  first for his modesty (σωφροσυνη) as a child (9.22), to which were added   courage (ανδρ ι α), wisdom (σοφι α), and justice (δικαιοσυνη) when he became an adult (9.23). Isocrates takes great pains to emphasize that through the foresight of the divinity (ο δαι µων), Evagoras was able to obtain possession of the throne piously and justly (οσι ως κα ι δικαι ως), 122. See Albrecht Dihle, Der Kanon der zwei Tugenden (Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1968), esp. 15– 23. For arguments against Dover’s putative fourth-century tendency to equate piety with virtue (Greek Popular Morality, 66– 67), see Arthur W. H. Adkins, “Problems in Greek Popular Morality,” CP 73 (1978): 143– 58, at 153– 54. 123. John Ferguson, Moral Values in the Ancient World (London: Methuen, 1958), 27. 124. So James N. Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of Contemporary Athens (New York: St. Martin’s, 1997), esp. 207– 8. 125. William H. Race, “Pindaric Encomium and Isokrates’ Evagoras,” TAPA 117 (1987): 131– 55. See now also Terry Papillon, “Isocrates and the Greek Poetic Tradition,” Scholia n.s., 7 (1998): 41– 61.

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while any action that involved impiety was left for someone else to carry out (9.25– 26).126 While the evaluation of character in terms of the possession or the lack of moral virtues is a typically Greek conception,127 Isocrates brings a new element to the listing of these virtues, for, instead of defining them, he illustrates them with Evagoras’s deeds in the subsequent narrative. Here, however, he moves away from a fourfold scheme of the virtues, and rather groups them at will, for he pairs justice and piety (9.26 and 38) on two
 occasions, and piety and humanity (θεοφιλως κα ι φιλανθρωπως) on another (9.43). He occasionally switches to a tripartite scheme, probably for its pleasing rhetorical effect, when he emphasizes the nobility, splendor, and piety of Evagoras’s actions (9.39) in one place, and his courage      (ανδρ ι α), wisdom (φρονησις), and general excellence (συµπασα αρετ η) in another (9.65). Instead of Plato’s systematic grouping of the virtues, we find Isocrates using some of these same virtues where, as he conceived it, the situation demanded. Moreover, he explicitly appeals to Evagoras’s  deeds as “proofs” (9:51 and 58: τεκµηριον), one of the standard techniques of rhetoric. In short, Isocrates’ use of the moral virtues is more similar to the techniques of rhetoric than to moral philosophy. In his encomium of the Spartan king Agesilaus, Xenophon combines the method of Plato’s Agathon in the Symposium, where the virtues of the addressee are listed and defined, and that of Isocrates in the Evagoras, where the monarch’s virtues are shown through his actions. Xenophon begins the Agesilaus, intended, like the Evagoras, as an ethical model (10.2: παραδειγµα), with a description of his subject’s deeds (1.6– 2.31), with the explanation that these will best illustrate his character (1.6). As one might expect from a military leader—and a Spartan, at that—the virtues of piety (1.10– 12, 1.34, 2.13, 2.15, 2.17) and courage (2.12) are promi nent. Nevertheless, virtues such as mildness (πραοτης) and humanity (φιλανθρωπι α) also appear (1.20– 23); these are also key words in Isocrates’ portrayal of Evagoras, as is humanity (φιλανθρωπι α) in Xenophon’s portrayal of Cyrus in the Cyropaedia (1.2.1).128 126. Pace North, Sophrosyne, 147, who argues that the absence of piety from the list is “remarkable.” Piety, defined as both sacrificing and keeping oaths (1.13), is also found in   close association with justice (δικαιοσυνη), self-control (σωφροσυνη), and wisdom (σοφι α) in the To Demonicus (1.15– 19) and with justice in the To Nicocles (2.20). 127. Halliwell, “Traditional Conceptions of Character,” 49– 50. 128. “with respect to his soul, he was most humane, learned, and fond of honor”  

δ ε φιλανθρωποτατος  (ψυχ ην κα ι φιλαµαθεστατος κα ι φιλοτιµοτατος); see Hans Rudolf Breitenbach, “Xenophon,” RE 9A (1967), 1719.

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Following this survey of Agesilaus’s deeds, Xenophon turns to a catalogue of his virtue, in which he describes each one and gives an example from Agesilaus’s life to illustrate it (3.1– 9.7). He begins with Agesilaus’s  εβεια),  piety (ευσ which he demonstrates only in terms of his trustworthiness in keeping oaths and treaties (3). Next comes praise of Agesilaus’s  justice (δικαιοσυνη), which is limited to money matters (4). Under this heading, Xenophon praises him for his honesty, generosity, self-control   (σωφροσυνη), and freedom from sordid gain (α ι σχροκερδεια). He then  turns to Agesilaus’s temperance (σωφροσυνη), which is revealed by his self-control (ε γκρατεια) in wine, food, and sleep, his ability to endure greater hardships and toils than his soldiers (καρτερι α), and his ability to master himself in pleasures of the flesh (5). His courage is illustrated not only by his success in campaigns against the strongest enemies, in which he placed himself in the vanguard of the struggle, but also by his ability to win campaigns without a battle, which brings victory with both less risk and more profit (6.1– 3).129 Finally, his wisdom (σοφι α) is shown by his ability to inspire loyalty in his fellow citizens, friends, and troops, and respect and fear in his enemies by his judicious use of deception (6.4– 8).130 Following an assessment of Agesilaus’s nonmoral virtues (7– 9), the final section of the encomium consists of a summary (with a mixture of moral and nonmoral virtues), in order, as Xenophon claims, that his praise may be more easy to remember (11.1– 16).131 It is probably for this reason that this section is the most rhetorical in style, and some scholars have seen a close similarity to Isocrates’ Evagoras (9.41– 46).132 Now, Xenophon gives further details of Agesilaus’s virtues, but without using relevant examples from his hero’s life. In this summarizing section, for example, he does not extol piety specifically, but he does put at the head of the list of Agesilaus’s virtues his reverence of sanctuaries (even those of enemies), his proper treatment of suppliants of the gods (again, even enemies), and his concern for righteous deeds and for proper religious observance (11.1– 2); 129. For the combination of valor and skill implicit in military bravery, see Dover, Greek Popular Morality, 161– 67. 130. See Breitenbach, “Xenophon,” 1706. 131. For a defense of the authenticity of this section and its paraenetic function, see D. Kr omer, ¨ “Xenophons Agesilaos. Untersuchungen zur Komposition” (diss., Berlin, 1971) (non vidi) which I know through Rainer Nickel, Xenophon (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1979), 54– 56. 132. See, e.g., Ivo Bruns, Das literarische Portr¨at der Griechen im f¨ unften und vierten Jahrhundert vor Christi Geburt (Berlin: Wilhelm Hertz, 1896), 126– 37.

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in the previous section on piety (3), as we have seen, Xenophon mentions only Agesilaus’s respect for oaths. Although Xenophon centers his praise on Agesilaus’s conformation to the same moral virtues that Plato grouped together, he puts a more specifically military and political focus upon their definitions. This can be explained by the subject matter of the Agesilaus; at the end of the Memorabilia, Xenophon sums up Socrates’ virtues, describing him as pious, just, self-controlled, and wise (courage is not mentioned), but defines these virtues in much more general (conventional?) terms (4.8.11). With the Cyropaedia, however, he returns to the theme of the ideal ruler who is to set an example of moral virtue for his subjects. Therefore, Xenophon sums up Cyrus’s virtues as piety, which is manifested by his maintenance of religious observance, justice in his relations with friends and allies, his concern  in others by his avoidance of to instill a proper sense of shame (α ι δ ως) saying or doing anything shameful, his ability to inspire obedience, and his  self-control (σω␸ροσυνη) in his avoidance of wanton behavior (8.1.23– 33; cf. 1.2.6– 8); courage is conspicuous by its absence. Possibly, courage is a more acceptable virtue for a Spartan king than for a Persian ruler, at least in the eyes of Xenophon’s potential readership. Like Isocrates, Xenophon is willing to toy with both his groupings of the moral virtues and their definitions to fit the context of his individual works. A later fourth-century attempt to provide a guide to virtuous conduct for the aspiring statesman is that of [Plato’s] Alcibiades.133 The great central speech offered by Socrates to Alcibiades in praise of the Persian and Spartan kings (121a– 124b) is particularly useful for our purposes, because, like Agathon’s speech in the Symposium, it uses the standard features of encomia to extol its subjects in very conventional terms. It is especially noteworthy that the Persian prince is to be taught by four tutors, each of whom is renowned for his excellence in one of the four moral virtues grouped together by Plato, that is, the wisest, the justest, the most self-controlled,   and the bravest (121e: ο τε σοφωτατος κα ι ο δικαιοτατος κα ι ο    σωφρονεστατος κα ι ο ανδρει οτατος). The task of the wisest one is to 133. That is, the work which is often referred to as the Greater Alcibiades, although the MSS are unanimous in calling it the Alcibiades. There seems to be general consensus that this dialogue, although unlikely to be the work of Plato himself, is probably by a follower (see the sensible remarks of A. E. Taylor, Plato: The Man and His Work, 7th ed. [London: Methuen: 1960], 12– 13). R. S. Bluck (“The Origin of the Greater Alcibiades,” CQ 47 [1953]: 46– 52) and Cornelius Anton Bos (Interpretatie vaderschap en datering van de Alcibiades Maior [Culemborg: Tjeenk Willink-Noorduijn, 1970], English summary 113– 17) suggest a date in the 340s.

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teach him about the worship of the Persian gods and the duties of a king (τα βασιλικα); in this way, the author of the Alcibiades conflates the moral virtues of wisdom and piety. The justest one is to teach him to tell the truth throughout his whole life; the most self-controlled one must instruct him how not to be ruled by even a single pleasure, in order that he may become accustomed to be a free man and truly a king, being master and not slave to that which is in himself. Finally, the bravest is to teach him to be fearless, since to be afraid is to be a slave (122a). This description of the upbringing of the Persian king is conventional not only in its use of these four virtues, but also in its definition of what they entail (note particularly the stereotypically oriental despot/slave dichotomy), especially when compared with other (Greek) sources for the Persian education system, namely Herodotus (1.136.2) and Xenophon (Cyropaedia, 1.2.6– 13). Likewise, the casting of the nation in rigid stereotypes underlies the recitation of the virtues of the Spartans. In a single sentence (122c), the author of the Alcibiades praises the Spartans for various virtues, both moral and nonmoral. These virtues are not defined, but it is clear that the author  has combined the moral virtues of self-control (σωρφροσυνη) and courage   (ανδρε ι α) with others, such as order (κοσµιοτης) and good discipline  (ευταξ ι α), which are characteristic of the Spartans, with their notoriously regimented lifestyle. Both wisdom and justice are absent, perhaps as a result of the stereotypical Athenian conception of the Spartans, but one wonders why piety is not part of the list, given that the Spartans were particularly assiduous in their observance of religious scruples.134 In any case, Alcibiades must be properly educated in the same virtues as these traditional opponents of Athens if he is going to prevail over them and exercise the best possible rule over the city. Thus, like Isocrates in the Evagoras and Xenophon in the Agesilaus, the author of the Alcibiades uses his conception of the standard aristocratic virtues of the day as a point of departure for future political leaders. An important development in the fourth century is the increasing trend toward the listing and describing of the moral virtues. This trend occurs not only in the philosophical works of Plato and later in Aristotle (whose writings would not have been available to our historians), but also in works intended to provide moral guidance to the elite. It is especially noteworthy that the authors of these works choose kings (Spartan and Persian) to 134. See A. J. Holladay and M. D. Goodman, “Religious Scruples in Ancient Warfare,” CQ n.s., 36 (1986): 151– 71, esp. 152– 60.

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illustrate the moral virtues that must be emulated, and not the common citizen often held up as the exemplar in inscriptions, oratory, and comedy. Just as the questioning of traditional moral virtues by the sophists can be turned into arguments of expediency, so too can these lists and descriptions, in that each fourth-century prose writer can choose not only which moral virtues to highlight but even what spin to put on them to make his point most effectively. Thus, by the middle of the fourth century, the new evaluations of actions that Thucydides had criticized so effectively only half a century before (3.82.4) are no longer limited to times of great civil strife, but have become commonplace.

chapter two

The Menexenus: Plato’s Critique of Political Rhetoric


O

ne of the characteristic features of Attic oratory is the frequent appeal to the historical example as a means of winning over the audience to the speaker’s point of view. Because the chief motivation for its use is persuasion,1 the orators tend to render events according to popular tradition (even when it is clearly inaccurate) in order not to strike a discordant note with their audience and risk losing its good will.2 Similarly, the orators often give excessively simplified or even inaccurate versions of historical events in a desire not to appear more learned than their audience.3 In 1. See, e.g., Ian Worthington, “History and Oratorical Exploitation,” in Persuasion: Greek Rhetoric in Action, ed. Ian Worthington (London: Routledge, 1994), 109– 29, at 109– 10. 2. P. Harding, “Rhetoric and Politics in Fourth-Century Athens,” Phoenix 41 (1987): 25– 39, at 28– 29: “Ancient oratory, like ancient comedy, was a popular medium. The one attempted to entertain, the other to convince the majority of the Athenians. In both, the level of appeal was to popular opinion and popular prejudice.” See also K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1974), 11– 14. 3. On the efforts made by the orators to conform to the expectations of their audiences, see the (still) important observations of Lionel Pearson, “Historical Allusions in the Attic Orators,” CP 36 (1941): 209– 29; see also Josiah Ober, Mass and Elite in Democratic Athens: Rhetoric, Ideology, and the Power of the People (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989),

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general, the orators are usually more concerned with a given historical example’s relevance to their argument than with Thucydidean akribeia.4 While much attention has been paid to the historical inaccuracies contained in the speeches of the Attic orators,5 I examine what sorts of misleading or false information the orators provide and the reaction of Plato against the Athenian orators’ misuse of the historical example in service to a democratic agenda in his critique of contemporary rhetoric and politics, the Menexenus. Although speakers in Herodotus and Thucydides do make some historical allusions,6 we have little other evidence in the extant record for the use of arguments drawn from history until Attic oratory begins to flourish in the fourth century. It is worth noting that all of our texts date from 420 to 320, all (except Isocrates 19) were written for an Athenian audience, and the speakers are generally from the social elite,7 although to a great extent their success depends on their ability to downplay their social status and present themselves as members of the masses.8 It is tempting to argue that rhetoric, with its emphasis on plausibility and persuasion over truth and its frequent use of commonplaces and examples, exerted an influence on Attic oratory by the end of the fifth century, although the dearth of extant oratory prior to this time will not allow any definite conclusions. Some orators, particularly the authors of funeral orations and panegyrics,9 refer to the legendary history of Athens. Although the orators 43– 44; and Josiah Ober and Barry Strauss, “Drama, Political Rhetoric, and the Discourse of Athenian Democracy,” in Nothing to Do with Dionysus?: Athenian Drama in Its Social Context, ed. John J. Winkler and Froma I. Zeitlin (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 237– 70, at 238– 39. 4. S. Perlman, “The Historical Example, Its Use and Importance as Political Propaganda in the Attic Orators,” SH 7 (1961): 150– 66, esp. 155– 56. 5. See now Ian Worthington, “Greek Oratory, Revision of Speeches and the Problem of Historical Reliability,” ClMed 42 (1991): 55– 74, and “History and Oratorical Exploitation,” 109– 29 (with earlier bibliography). 6. On the use of the historical example in the fifth century, see H. Lamar Crosby, “Athenian History and the Athenian Public,” in Classical Studies Presented to Edward Capps (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1936), 72– 85, and Michel Nouhaud, L’Utilisation de l’histoire par les orateurs attiques (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1982), 30– 43. 7. Stephen Todd, “The Use and Abuse of the Attic Orators,” G&R 37 (1990): 159– 78, at 168. 8. Ober, Mass and Elite, esp. 190– 91. 9. Although the authenticity of some of these speeches is in question, I have left them under the name of the author in whose corpus they appear on the grounds that whether or not they are the work of that author, they are nevertheless representative of late fifth- and fourth-century oratory.

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themselves were probably aware of the historical unreliability of the mythological tradition, they mined it for historical examples in full knowledge that their audience liked to hear the traditional stories.10 In effect the more influential of these speeches played a large part in creating the official Athenian democratic tradition of the past.11 The orators tend to refer to four specific mythological examples; they involve either Athens’s prowess in war against foreign invaders (Amazons and Eumolpus) or altruistic actions in aid of the weak and oppressed (refuge to the Heracleidae and intercession with the Thebans on Adrastus’s behalf ),12 which themes prefigure the Athenians’ presentation of their own accomplishments during the Persian Wars. Nevertheless, when expedient, the orators are perfectly willing to throw a different light on the same events.13 The main motivation behind the choice of these particular examples from the legendary past is to reveal the Athenians’ superiority, both military and moral, to the other city-states and thereby justify their desire to occupy the preeminent position in Greek affairs. The Persian Wars prove an especially fertile topic for historical examples in the Attic orators. Not surprisingly, they choose to concentrate upon the two episodes that are likely to evoke the most favorable response from their audience, the famous victories at Marathon and at Salamis,14 10. See Perlman, “The Historical Example,” 158– 59. Nouhaud (L’Utilisation de l’histoire, 8 and n. 4) comments that the orators use mythological and historical examples in the same way. 11. Nicole Loraux, The Invention of Athens: The Funeral Oration in the Classical City, trans. Alan Sheridan (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986); and Rosalind Thomas, Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 196– 237. 12. Amazons: Lysias 2.4– 6; cf. Herodotus’s version of the Athenian speech before the Battle of Plataea (9.27.4); Eumolpus: Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 98– 99; both: Isocrates 4.68– 70, 6.42, 7.75, and 12.193; Demosthenes 60.8; Heracleidae: Isocrates 5.34, 6.42, and 12.194; Adrastus: Isocrates 12.168– 71; both: Lysias 2.7– 16; Isocrates 4.54– 56 and 10.31; Demosthenes 60.8; cf. the Athenian speech before Plataea in Herodotus (9.27.2– 3) and Procles’ speech in Xenophon’s Hellenica (6.5.46– 47). 13. See, for example, the different version of the Adrastus episode in Isocrates’ Panegyricus, when Athens was trying to forge better relations with Thebes, as compared to those in earlier works: 12.168– 74; cf. 4.54– 56, 10.31, 14.53. 14. Marathon: Andocides 1.107; Lysias 2.20– 26; Isocrates 4.86 (but cf. 164– 66), 7.75, and 16.27; Demosthenes 60.10; cf. Herodotus 9.27.5 and 7.10.β.1 and Thucydides 1.73.4. See K. R. Walters, “‘We Fought Alone at Marathon’: Historical Falsification in the Attic Funeral Oration,” RhM 124 (1981): 206– 11. Salamis: Lysias 2.27– 43; Isocrates 4.93– 99, 5.147, 6.42– 43, 8.43, and 12.50– 51 and 233; Demosthenes 6.11 and 18.204 (in both passages, Demosthenes transfers to Salamis incidents that Herodotus places before Plataea [Herodotus 9.5– 6]; see R. D. Milns, “Historical Paradigms in Demosthenes’ Public

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with a heavy emphasis upon the Athenians’ self-sacrifice for the benefit of the other Greeks. Although the orators adhere to the basic facts of the invasion as we know them from Herodotus, they exaggerate the role of Athens in unifying the Greek resistance and warding off the Persian invaders and downplay the contributions of other states.15 By giving this Atheno-centric version of the Persian Wars, the orators conform to the popular tradition, according to which the Athenians are the leaders (both moral and military) of the Greek forces against the Persians. By the second half of the fourth century, there was an inscription on public display in the deme of Acharnae purporting to be a transcription of the oath that the Athenians swore before the Battle of Plataea to fight the Persians bravely to the end, to punish the Thebans for medizing, and to keep safe the cities that fought against the barbarian.16 Leaving aside the question of its authenticity (for many scholars have argued that the oath is an Athenian invention designed to enhance the glory of Athens)17 it is important to notice that the inscribed version claims that the Athenians took the oath, while the literary testimonies (Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 80– 81, and Diodorus 11.29.2– 4) state that the Greeks swore before the battle. By attributing the oath to the Athenians alone, the inscription at Plataea conforms with the Athenians’ view of themselves as the ralliers of the other Greeks and the punishers of the barbarians and their sympathizers. One of the results of the Persian Wars was Athens’s acquisition of a maritime empire. Naturally, there are many reflections of the Pentecontaetia in the orators, usually in an idealized version, designed to prove that the Athenians deserve their empire. They accomplish this aim by claiming either that the allies themselves awarded Athens maritime hegemony18 or that the Athenians ruled their empire, once obtained, justly and unselfishly.19 It seems that the fourth-century orators, in accordance with the Speeches,” Electronic Antiquity 2 [1995]); Lycurgus, Against Leocrates, 68– 71; cf. Andocides 1.108. 15. The Athenian version of the Persian Wars can be seen already in Thucydides in the Athenian speech to the Peloponnesian League prior to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War (1.73– 74). 16. Peter Siewert, Der Eid von Plataiai (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1972), 5– 7. 17. On this and other alleged false documents of the fourth century, see Christian Habicht, “False Urkunden zur Geschichte Athens im Zeitalter der Perserkrieg,” Hermes 89 (1961): 1– 35; and No¨el Robertson, “False Documents at Athens: Fifth-Century History and Fourth-Century Publicists,” Historical Reflections 3 (1976): 3– 25. 18. Lysias 2.47; Isocrates 4.72, 7.17 and 80, 8.30 and 76, 16.27; cf. Demosthenes 3.24 and 13.26. Note that the role of Pausanias (Thucydides 1.96.1) is conspicuous by its absence. 19. E.g., Lysias 2.55– 57; Isocrates 4.100– 109; and Demosthenes 60.11.

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popular tradition of the fifth-century empire,20 sanitize its less appealing aspects either by giving them a moral justification or by omitting them altogether.21 One notable exception is Andocides (3.37– 38), who describes the Athenians’ acquisition of their fifth-century empire as follows (3.37): “partly by persuading the other Greeks, partly surrepticiously,

πει σαντες τους

partly by bribing them, partly by forcing them” (τα µ εν  Ελληνας, τα δ ε λαθοντες, τα δ ε πρια µενοι, τα δ ε βιασα µενοι). He is likely the exception that proves the rule, for, unlike the other orators, Andocides’ willingness to express oligarchic ideology leads him to explicit criticism of Athenian imperialism, effectively denying the demos credit for its great fifth-century achievement.22 It is perhaps surprising at first sight that the orators do not avoid altogether the events of the Peloponnesian War, a period of which the Athenians could not have been particularly proud. Instead, they use historical examples drawn from the Peloponnesian War as a source of lessons for the future and as a means of glorifying Athens, but especially because many of them or their audience had been alive during the war.23 Here we find the same techniques as in the case of the Pentecontaetia, that is, the orators give very generalized versions of the events, using either judicious omission or subtle distortion in their references to episodes unflattering to Athens, often in accordance with popular tradition. The only episode from the early years of the war to receive any real attention is the Athenian assistance given to Plataea during its siege and eventual fall, although we should note that the orators’ accounts either leave out the Athenians’ failure to carry out their promise to help (Demosthenes 59.98– 103; cf. Thucydides 2.73– 74) or mention only Athens’s later offers of refuge to the surviving Plataeans (Isocrates 4.109, 12.94, and 14.13 and 52). For the orators, the Plataean episode was probably the most easily manipulated event of the Archidamian War to fit the Athenian democratic self-image of protectors of the oppressed. The ill-fated Sicilian expedition receives some attention, perhaps because it symbolizes at the same time the Athenian democracy’s greatest 20. See the remarks of P. A. Brunt, “Postscript. Thucydides’ Funeral Speech,” in Studies in Greek History and Thought (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), 159– 80, at 173. 21. See James T. Chambers, “The Fourth-Century Athenians’ View of Their FifthCentury Empire,” PP 30 (1975): 177– 91, esp. 182– 87. 22. Anna Missiou, The Subversive Oratory of Andokides: Politics, Ideology and DecisionMaking in Democratic Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 78– 82. 23. Nouhaud, L’Utilisation de l’histoire, 247.

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hopes and greatest failure. Usually the orators make reference to the Sicilian expedition in the form of a warning not to repeat its folly (e.g., Aeschines 2.76). Nevertheless, they subtly twist the facts to conform to their purpose at hand. For example, in order to enhance Athens’s oftrepeated claim to be the protector of the weak and oppressed, both Andocides (3.28– 32) and Aeschines (2.76) handily gloss over the true reason for the expedition, the Athenians’ desire to conquer the entire island of Sicily (Thucydides 6.1 and 6.6). Even the final defeat at Aegospotami provides the orators with an opportunity for praise of the Athenian character. Demosthenes emphasizes the Athenians’ valor under extreme adversity, claiming that they did not give in until their fleet had been destroyed (22.15). Lysias (2.58) and Isocrates (14.39– 41) transform the disaster into a moral victory, for the subsequent Spartan hegemony puts the previous Athenian imperial rule into a more favorable light. Moreover, the orators remove all the credit from Lysander, attributing his devastating victory (Xenophon, Hellenica 2.1.22– 28) either to the incompetence of the Athenian commander or to the will of the gods.24 In the hands of the orators, then, the most stunning victory (and a naval one, at that) of the Spartans over the Athenians becomes (yet another) way of glorifying the rule of Athens and her heroes. Similarly, the oppressive rule of the so-called Thirty Tyrants becomes an occasion for praise of the Athenian character. Although the orators sometimes make references to the horrors committed by the Thirty as an example of brutality,25 they usually draw out of this episode something that reflects positively upon the Athenian democracy. Often the orators comment upon the unity of those who opposed the tyranny of the Thirty; all joined the democratic movement and proved their valor, earning their freedom with their victory over their opponents.26 A matter for even greater pride, however, was the reconciliation that took place after the
  24. Lysias 2.58: ειτε ηγεµ ονος κακι α  ειτε θεων διανοι α  . Robin Seager (“Thrasybulus, Conon and Athenian Imperialism, 396– 386 B.C.,” JHS 87 [1967]: 95– 115, at 108) views  η. Cf. Demosthenes 60.19 and this as a sneer at Conon; cf. 2.65. Isocrates 15.128: µι α  τυχ 21, in reference to Chaeronea. 25. See, e.g., Andocides 3.10 (although he too has his own agenda of glossing over Sparta’s past interference in Athens’s internal affairs); Isocrates 20.11 and 21.12 (but cf. 4.113); Demosthenes 22.52; and Aeschines 3.235 (but cf. 187). On the reign of terror of the Thirty, see Xenophon, Hellenica 2.3.11– 4.1; [Aristotle] Ath. Pol. 35– 37; and Lysias 12 and 13. 26. Lysias 2.61– 63; Isocrates 7.65– 67, 8.108; Aeschines 2.77– 78 and 3.190; Deinarchus 1.25; Hypereides 2.8.

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democratic victory, when the opposing groups vowed to put aside their differences and live in harmony.27 Not surprisingly, there was less occasion for pride when the Greek world descended again into internecine warfare at the beginning of the fourth century. In references to the Corinthian War, the orators tend to stick to generalities, exaggerate the contributions of the Athenians to the anti-Sparta coalition, and keep silent about the involvement of the Persian king (Lysias 2.67– 68; Isocrates 14.40– 41). As for the King’s Peace, which concluded the Corinthian War, the orators refer to it in one of two diametrically opposed ways. When they wish to compare contemporary conditions unfavorably to Athens’s great achievements in the fifth century, the orators contrast the ignominious terms of the King’s Peace, procured by the Spartans and ceding the Greek city-states of Asia Minor to Persia,28 with the glorious peace that their own ancestors had extracted from the Persians.29 On the other hand, when their aim is to compare favorably conditions in Athens as a result of the King’s Peace to their situation at the end of the Peloponnesian War or during the Corinthian War, the orators speak favorably of the peace terms.30 Thus, the orators’ references to the King’s Peace reveal better than most other historical examples their willingness to turn historical facts to their own rhetorical ends. Because the King’s Peace is the final episode in the historical survey contained in the Menexenus, I conclude my examination here of the ways in which the Attic orators use the historical example to create the mainstream democratic view of the past. It is possible, however, to make some general observations on the way the orators distort history. First, there is a tendency to give generalized versions of events, which in turn allows them to 27. Andocides 1.140; Lysias 2.63– 65 and 25.28; Isocrates 7.67 and 18.46; Demosthenes 40.32; and Aeschines 1.39, 2.176, and 3.208; cf. Xenophon, Hellenica 2.4.43 and [Aristotle] Ath. Pol. 39– 40. 28. Isocrates 4.175– 80 and 12.105– 7; cf. Xenophon, Hellenica 5.1.25 and 31 and the detailed discussion of E. Badian, “The King’s Peace,” in Georgica: Greek Studies in Honour of George Cawkwell, BICS Supplement 58, ed. Michael A. Flower and Mark Toher (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 1991), 25– 48. 29. Isocrates 4.118– 121; Demosthenes 15.29; cf. Demosthenes 23.140. The so-called Peace of Callias is a notorious crux in fifth-century history; see the recent treatments by E. Badian, “The Peace of Callias,” JHS 107 (1987): 1– 39; reprint, From Plataea to Potidaea: Studies in the History and Historiography of the Pentecontaetia (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), 1– 72; and G. L. Cawkwell, “The Peace between Athens and Persia,” Phoenix 51 (1997): 115– 30. 30. Isocrates 8.67– 68; Demosthenes 20.60; cf. Nouhaud, L’Utilisation de l’histoire, 328 n. 302.

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be used in a more versatile way. Second, although there are certain accepted topoi, these are by no means fixed, as the orators can modify them in order to fit the case they want to argue,31 giving their own interpretation of the facts. Third, there is a distinct (and natural) Athenian bias in allusions to the past. The orators play up Athens’s successes and either omit reverses (and other unflattering material) altogether or distort them in such a way as to emphasize Athenian courage and altruism. Finally, there is the common use of popular tradition in order to pander to a mass audience even when the actual facts are available. Of course, in oratory, the present is of primary importance and the past is useful only inasmuch as it provides a basis of comparison for the present, and so the orator’s use of the past differs from the historian’s.32 Nevertheless, the orators must be careful to avoid giving the impression that they are twisting the facts, for, as Jon Hesk has recently demonstrated, the logocentric Athenian democracy was particularly antipathetic to perceived deception, which it associated with Spartans and oligarchs.33 Plato’s opposition to contemporary political rhetoric is well known.34 In the Apology, the Platonic Socrates contrasts his concern for speaking the truth with the clever tricks taught by the sophists (esp. 17a– d). In the Symposium, Plato parodies Gorgias’s style through Agathon’s self-important and pretentious encomium of Eros (194e– 197e),35 a point that Socrates explicitly and ironically makes in his reply (198c). Plato articulates his most severe criticisms, however, in the Gorgias, where he dismisses political rhetoric as flattery (463a– 6; cf. 503a). Instead of serving as an instrument of moral instruction, political rhetoric has given politicians an effective tool to gratify the people for their own selfish interests (esp. Gorgias 31. See Perlman, “The Historical Example,” 150– 66, and Chambers, “The FourthCentury Athenians’ View,” 177– 91, both of whom examine only the modification of topoi for political reasons. 32. Perlman, “The Historical Example,” 154– 55, and Nouhaud, L’Utilisation de l’histoire, 354. Kenneth Dover (The Evolution of Greek Prose Style [Oxford: Clarendon, 1997], 5– 10) shows how Lysias (2.48– 53) modifies an episode found in Thucydides’ Pentecontaetia (1.105). 33. Jon Hesk, Deception and Democracy in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 34. But cf. Helen F. North, “Combing and Curling: Orator Summus Plato,” ICS 16 (1991): 201– 19. 35. For the parallels between Agathon’s speech and the extant portion of Gorgias’ funeral speech, see Kenneth Dover, ed., Plato: Symposium (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), 123– 24.

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502e– 503c).36 Plato does not limit his criticism to statesmen of Alcibiades’ generation but blames their predecessors, the great fifth-century leaders, Miltiades, Themistocles, Cimon, and especially Pericles,37 for their moral corruption of the state, which led to Athens’s eventual downfall (Gorgias 515a– 519c).38 Thus, Plato links Athens’s fifth-century imperialism with corruption, an association that, as we shall see, is a common one among the intellectual elite of fourth-century Athens, the intended readership of both Plato and the historians. Despite the fact that the Platonic Callicles is made to justify imperialism, that is, the desire to wield power over others, with the classically sophistic “might equals right” doctrine, it is significant that the Platonic Socrates does not ever directly attack this line of argumentation.39 J. Peter Euben has recently suggested that Plato attempts to detach aristocratic values of the type Callicles embraces (which would, after all, find a certain amount of sympathy among Plato’s elite readership) from social class and reattach them to intelligence and philosophy.40 Moreover, it is not Plato’s method to challenge directly the positions expressed by Socrates’ interlocutors but rather through dialectic to expose the flaws in their thinking or, as he does in the Menexenus, to take a point to extremes and thereby destroy its foundation. Although Plato shows in the Gorgias that dialectical philosophy is superior to contemporary political rhetoric, the dialogue cannot be reduced to a simple debate between “philosophy” and “rhetoric.”41 The Platonic Socrates ends the dialogue with the rhetorical telling of a myth, and it is implicit throughout that philosophy also is rhetorical and manipulative.42 Plato himself recognized the power of the spoken word to transform an audience’s perception of a historical event43 and was not averse to harness36. On Plato’s aversion to the dangerously seductive “magic” of the rhetoric of the sophists, see Jacqueline de Romilly, Magic and Rhetoric in Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975), 25– 32 and 37– 43. 37. See, however, Harvey Yunis, Taming Democracy: Models of Political Rhetoric in Classical Athens (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), esp. 136– 39. 38. E. R. Dodds, Plato: Gorgias (Oxford: Clarendon, 1979), 23– 34. 39. I thank one of the referees for drawing this important point to my attention. 40. J. Peter Euben, Corrupting Youth: Political Education, Democratic Culture, and Political Theory (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 207. 41. Cf. John R. Wallach, The Platonic Political Art: A Study of Critical Reason and Democracy (University Park, Penn.: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001), 184. 42. Euben, Corrupting Youth, 207. 43. For a modern parallel of the power of the spoken word, see Garry Wills’s (Lincoln at Gettysburg: The Words That Remade America [New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992]) convinc-

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ing some of its power to his own ends. The difference is that Plato considered his manipulation of words to be justified because it was for the purpose of moral instruction rather than the flattery of the masses. As E. R. Dodds recognized nearly forty years ago, Plato lays out his theoretical objection to the immoral use of rhetoric by Athenian politicians in the Gorgias but illustrates it in practice in the Menexenus.44 As I shall demonstrate, Plato follows up his dismissal of rhetoric as flattery in the Gorgias by exposing and ridiculing the flattery of rhetoric in the Menexenus. Despite his opposition to contemporary practice, however, it is important to note that in his other works Plato uses historical exempla with no more interest in akribeia than the orators. For example, the account of the Persian Wars offered by the Athenian Stranger in the Laws (3.698b– 699d) contains the same topoi as found in the Athenian orators. Another obvious example is Plato’s invention of the mythical city of Atlantis in the Timaeus and the Critias, intended, as many have noted, to serve as a paradigm for the ideal state elaborated in the Republic.45 Plato’s disregard for strict historical truth is perhaps best illustrated by his frequent and emphatic use of anachronism.46 The most obvious examples are the major anachronisms found in the Gorgias and the Symposium. Although the dramatic date of the Gorgias is set soon after 427, the date of Gorgias’s visit to Athens (Pericles’ death in 429 is referred to as recent at 503c), references are made to Archelaus’s accession to the Macedonian throne in 413 (470d) and to the trial of the generals in Athens after the Battle of Arginusae in 406 (473e).47 In the Symposium, historical allusions are made to the events of the 380s (182b, 193a), well after both the dramatic date of the dialogue, which is ing account of how Abraham Lincoln, with the Gettysburg Address, “transformed the ugly reality into something rich and strange” (20). Wills demonstrates that while Lincoln reflected many of the standard topoi of the Athenian funeral orations, his address was no pale imitation but a work of new genius. I thank one of the referees for this useful reference. 44. Dodds, Plato: Gorgias, 24. Louis M´eridier (Platon V.1 [Paris: Collection des Universit´es de France, 1931], 77) and Dodds (Plato: Gorgias, 24) consider the work to be a sort of satyr play to the Gorgias. On the thematic links between the Apology and the Menexenus, see Bruce Rosenstock, “Socrates as Revenant: A Reading of the Menexenus,” Phoenix 48 (1994): 331– 47. 45. See Kathryn A. Morgan, “Designer History: Plato’s Atlantis Story and FourthCentury Ideology,” JHS 118 (1998): 101– 118 (with earlier bibliography). 46. Cf. Athenaeus 5.217c: “It is clear from many dialogues that Plato often errs
with

νει δηλον


δ ε πολλα ο Πλα των παρα τους  χρονους  respect to chronology” ( οτι αµαρτα
ε στιν ε κ πολλων). 47. On dating indications in the Gorgias, see Dodds, Plato: Gorgias, 17– 18.

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Agathon’s first victory at the Lenaea in 416 (173a), and the deaths of several of the dramatis personae, including both Socrates and Alcibiades. Likewise, if the dramatic date of the Republic could be established as 411, then Plato’s raising of Cephalus from the dead is a major anachronism on a par with those in the Symposium.48 Plato’s use of anachronism seems akin to his technique of the noble lie, a fiction that in the interests of moral truth transcends the bounds of factual accuracy.49 Thus, he uses the device of anachronism as a reminder to look beneath the transparently fictional surface for the underlying moral truth. Plato’s disregard for strict historical accuracy in the Menexenus is of a different nature altogether. The Menexenus is indeed a puzzling dialogue, and its difficulty of interpretation led, in the nineteenth century, to fears that it was not authentic.50 No one now seriously doubts Plato’s authorship,51 but the work still raises various questions. It has been shown that Plato’s subtle subversion of the genre of funeral oratory in the Menexenus extends to criticism of contemporary rhetoric and politics as a whole.52 In my discussion, I shall focus exclusively upon the historical section of the Menexenus to show how Plato deliberately parodies the conventional distortions of the funeral oration in order to subvert the sanitized versions of the past presented by the orators in Athens as a means of promoting democratic ideology.53 In form, the greater part of the Menexenus is an example of the funeral 48. On anachronism in the Republic, see now Debra Nails, “The Dramatic Date of Plato’s Republic,” CJ 93 (1998): 383– 96. 49. Republic 382b– d, 389b, 414b– e, 459c– d, Laws 663d; see also Carl Page, “The Truth about Lies in Plato’s Republic,” Ancient Philosophy 11 (1991): 1– 33; Christopher Gill, “Plato on Falsehood—Not Fiction,” in Lies and Fiction in the Ancient World, ed. Christopher Gill and T. P. Wiseman (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993), 38– 87; and Jon Hesk, Deception and Democracy, esp. 151– 62. 50. M´eridier (Platon V.1, 77) lists some of the nineteenth-century attempts to contest or deny the authenticity of the Menexenus. A twentieth-century attack is that of A. Momigliano, “Il Menesseno,” RFIC 58 (1930): 40– 53. 51. The most convincing argument against the attackers of the Menexenus’s authenticity is the fact that Aristotle twice refers to 235d in his Rhetoric (1367b and 1415b); see George Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion in Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), 158. 52. Robert Clavaud, Le M´enex`ene de Platon et la rh´etorique de son temps (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1980); Loraux, The Invention of Athens, esp. 312– 27; and Lucinda Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” JHS 109 (1989): 1– 15. 53. Andrea Wilson Nightingale (Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995]) provides a thorough discussion of Plato’s “masterful use of parody as a device for defining and privileging his own pursuits” (59), but does not consider the Menexenus in detail (106– 7).

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speech (epitaphios) given in Athens over those who perished in war.54 The work begins with an introductory dialogue in which Socrates meets the young Menexenus, who informs him that an orator is to be selected by the city to give the customary funeral speech (234a– b).55 After a rather ironic assessment of the expertise of orators (234c– 235d), Socrates offers to repeat from memory a speech that had been composed by his (and Pericles’) teacher, Aspasia (235e– 236d). He proceeds to deliver this speech, which consists of two parts: a section of praise (επαινος) of the dead (237a– 246a), which includes a historical survey, and an exhortation (παραι νεσις) to the living (246a– 249c). Menexenus, after expressing his skepticism about Aspasia’s authorship of the funeral oration, then takes his leave of Socrates (249d– e). I shall refer to the speaker of the epitaphios contained in the Menexenus as “The Speaker” for reasons of simplicity. While Plato attributes the speech to Socrates, who in turn attributes it to Aspasia, the epitaphios itself cannot be thought to contain the actual views of any of these historical figures. Turning now to the historical survey in the epitaphios (239d– 246a), it is important to note that it contains two levels of distortion. First, there is the patriotic distortion required by the very nature of the funeral oration. Naturally, the speaker of a funeral oration undertakes to praise the dead and their native city, and thus cannot diminish his eulogy by mentioning material that does not reflect well upon Athens and the Athenian democracy. Plato is very careful to show that the funeral oration in the Menexenus conforms to the others in this respect (cf. 235d, 237a). This tendentious nature of the funeral oration also gives rise to insidious exaggerations and misrepresentations of both fact and intent, all to reflect the glory of Athens. Where we find such distortions, it is not always easy to distinguish whether Plato is simply making the speech obey the usual conventions of the epitaphios or whether he has a second, deeper purpose in mind. Scholars generally agree that the distortions in this epitaphios are far worse than 54. Five other epitaphioi survive: twenty-two lines of a funeral oration ascribed to Gorgias contained in the introduction to Dionysius of Halicarnassus’s essay on Demosthenes, Pericles’ famous funeral oration in Thucydides (2.35– 46), and those preserved in the corpora of Lysias (2), Demosthenes (60), and Hypereides (6). This was apparently a custom unique to Athens (Demosthenes 20.141). For recent detailed discussions, see John E. Ziolkowski, Thucydides and the Tradition of Funeral Speeches at Athens (Salem, N.H.: Ayer, 1981), and Loraux, The Invention of Athens. 55. On the significance of the choice of Menexenus as Socrates’ interlocutor, see Rosenstock, “Socrates as Revenant,” 331– 47, and Lesley Dean-Jones, “Menexenus—Son of Socrates,” CQ n.s., 45 (1995): 51– 57.

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those of the other funeral orations.56 The very fact that the errors contained in the historical section of the epitaphios given in the Menexenus are so blatant and so numerous casts aspersions on the credibility not only of the funeral oration in general but also of contemporary democratic politics and rhetoric as a whole. Interestingly, at the beginning of the narration of the past contained in this alleged funeral oration, The Speaker uses praeteritio to mention the standard legendary exploits of the Athenians, stating that these deeds have already been hymned by the poets (239b– c). For this reason, he begins his survey of Athens’s glorious past with its actions in the Persian Wars, which he claims have not yet been hymned satisfactorily by the poets and still lie in oblivion, a statement that would have come as a surprise to readers of Aeschylus and Simonides. And so, the historical survey in the epitaphios begins with a factual incident, rather than a legendary one, but does so on the dubious pretext that the Persian Wars had not been properly treated by the poets. In his treatment of the Persian Wars (239d– 241d), The Speaker emphasizes the usual theme of the fight for freedom against the barbarians. Unlike the other orators, however, The Speaker delves into the antecedents to the Persian expeditions against Greece and is the only one to mention Cyrus and Cambyses, as well as Darius. Cyrus freed his fellow Persians but enslaved the Medes, and he ruled over all of Asia except Egypt. Cambyses gained control over Egypt and as much of Libya as was possible to traverse, while Darius extended his land empire as far as Scythia, and controlled the sea and the islands with his navy (239d– e). This emphasis on imperialism, with its reference to the sea, would naturally have brought to mind Athens’s fifth-century empire, equating it with the enslavement by the Persians of their subjects. Another topic unique to the Menexenus is a reference to the role of the Athenians in the Ionian Revolt, which The Speaker claims was Darius’s reason for aggression against the Athenians and the Eretrians (240a). The mention of the Athnians’ active role in the Ionian Revolt (Herodotus 5.99– 104)—including a reference to Sardis, which would surely have 56. Detailed lists of the historical inaccuracies in the Menexenus can be found in J. A. Shawyer, The Menexenus of Plato (Oxford: Clarendon, 1906), xi– xv; M´eridier, Platon V.1, 59– 64; Edmund F. Bloedow, “Aspasia and the ‘Mystery’ of the Menexenos,” WS n.s., 9 (1975): 32– 48, at 37– 42; M. M. Henderson, “Plato’s Menexenus and the Distortion of History,” Acta Classica 18 (1975): 25– 46, at 39– 45; and Clavaud, Le M´enex`ene de Platon, 127– 67.

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brought to mind the burning of the temple there—appears somewhat odd in a funeral oration designed to praise Athens, because it makes Darius’s reaction seem justified. By this deliberate refusal to vilify the Persians, the reader is gently reminded that the Athenians were not entirely innocent victims of Persian aggression, as the other orators imply.57 The next episode in which this epitaphios differs is the approach of Datis (240a– c), who is not named in any of the others. The Speaker comments that Datis is equipped with only three hundred triremes (240a), in contrast to the six hundred mentioned by Herodotus (6.95.2). Following this obvious underplaying of the extent of the threat presented by Datis, The Speaker exaggerates the valor of his first objects of attack, the Eretrians, characterizing them as very renowned warriors and not few in number (240b). He then states that they were defeated in three days (240b), although the figure of seven days was available (Herodotus 6.101.2), immediately revealing the falseness of his portrayal of the Eretrians as outstanding warriors. Another claim found neither in Herodotus nor in the other epitaphioi is that Datis and his troops joined hands in a line across the island to ensure that no Eretrian escaped. As we have seen, the other epitaphioi prefer to concentrate upon the Athenians’ glorious achievement at Marathon.58 By making The Speaker dwell upon Datis’s approach, Plato implicitly criticizes the tendency of other epitaphioi to be misleadingly selective in their choice of events to mention. The unusually full treatment of Datis, who appears to have become a figure of fun in Athens by the end of the fifth century,59 further indicates that Plato is indulging in subtle subversion. In the Laws, Plato inserts a passage similar to this one into the mouth of the Athenian speaker (698c– d). In it, however, the reference to the Eretrians as renowned warriors is omitted, as are the specific figure of triremes and the number of days for the capture of Eretria. The claim of Datis to have netted Eretria is mocked. The Athenian speaker of the Laws may represent Plato’s view of the amount of patriotic rhetoric that is acceptable, while he uses our epitaphios to show how ridiculous the patriotic claims of the democratic tradition, when taken to extremes, can be. A review of the Persian Wars follows, in which the Athenian part is emphasized as required by the demands of the epitaphic logos (240a– 241c). A comparison of the praise that The Speaker accords to those who 57. Cf. Lysias (2.21), who states that Darius attacked Greece hoping to enslave Europe. 58. Loraux (The Invention of Athens, 155– 71) discusses the special place of Marathon in the Athenian panegyrical tradition. 59. M. V. Molitor, “The Song of Datis,” Mnemosyne 39 (1986): 128– 31.

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fought at Salamis (241a– c) with Plato’s contempt for the naval victory in the Laws (707c) is instructive. It seems that Plato’s true opinion conforms to the standard aristocratic exaltation of the hoplite victory at Marathon over the democratic naval victory.60 Our epitaphios then turns to the subsequent mopping-up operations that freed the seas from any Persian threat (241c– 241e). Unlike the other orators (esp. Lysias 2.47 and 55– 57), The Speaker says nothing about the foundation and development of Athens’s fifth-century maritime empire, except perhaps for a glancing allusion in the phrase “there was peace and




the city was honored” (ε ι ρηνης δ ε γενοµενης κα ι της πολεως τιµωµενης). He proceeds directly from the campaigns against Persia (all of which, including the notorious Egyptian campaign, he implies to be successes) to war within Greece, stating that Athens was plunged into war against its


will as a result of jealousy (ζηλος) and envy (φθονος) on the part of the other Greeks (242a). There is nothing unusual in The Speaker’s treatment of Athens as the victim of the aggression of others (cf. Lysias 2.48), but, in contrast to the other orators, who omit any mention of Athens’s efforts toward the establishment of a land empire in central Greece in the 450s, these campaigns are the only ones that are mentioned from the Pentecontaetia. The fact that The Speaker says twice that the Athenians launch their campaign in central Greece on behalf of the freedom of the Boeotians (242b) serves only to emphasize the imperialism of the Athenians. Surprisingly, in a logos purportedly devoted to praise of Athens, little is made of the Athenian victory at Oenophyta, possibly lauded by other epitaphioi,61 and it is telescoped into the Tanagra campaign.62 Moreover, The Speaker claims that the dead of Oenophyta were the first to be honored with a public funeral (242b– c), a statement not found in any other source.63 Nicole Loraux has drawn attention to The Speaker’s juxtaposition of this 60. Andocides 1.107– 8; on Andocides’ telescoping of the hoplite battle at Marathon with the naval victory at Salamis as a reflection of his aristocratic background, see Perlman, “The Historical Example,” 163– 64, and Missiou, The Subversive Oratory of Andokides, 51– 52. 61. Diodorus (11.82.1– 4) characterizes this battle as one of the greatest Athenian military achievements; it is likely that his source for this section of his narrative is an epitaphios, as K. R. Walters argues, following a suggestion by Strasburger (“Diodorus 11.82– 84 and the Second Battle of Tanagra,” AJAH 3 [1978]: 188– 91). 62. Oenophyta is said to have taken place two days after Tanagra (242b), whereas Thucydides states that it happened sixty-two days later (1.108.2) and Diodorus places it in the archon-year following Tanagra (11.81.1). 63. Most scholars agree that the custom most likely originated somewhere between the Battle of Plataea in 479 and the Battle of Drabescus in 465/4; see Ziolkowski, Thucydides and the Tradition of Funeral Speeches at Athens, 13– 21.

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statement with the inauguration of a new phase in Greek warfare, that of Greeks fighting Greeks.64 By refusing to allow The Speaker to take advantage of the opportunity to praise Athens for a clear victory, and by highlighting with the (probably erroneous) origin of the epitaphios the fact that the funeral oration more often than not honors those who died in wars against other Greeks, Plato draws attention to the tendency of the other epitaphioi to celebrate Athenian imperialism. Our epitaphios continues with a section on the Peloponnesian War that, true to the conventions of the genre, is very truncated. The Speaker mentions explicitly only one campaign of the Archidamian War, the resounding Athenian success at Pylos (242c– d); significantly, this is the only reference to this episode among the extant orations. The Speaker gives a distorted version of the Athenian treatment of the Spartans captured on the island of Sphagia,65 claiming that although it was possible for the Athenians to put them to death, they spared them, gave them back, and made peace. Again, he appears to telescope separate events, for Thucydides says that the Spartans were kept as hostages, to be killed if their compatriots invaded Attica again (4.41), and were not given back until after the Peace of Nicias, nearly four years later (5.18.7). Furthermore, The Speaker attributes noble motives to the Athenians for their failure to put the Spartan prisoners to death immediately (242c– d), whereas Thucydides indicates that the reason they spared their lives was to use them as bargaining chips (4.41.1). By including this episode, Plato emphasizes the transparent falseness of the usual Athenian claims to altruistic actions in aid of the weak. The short-lived Peace of Nicias also receives some attention in our epitaphios, where the reason given for the Athenian willingness to enter into peace negotiations is that they thought it right to wage war against their fellow Greeks only to the point of victory, but to wage war against the barbarian to the point of destruction (242d). This statement appears to be a deliberate attempt to satirize patriotic sentiments of this sort in epitaphic oratory, for the Athenian claim not to have fought to the death against their fellow Greeks is certainly awkward with reference to the year 421, in view of the fact that the Athenians had six years earlier almost put the entire male population of Mytilene to death and had recently voted to do the same to Scione (Thucydides 3.36– 50; 4.122.6). Furthermore, The 64. Loraux, The Invention of Athens, 62. 65. This island off the coast of Pylos is more commonly known, thanks to Thucydides, as Sphacteria. Nevertheless, as Strabo makes clear (8.4.2), it was also called Sphagia, which name the island retains today.

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Speaker himself has just claimed that the campaigns against Persia in the middle of the fifth century merely frightened off the king (241e). The emphasis upon the exaggerated claims made by the epitaphic tradition continues throughout the survey of the renewal of hostilities between Sparta and Athens (242e– 243d). The first episode to be mentioned is the Sicilian expedition, although there is no explicit reference to Syracuse, which deflects attention from the true cause of the expedition, Athenian aggrandizement. The Speaker states that the Athenians went to Sicily to protect the freedom of the Leontinians, which is the motive that was preserved in the oral tradition in Athens (Aeschines 2.76). Likewise, as the tendentious nature of the epitaphios requires, the crushing Athenian defeat in the Battle of the Great Harbor at Syracuse is not mentioned, and The Speaker says only that the Athenians gave up the expedition, because they were victims of bad luck (243a). Statements of this sort were presumably current in Athens but the exaggeration contained in the following state 

of the Athement, that the prudence (σωφροσυνη) and excellence (αρετ η) nians ensured that they were the recipients of more praise from their enemies than others receive from their friends (243a), detracts from The Speaker’s credibility. It seems that Plato again has The Speaker present a statement typical of epitaphioi, only immediately to cut the foundations out from under it, thereby revealing its essential invalidity. As is customary of the genre, even the inglorious last years of the Peloponnesian War provide an occasion for praise of the Athenian character (243a– d). The Speaker emphasizes the usual themes of the perfidy of the other Greeks in seeking the aid of the Persian king and of Athenian valor in adversity. Whereas the other orators mention only the final defeat at Aegospotami, the sole episode to which The Speaker refers is the Battle of Arginusae, choosing it as the example of the strength and courage of Athens. The notorious aftermath of the battle, to which The Speaker specifically alludes (243c), immediately strips away any claims of the Athenians to virtue on this occasion. The bad taste that the Arginusae episode left in the mouths of the Athenians (Xenophon, Hellenica 1.7.35) precludes any of the other orators from mentioning the battle. Like the other orators, The Speaker does not allow the Spartans to take any credit for the final defeat of the Athenians, but goes somewhat further in his statement that the Athenians defeated themselves, remaining still undefeated by others (cf. Lysias 2.65– 66). Here too The Speaker engages in his usual procedure of exaggerating, and thereby undercutting, the traditional claims made by the orators.

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In obedience to the requirements of funeral orations, instead of mentioning the depredations of the Thirty, The Speaker concentrates on the reconciliation between the two sides after the democrats under Thrasybulus regained power (243e– 244b), attributing the cause of the civil strife to misfortune rather than to wickedness or hatred (244b). As we have seen, this emphasis on reconciliation exists also elsewhere, but our epitaphios goes beyond the others in saying that other states would pray to be afflicted in the same way as Athens, should they be fated to suffer civil strife (243e). Once more, The Speaker takes a point of which the Athenian democracy could legitimately be proud and exaggerates it to the point of self-parody, in mockery of the tendency of the Athenian orators to tailor historical facts to flatter the masses. In the next section (244b– c), The Speaker conforms to the tendency of patriotic Athenian oratory to whitewash Athens by claiming that Athens’s sufferings at the end of the Peloponnesian War were entirely undeserved (244b). He says that the Athenians forgave the barbarians but at this time were angry with the other Greeks for having joined the barbarians against them. The fact that this statement is inconsistent with previous statements in the epitaphios serves to reveal its patent inaccuracy. The Speaker has just claimed (244b) that the reason why the Athenians were able to achieve such complete reconciliation following the civil discord caused by the rule of the Thirty was that they forgave one another because they were of the same stock. The fact that now the Athenians are prepared to forgive the barbarians reveals the previous statement to be insincere.66 Furthermore, The Speaker has stated earlier that in contrast to the other Greeks, the Athenians think it proper to wage war against the barbarian to the point of destruction (242d). By means of these inconsistencies, the Athenian claim to be misobarbaroi in contrast to the other, philobarbaroi Greeks is revealed to be hollow. In his narrative of the Corinthian War (244d– 246a), The Speaker continues this theme with the claim that even the Persian king was in such desperate straits at this time that he stood in need of Athens’s help (244d),

which is described as a thing most providentially arranged (το γε θειοτα τον παντων). This striking adjective not only shows that the Athenian claims to be misobarbaroi are transparently self-serving, but also draws attention to the falseness of this statement. Rather, it was Persia that helped Athens, by making the expatriate Athenian general Conon admiral 66. Henderson, “Plato’s Menexenus,” 43– 44.

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of the Persian navy. Conon turned this post to Athens’s advantage, first by asking to be allowed to keep the fleet that he could then maintain from the islanders, and then by getting subsidies from Pharnabazus, the satrap of Phrygia, and the Persian king to rebuild Athens’s walls (Xenophon, Hellenica 4.8.9– 10). To keep a consistent presentation of the Athenians as misobarbaroi, The Speaker is forced to qualify Athens’s “saving” of the Persian king as unofficial, carried out by refugees and volunteers (245a). The self-conscious way in which Plato makes him do so indicates his disapproval of the sort of revisionist history practiced by the orators who attribute the most imperialistic actions to Athens’s compassion and desire to aid the weak. Furthermore, this is one of the more blatant examples of Plato’s applying one of the standard themes of the genre to excess. While the other epitaphioi (with the exception of the fragmentary oration attributed to Gorgias) do employ the topos that the Athenians always fight for freedom on behalf of their fellow Greeks,67 The Speaker not only adopts this commonplace (239b, 242a, 242b, 244e, 245a) but even claims that they freed the Persian king himself (246a)! This parody of transparently revisionist history continues with The Speaker’s account of the peace negotiations that put an end to the Corinthian War (245b– d). Here, the whole process of peace negotiations appears to be rolled into one set, for there were at least three attempts at peace during this period: a conference at Sardis (Xenophon, Hellenica 4.8.15), a separate one at Sparta (Andocides 3.33), and the King’s Peace of 387/6 (Xenophon, Hellenica 5.1.30– 36).68 The Speaker claims that Athens is the only Greek state not willing to hand over the Greeks of Asia Minor to the Persians through hatred of the barbarian (245c). This statement appears to be referring to the first set of negotiations at Sardis in the 390s, for Xenophon agrees that the Athenians were not willing to agree to these peace terms but indicates that they refused the proposed peace terms for much less noble motives—because the autonomy clause would not allow them to keep their colonies of Lemnos, Imbros, and Scyros (Hellenica 4.8.15). Moreover, the Athenians were not the only ones reluctant to accept these peace terms; the other members of the antiSparta coalition also refused, for similarly selfish reasons. In a section very reminiscent of Andocides’ argument in the De pace, The Speaker glosses 67. Thucydides 2.40.5; Lysias 2.14– 15, 34, 42, 44, 47, 55, 68; Demosthenes 60.23; and Hypereides 6.10, 16, 19, 24, 40. 68. I discuss the first two peace conferences further in “Presbeis Autokratores: Andocides’ De pace,” Phoneix 49 (1995): 140– 49.

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over the terms of the peace, which ceded all the Asian Greeks to the Persian king (Xenophon, Hellenica 5.1.31), and comments instead upon the fact that the Athenians have obtained what they desired; their walls, ships, and colonies (245e). It is clear that, by their acceptance of the terms of the peace, the Athenians have committed that act, which just above  κα ι αν

 οσιον), (245d) has been called shameful and unholy (α ι σχρον the surrender to Persia of the Greeks of Asia Minor. Once again, through inconsistency with previous statements, Plato makes The Speaker signal the lack of substance of the topos of misobarbarism found in Athenian patriotic oratory. With his account of the peace treaty, The Speaker reveals as false many of the preceding claims made throughout the historical survey. He states now (245e) that Athens had been defeated at the end of the Peloponnesian War, although he claimed previously (243d) that Athens had the reputation (and it was true) of being impossible to defeat. The statement is also made here that the Athenians freed the king and drove the Spartans from the seas, in blatant contradiction to the proud claim earlier (242d) that the Athenians thought it right to wage war with fellow Greeks only until the point of victory but to continue the fight against the barbarian to the point of destruction. Now the Athenians have been shown explicitly not only to have fought against their fellow Greeks, but to have done so in company with the Persians. The survey of Athens’s glorious deeds in the past concludes with a reference to the brave men who died in the Corinthian War (246a). It is now clear that despite their pretensions to be fighting selflessly against the barbarian for the freedom of their fellow Greeks, the Athenians have only betrayed their moral principles, with the consequent loss of many brave men. Thus, this concluding portion, with its pessimism and reversion to the truth, reveals the falseness of much of the preceding excursus and signals the hollowness of the standard claims of the Athenian democracy. Another way in which Plato indicates his criticism of the traditional topoi of Athenian patriotic oratory is the difference in emphasis given in the Menexenus to wars for which the Athenians cannot legitimately claim the same glory as they can for their role in the Persian Wars. The other funeral orations dwell in much less detail on the events of the Peloponnesian War, on the ground that the Athenians’ part in this war was far less noble than their role in the Persian Wars.69 Here, there is a longer survey of the events 69. Cf. Lysias 2.54– 57 and Demosthenes 60.11.

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of the Corinthian War than one might expect from the statement “Why


 τι δει ), with which this indeed should I prolong this?” (κα ι µηκυνειν µ εν section begins (244d). In this way, Plato plays upon the standard use of praeteritio in the oratorical tradition and reveals how deceptive it is, for he makes The Speaker provide details for several campaigns of the Corinthian War. Yet in the end the comprehensiveness of this section has its foundations removed in its turn by the claim that far more numerous and noble deeds have been omitted (246a). This is another example of the way in which our epitaphios takes many of the general eulogistic and patriotic themes of the funeral oration and applies them to excess. In order to parody the genre most effectively, Plato includes in this epitaphios most of the standard themes. Thirty-nine commonplaces of funeral orations have been identified, of which our example contains thirtyfive, close behind Lysias (thirty-seven) and Demosthenes (thirty-six).70 It is worth noting that Lysias’s speech, at nineteen Oxford pages, is slightly longer than our example, which stands at thirteen, while Demosthenes’, at eleven Oxford pages, is slightly shorter. By means of exaggeration and internal inconsistencies in his use of these standard topoi, Plato signals the lack of credibility of many of the so-called historical facts contained in the oratorical tradition when used purely for political purposes. Plato’s use of another technique draws further attention to the intentional lack of credibility of the orators’ account of the past. By means of a “deliberate and fantastic anachronism,”71 Plato attributes to Socrates, whose death in 399 was well known, knowledge of the events of the Corinthian War, which ended more than a decade after his death. Furthermore, he does not attempt to conceal this anachronism but rather draws attention to it by making the narrative of the Corinthian War (244d– 246a) the most detailed part of the historical section of the epitaphios, despite the claim to the contrary at its introduction.72 By his obvious contradiction of an explicit statement, Plato draws attention to an already blatant anachronism. Why does Plato continue the historical survey contained in the logos until he 70. Ziolkowski, Thucydides and the Tradition of Funeral Speeches at Athens, 33– 36. 71. Dodds, Plato: Gorgias, 24. 72. Jules Labarbe (“Anomalies dans le M´enex`ene de Platon,” AntCl 60 [1991]: 89– 101) offers the bizarre suggestion that the pronouns were masculinized and the allusions to the Corinthian War were interpolated when “Aspasia’s” speech was detached from the dialogue in the Hellenistic period for annual recitation. Aside from the fact that the deliberate use of anachronism in Plato’s other works makes it unnecessary to explain away this one, Socrates indicates that Aspasia acts as a ghost writer of this epitaphios (236b), so the masculine pronouns are not an “anomaly” at all.

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passes the point where any pretense that Socrates ever delivered this speech can still be maintained? The answer must be that by continuing the survey up through the Corinthian War, Plato is able to show that the Athenians’ professedly noble motives belong in fact to the realm of self-interest.73 The twin pillars of the Athenians’ proud boast always to be acting purely altruistically are their claims that they have always fought for the freedom of others74 and have continually opposed the barbarians.75 The Speaker even goes so far as to chastise the “ingratitude” of the Spartans for soliciting help from the Persians during the Peloponnesian War (243b and 244c), which he cites as the reason for Athens’s “allowing” the Spartans to enslave the other Greeks. Both of Athens’s altruistic claims are revealed quite explicitly to be false, as we have seen, by the exaggerations and inconsistencies contained throughout the epitaphios, but they reach a climax in the account of Athens’s behavior during the Corinthian War. The effect of the anachronism of Socrates’ relating events a decade after his death is to galvanize the reader into true awareness of the hypocrisy of the Athenians’ pride in their past, which Plato subtly reveals to be somewhat less noble than their proud claims indicate. Thus, Plato’s use of anachronism in the Menexenus is similar to that of his other works, in that it functions as a reminder to the reader to look beneath the surface of the verbal sophistries contained in the oratorical tradition for the underlying moral truth.76 Another way in which Plato uses the Menexenus to parody the oratorical tradition is Socrates’ statement that he is repeating a funeral oration not of his own invention but rather one composed by Aspasia, some of which was extemporized and the rest patched together from the speech that she had prepared for Pericles (236c). As with the Phaedrus, in which Phaedrus purports to repeat a speech of the orator Lysias, we are not meant to take the purported authorship seriously. Plato proceeds to cast doubt upon the credibility of the attribution of the epitaphios to Aspasia in two ways. Socrates’ tongue-in-cheek remark that he almost received a beating from Aspasia for his slowness in memorizing the speech (236c) reduces it in 73. Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 4. 74. 239b, 240d– e, 242b, 244e, and 245a. 75. 239a, 240d– e, 241b– c, 241d– 242a, 242d, and 245c– e. 76. For somewhat different conclusions on the serious purposes of this anachronism, see Harold S. Stern, “Plato’s Funeral Oration,” New Scholasticum 48 (1974): 503– 8, at 505; Rosenstock, “Socrates as Revenant,” 331– 47; and Dean-Jones, “Menexenus—Son of Socrates,” 51– 57.

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effect, as Nicole Loraux has observed,77 to the level of a school exercise. Also, Plato’s emphasis at the end of the dialogue on Menexenus’s disbelief that Aspasia did indeed compose it (249d– e) suggests the falseness of its attribution to her. As he so often does in the Menexenus, Plato sets up an apparent fact only to send it tumbling down afterward. The question, then, is not whether this funeral speech was really composed by Aspasia but rather why Plato goes through the elaborate pretense of attributing it to her. Plato uses the figure of Aspasia on several different levels,78 which explains the multitude of interpretations that modern scholars have proposed on this subject. She has been viewed as a kind of Diotima figure.79 Certainly, both figures fill the function of the teacher, and both become frustrated with the perceived slowness of Socrates (Menexenus 236b– c, Symposium 204b and 207c). Because Aspasia is a wellknown figure in her own right, however, there must be a more precise point to Plato’s choice of her as Socrates’ teacher in the Menexenus. For this reason, some scholars have seen in the figure of Aspasia a literary allusion to the lost Aspasia dialogue by Aeschines.80 Nevertheless, we cannot be sure that Aeschines’ dialogue, or any other Socratic work using Aspasia as an interlocutor, does in fact predate the Menexenus or, if so, that Plato borrowed any more than the idea of using Aspasia as the central figure. It is a logical inference that one of her functions is to create a link with Pericles’ funeral speech in Thucydides, which Socrates alleges to be the work of Aspasia (236b).81 Because the latter does not contain a historical survey, however, it is clear that Plato wants to go beyond the Thucydidean version to comment upon the epitaphios in general, by including many of the standard historical themes. As Madeleine Henry has recently shown, the portrayal of Aspasia in comedy has made her into an interchangeable character; her very inter77. Nicole Loraux, “Socrate contrepoison de l’oraison fun`ebre,” AntCl 43 (1974): 172– 211, at 200. 78. Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 3. 79. E.g., Ilse von Loewenclau, Der Platonische Menexenos (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer Verlag, 1961), 33. 80. Ivo Bruns, Das literarische Portr¨at der Griechen im f¨ unften und vierten Jahrhundert vor Christi Geburt (Berlin: Wilhelm Hertz, 1896), 359; and Heinrich Dittmar, Aeschines von Sphettos: Studien zur Literaturgeschichte der Sokratiker (Berlin: Weidmann, 1912), 40– 59. 81. Dionysius of Halicarnassus was the first to draw a parallel between the funeral oration contained in the Menexenus and that of the Thucydidean Pericles (Demosthenes 23). See Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 3; and S. Sara Monoson, Plato’s Democratic Entanglements: Athenian Politics and the Practice of Philosophy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 182– 89.

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changeability with other speakers serves to emphasize the emptiness of the sentiments contained in epitaphioi.82 Moreover, because of her well-known connection with Pericles, Aspasia is an obviously ironic choice for Plato to criticize the type of statesmanship that Pericles represents, particularly in view of his association with fifth-century imperialism; in this way, as S. Sara Monoson has noted, Plato furthers the criticism of Pericles as pandering to the demos that he articulated in the Gorgias.83 Robert Clavaud has made a convincing case for the argument that Plato is directing his attention in the Menexenus not just to funeral speeches in particular but to political rhetoric in general.84 Aspasia’s function as a link to political rhetoric in general is made explicit, because Socrates says that she has taught not only Pericles but other orators too (235e).85 Furthermore, Aspasia is a means by which to distance Socrates from the speech.86 Because Socrates does not compose his own speech, but rather repeats one he has learned from Aspasia, Plato uses the figure of Aspasia to emphasize the way in which both the epitaphios and the other forms of patriotic oratory are forced by their nature to draw upon a stock of standard themes and thus allow no scope for originality or moral instruction. Because Plato’s use of the figure of Aspasia on several levels indicates that the Menexenus did have a wider function, it is time now to consider what its purpose might be. There are two schools of thought on this question. One believes that Plato had a positive purpose in the Menexenus, even though none of the proponents of this view resolves the problem of the irony contained in the dialogue. The other school considers the work to be a parody of contemporary rhetoric and politics.87 82. Madeleine M. Henry, Prisoner of History: Aspasia of Miletus and Her Biographical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 32– 40. 83. Monoson, Plato’s Democratic Entanglements, esp. 185. Monoson argues that Plato’s critique is directed at the Thucydidean assessment of Pericles in particular. 84. Clavaud, Le M´enex`ene de Platon; his main conclusions are summarized 287– 89. 85. Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 3. Stern comments more pointedly (“Plato’s Funeral Oration,” 506): “. . . both Socrates’ and Pericles’ speeches are attributed to the courtesan Aspasia, because to praise the Athens of his day is an act of prostitution.” 86. As observed by Clavaud (Le M´enex`ene de Platon, 108– 10 and 246: “Aspasie lui sert-elle d’alibi”) and Coventry (“Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 3 and 5– 7). 87. See the summaries of the views of earlier scholars provided by Clavaud, Le M´enexe` ne de Platon, 33– 77. Add now Loraux (The Invention of Athens, esp. 312– 27) and Coventry (“Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 1– 5). Coventry is persuasive that the discrepancy between the ironical beginning and the seemingly serious end of the dialogue serves to highlight the superficiality and inconsistency of a state in which philosophy does not govern politics.

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Indeed, the ironic tone of the introductory prologue, which mocks both speakers and audience, makes it very difficult to believe that Plato means us to take the funeral oration in the Menexenus as an example of a genuine epitaphios. Socrates cynically “praises” the entire custom of funeral speeches (234c), on the grounds that every man thus obtains a splendid
funeral, even if he is poor or worthless (φαυλος). Also, they praise every one indiscriminately, and so bewitch (γοητευουσιν) their audience (234c– 235a);88 the jibe against Gorgias in particular is obvious. With all this eulogizing of his city, says Socrates (235a– b), he comes to believe that he himself has become taller, more noble, and more handsome (in the case of Socrates, this is certainly an ironical statement)89 and that the city too is more wonderful than before. This lofty feeling remains with Socrates for several days, until he realizes that he is not on the Isles of the Blessed but rather still on earth (235c).90 Not only is the illusion of immortality detrimental to the proper conduct of politics,91 but, in contrast to the illusory afterlife offered by rhetoric, philosophy offers an authentic preparation for the soul for its destiny.92 When Menexenus gently chides him for his mocking portrayal of the orators (235c), Socrates replies that the orators do not even bother to make up new speeches for each occasion but rather recycle old themes; after all, it is easy to praise Athenians to an audience of Athenians (235d). Asked if he could do any better (235e), Socrates hesitates at first, lest Menexenus think him an old man playing children’s games. When Menexenus persists, Socrates complies, claiming that he would have stripped off his clothes and danced if that had been requested of him (236d– e), and proceeds to repeat Aspasia’s funeral oration, which illustrates all the tendencies that he has just mocked. And so, the irony contained in the prefatory section prepares the reader for a satire of the oratorical tradition of the Athenian democracy as a whole. The epitaphios then serves as its own critic, with a heavy touch of irony to ensure that the reader would be forced to acknowledge the hypocritical portrait of Athens’s past created by the orators in service to a 88. On the bewitchment motif, see Loraux, “Socrate contrepoison de l’oraison fun`ebre,” 177– 89. de Romilly (Magic and Rhetoric, 31) comments that this passage illustrates “with splendid irony” how Plato uses the simile of magic against the orators and sophists. 89. Yunis, Taming Democracy, 152. 90. Cf. Gorgias 526c and Republic 519c. 91. As noted by Loraux, The Invention of Athens, 441 n. 14. 92. Rosenstock, “Socrates as Revenant,” 342– 43.

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democratic agenda. Nevertheless, Plato rarely explicitly controverts even the most outrageous and self-satisfied misrepresentations of the Athenian past, but rather subtly cuts the foundations out from under them. Although some authorities in antiquity recognized the irony contained in the Menexenus,93 it seems that the work was taken seriously by others,94 which adds to the impression that it is possible to take the Menexenus on more than one level. Plato is writing for an elite readership of like-minded aristocrats who are able to grapple with complex written texts and are unlikely to be seduced by the ephemeral flattery of the oratorical tradition of the Athenian democracy. This elite group would naturally have the ability to look beneath the surface and see that the irony of the Menexenus is designed as a bitter diatribe, not only against contemporary rhetoric,95 but also against the immorality of contemporary politics.96 Carl Werner Muller ¨ has recently argued that the Menexenus is a direct reply to Isocrates’ Panegyricus as the exemplar of Athenian patriotic oratory.97 Certainly Plato disapproved of the kind of oratory that the Panegyricus represents, but there is no way to prove that it was in fact his target. It does make sense, however, that Plato would have chosen to attack patriotric rhetoric some time not long after the end of the Corinthian War in 387/6. One wonders if the Athenians’ renewed imperial aspirations, which culminated in the formation of the Second Athenian Confederacy in the early 370s, may have provided the occasion for Plato’s attack on patriotic rhetoric, which he may have held responsible for the renascent empire. The survey of the past contained in the Menexenus is an integral part of Plato’s thinly disguised attack on contemporary rhetoric and politics. By providing a pastiche of the typical funeral oration that takes to extremes many of the usual features of the epitaphios, he shows how Athenian orators and politicians misrepresent the past to their own advantage. For Plato, the patriotic lie is unacceptable, because it flatters people rather than making them better; distortion of history is permitted only when it is morally useful. By means of obvious exaggerations, which he immediately 93. E.g., Plutarch, Pericles 24.7. 94. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, in particular, devotes a long section of his essay on Demosthenes (23– 21) to very high praise of Plato for his encomium of Athens urging on the Athenians toward virtue. Clavaud (Le M´enex`ene de Platon, 17– 35) lists all the ancient allusions to the work. 95. Clavaud, Le M´enex`ene de Platon, 250. 96. Coventry, “Philosophy and Rhetoric in the Menexenus,” 1– 15. ¨ 97. Carl Werner Muller, ¨ “Platon und der ‘Panegyrikos’ des Isokrates: Uberlegungen zum platonischen ‘Menexenus,’” Philologus 135 (1991): 140– 56.

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undercuts, internal inconsistencies throughout the epitaphios, and the blatant and deliberate anachronism, he subtly exposes the lack of substance to the pretensions to virtue created by the Athenian orators to pander to the demos. Thus, his ironic attribution to the Athenians of noble and altruistic behavior reveals all the more clearly that their self-image as protectors of the weak and oppressed serves only to justify their imperialism, both past (with a nudge at Pericles in particular) and present. Furthermore, as the prologue to the Menexenus specifies, one of Plato’s reasons for derision of funeral orations as a whole is that they lump everyone together in their praise, even if it is not deserved (234c). Plato uses the misrepresentations of the past in the Menexenus to parody the transparent falseness of the idealized portrait of Athens in funeral speeches in particular and contemporary rhetoric in general and to criticize the refusal of both rhetoricians and politicians to use their influence over their audiences for the purpose of moral instruction.

chapter three

Xenophon’s Hellenica


X

enophon’s Hellenica is notorious for omissions of fact and inequalities of treatment.1 These flaws could be explained by the theory that Xenophon wrote different sections at different times, without fully unifying it as a whole. Nevertheless, the Hellenica is coherent as it stands, and Xenophon is certainly consistent in his views on moral virtue throughout; I therefore treat it as a unified whole.2 In the past, the facile explana1. Unless otherwise specified, all references to Xenophon in this chapter are from the Hellenica. 2. It is a longstanding debate whether or not Xenophon wrote his Hellenica as a continuous whole, in view of the distinctive differences between 1– 2.3.10 in particular and the rest of the work. The definitive expression of the “analysts’” viewpoint, that Xenophon composed the different sections of the Hellenica at different times, is that of Malcolm MacLaren (“On the Composition of Xenophon’s Hellenica,” AJP 55 [1934]: 121– 39, 249– 62). The strongest arguments for the opposite camp, the “unitarians,” who believe that Xenophon composed the Hellenica as a unified whole, are made by W. P. Henry (Greek Historical Writing: A Historiographical Essay Based on Xenophon’s Hellenica [Chicago: Argonaut, 1967]). Because Xenophon must have written much of the Hellenica long before the time of the Battle of Mantinea (the last event contained in this work), there are necessarily slight variations in language and expression. These need not, however, obscure the essential unity of the work in purpose and methods; see also W. E. Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian: The Problem of the Individual and the Society of the Polis (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1977), 99– 127 and Vivienne Gray (The Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica (London: Gerald Duckworth, 1989), esp. 178– 82.

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tion of a pro-Spartan, anti-Theban bias was often invoked;3 more recent examinations, however, have led scholars to question so simple an explanation of Xenophon’s purpose and method.4 The moral and didactic purpose of the Hellenica has been recognized by other scholars5 but not explicitly connected to its alleged shortcomings. I argue that many of the omissions of fact and inequalities of treatment contained in the Hellenica stem not so much from a pro-Spartan, anti-Theban bias as from Xenophon’s desire to use lessons from the past for the moral instruction of his fellow aristocrats. I begin by examining three of the best-known omissions to see whether they can in fact be attributed to moralizing rather than to bias alone. I then proceed to a review of the passages in which Xenophon specifically lists some of his criteria for selection of material, with the aim of ascertaining the extent to which the desire to provide moral instruction governs his choices. Following this preliminary examination, it is necessary to determine what are the moral virtues with which Xenophon is chiefly concerned in the Hellenica, and then to proceed to a survey of his methods of instructing the reader in these moral virtues. Finally, I attempt to ascertain to what extent Xenophon can be found to have shaped the past to his own ends for moralizing purposes and what message he was trying to convey by doing so. Our three omissions, the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy, the foundation of Megalopolis, and the refoundation of Messene, are usually attributed to Xenophon’s alleged pro-Spartan, anti-Theban bias; the latter two in particular have been considered attempts to deny Epaminondas his rightful due.6 Yet, if one examines the narrative in which scholars believe that Xenophon ought to have included these events, it 3. See, e.g., J. B. Bury, The Ancient Greek Historians, (London: Macmillan, 1908; reprint, New York: Dover, 1958), 152. 4. Most recently, see Christopher Tuplin, The Failings of Empire: A Reading of Xenophon Hellenica 2.3.11– 7.5.27, Historia Einzelschriften 76 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1993) with a useful summary of earlier views on Xenophon’s purpose, 14– 18, and John Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times (London: Routledge, 1995). 5. C. H. Grayson, “Did Xenophon Intend to Write History?” in The Ancient Historian and His Materials: Essays in Honour of C. E. Stevens on His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Barbara Levick (Westmead, Farnborough, Hants: Gregg International, 1975), 31– 43; George Cawkwell, introduction and notes to Xenophon: A History of My Times (Hellenica), trans. Rex Warner (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1979), 42– 46; and Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica. 6. E.g., by Cawkwell, Xenophon, 36.

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becomes apparent that his motive for excluding them is different in each case and cannot simply be attributed to the general category of a proSpartan, anti-Theban bias. In the case of the Second Athenian Confederacy, modern scholars tend to criticize Xenophon for not placing an account of its foundation either before or after the raid of Sphodrias.7 Yet, both the epigraphical evidence and Diodorus (15.25.1– 29.8) indicate that the foundation of the confederacy involved a gradual series of diplomatic negotiations rather than a single abrupt maneuver.8 Consequently, the question of whether the confederacy was founded as a result of the raid of Sphodrias or vice versa is a red herring, in that it implies that Athens made a decision at one particular time to create a Second Athenian Confederacy. Our evidence points to the conclusion that the passing of the so-called Charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy was merely the formalization of a process that had already been going on for some five years.9 Therefore, it is not strictly fair to criticize Xenophon for his failure to indicate in one specific place the result of an ongoing process. Nevertheless, it is odd that he does not mention the chief achievement of Athenian foreign policy in the years following the conclusion of the Corinthian War. Also, he does more than leave out an account of the formal structure of the foundation of the confederacy when he implies that the Athenians were isolated immediately before the liberation of the Cadmea (5.3.27), in apparent contradiction to the epigraphical evidence. Furthermore, in the only passage in which he specifically mentions Athenian allies, he is at pains to contrast the fact that Athens and her allies swear an oath individually, with the insistence of the Spartans that they do so on behalf of their allies (6.3.19). There is certainly nothing in the Hellenica to suggest that the Athenians, as heads of a confederacy, were entitled to take collective action on behalf of their allies. 7. For arguments supporting a date before the raid, see, e.g., Charles D. Hamilton, “Isocrates, IG ii2 43, Greek Propaganda and Imperialism,” Traditio 36 (1980): 100; for after, see, e.g., Jack Cargill, The Second Athenian League: Empire or Free Alliance? (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1981), 58– 59. 8. Hermann Bengtson, Die Staatsvertr¨age des Altertums, vol. 2 (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1962– 69), nos. 248 (Athenian alliance with Chios), 256 (Byzantium), 257 (the “Aristoteles Decree” or so-called Charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy), 258 (Methymna), 259 (Chalcis), and perhaps 255 (if one can accept this highly fragmentary inscription as an alliance between Athens and Thebes). 9. I follow in the main the interpretation of R. M. Kallet-Marx (“Athens, Thebes, and the Foundation of the Second Athenian League,” ClAnt 4 (1985): 127– 51).

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The traditional explanation for Xenophon’s failure to mention the confederacy is that he considered it an affront to Sparta.10 Since his narrative of this period contains some very pointed criticism directed at Sparta (as we shall see), however, this view does not appear sufficient. An examination of the section of Xenophon’s narrative in which modern scholars believe that he ought to have mentioned the foundation of the confederacy may shed some light on the reason for its omission. After the military successes of Sparta against Phlius and Olynthus (5.3.1– 26), Xenophon comments (5.3.27) that the hegemony of the Spartans seemed in every way to have been fully and securely established


     (πανταπασιν ηδη καλως κα ι ασφαλω ς η αρω η ε δοκει αυτοι ς κατεσκευασθαι). It is tempting to consider this comment as a warning signal that nemesis is soon to fall upon the Spartans for the complacency and conceit engendered by their great good fortune, in the same way that Herodotus, for example, signals the impending doom of Croesus (1.29.1).11 Xenophon’s next sentence confirms this interpretation, for he states that divine retribution for the Spartan seizure of the Cadmea and installation of a puppet regime of pro-Spartan tyrants was both imminent and deserved (5.4.1). His condemnation of the Spartans in breaking the oath which they swore in the King’s Peace that they would leave the other cities independent, is expressed in strong language for a man who is alleged to have a proSpartan (and anti-Theban) bias, and is one of only two examples of explicit denunciation of impiety in the Hellenica.12 Xenophon then proceeds to an account of how a band of seven Theban exiles liberated their city by dressing up as women and slaughtering at a banquet those responsible for the Spartan occupation (5.4.2– 12), which he tells in much more detail than is necessary for general historical purposes. For example, when the Theban exiles arrive at the house of the proSpartan Leontiades, they find him sitting with his wife who is doing some work with wool (5.4.7). The detail of the wool is irrelevant to the plot, but emphasizes the respectability of the wife, whose life is spared although Leontiades is killed. Implicitly, Xenophon indicates a moral contrast between the brutality of the action of the assassins and the respectable domesticity of Leontiades’ wife. There is also the use of the number seven, 10. E.g., Cawkwell, Xenophon, 285. 11. Donald Lateiner, “A Note on the Perils of Prosperity in Herodotus,” RhM 125 (1982): 97– 101. 12. The other is 4.4.2– 3; for a fuller discussion of these episodes, see my “Condemnation of the Impious in Xenophon’s Hellenica,” HTR 91 (1998): 251– 77.

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traditional in folktales,13 although another version existed in which there were twelve conspirators (Plutarch, Pelopidas 8). The pattern of this story is reminiscent of that of Herodotus’ description of the murder of the Persian envoys by Alexander of Macedon (5.18– 21),14 which also indicates the possibility that Xenophon is embroidering his account. Xenophon’s comment on the existence of an alternative version, in which the killers were dressed as revellers (5.4.7), indicates that he did indeed narrate what he considered to be the more useful as a moral paradigm of the versions of the incident available to him. One of the arguments used by those who believe that Xenophon has an anti-Theban bias is his failure to mention Pelopidas in his account of the liberation of the Cadmea.15 The main evidence we have, however, for Pelopidas’s leadership comes from Plutarch’s Life (Pelopidas 7– 13),16 which is subject to a certain tendency to treat the hero more favorably in his own Life than in other Lives in which he may appear.17 Yet, in his De genio Socratis, Pelopidas seems to play no larger role than the other conspirators.18 Furthermore, Diodorus does not mention Pelopidas in his account of the liberation of the Cadmea (15.25) and only attributes to him the role of leader in this undertaking in his eulogy (15.81.1). Perhaps Pelopidas’s role in the liberation of the Cadmea was somewhat exaggerated in the wake of his later success. Since Xenophon’s detailed narrative of this episode appears to indicate an interest in it, it is not reasonable that he would have denied Pelopidas his rightful due if he had in fact been the leader. By narrating this incident with close attention to detail, Xenophon gives it emotional content in order to provide a better moral example of how the treachery of the polemarchs in handing over the city to the Spartans was punished and hints at divine retribution. Thus, his narrative appeals to the imagination over the intellect, so that the moral lesson might be more memorable. 13. On the traditional nature of the number seven, see Gray (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 203 n. 1), with examples from Herodotus. 14. Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 65– 70, and Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 229– 30. 15. E.g., Cawkwell (Xenophon, 279): “Xenophon does not even name him and his account is therefore ‘Hamlet without the Prince.’” 16. Cornelius Nepos (Pelopidas 2.5) follows suit. 17. On “biographical distortion” in Plutarch’s account of Pelopidas’s subsequent career, see J. Buckler, “Plutarch on the Trials of Pelopidas and Epameinondas (369 b.c.),” CP 73 (1981): 36– 42. 18. Plutarch mentions Pelopidas by name only at 576a, 577a, 594e, 595c, 595d, 596d, 597e, and 597f.

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Xenophon now records the invasion of Boeotia by the Spartan army under Cleombrotus (5.4.13– 18) and the raid of Sphodrias (5.4.19– 24). At this point, he turns aside briefly from strictly military affairs in order to recount the anecdote of how Agesilaus’s son, Archidamus, through love of Sphodrias’s son Cleonymus, puts pressure on his father to intervene (5.4.25– 33). After Sphodrias is acquitted, Cleonymus more than compensates for his father’s shortcomings, for he proceeds to act in all things in a

  καλα ε ν τ η Σπα ρτ η) and way befitting a Spartan (ζων απαντ’ ε ποι ει οσα even dies protecting his king on the battlefield at Leuctra (5.4.33). This story reveals how Archidamus’s faith in his friend is eventually rewarded by the way Cleonymus exemplifies Spartan virtue and places loyalty to the king ahead of his own life. Strictly speaking, of course, this incident has nothing to do with divine vengeance for the Spartans’ impiety. It seems, however, that Xenophon seizes the opportunity to point out moral virtue. Following this anecdote, Xenophon returns to his narrative to tell how the Athenians join with the Thebans against the Spartans (5.4.34). Again, it is odd that he does not mention the confederacy at this point,19 for the Athenians now help the Thebans in the first official joint action since the Thebans were admitted to the confederacy.20 At the points at which it would be reasonable to include an account of the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy, Xenophon’s motive for omission appears to be not so much a pro-Spartan bias as a desire to moralize. As part of his aim of showing how the Spartans met with divine retribution, he includes two moral exempla: the Theban exiles’ revenge on the pro-Spartans and the acquittal of Sphodrias through Archidamus’s love for Cleonymus. The two anecdotes culminate in the humiliation of Sparta at Leuctra, to which Xenophon makes explicit reference at the end of the Cleonymus story (5.4.33). In this way, the reader’s attention is brought back to the main point in this section, divine retribution for Sparta’s impious action. It is presumably as a result of his desire to make this moral point that Xenophon neglects to mention the fact that by this time the Athenians had established themselves at the head of a newly 19. See, e.g., Cawkwell, Xenophon, 285. 20. Both Plutarch (Pelopidas 15.1) and Diodorus record the admission of the Thebans to the confederacy after the raid of Sphodrias (15.29.7), slightly later than that of Chios, Byzantium, Rhodes, and Mytilene (15.28.3). Thebes is listed in the first group of names at the bottom of the so-called Charter of the Confederacy (Bengtson, Staatsvertr¨age, no. 257), and a fragmentary inscription (Bengtson, Staatsvertr¨age, no. 255), may contain the text of an official Athenian-Theban alliance.

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formed naval confederacy. It should be noted, however, that the Athenian democracy does not come off well in this episode, for the Athenian troops, the nature of whose support of the Theban exiles Xenophon leaves unclear (cf. Diodorus 15.26.1), fail to prevent the Thebans from breaking an oath and slaughtering their enemies, even butchering the children of their opponents (5.4.11– 12). Also, the Athenian demos is made to look foolish in its misinterpretation of Spartan intentions (5.4.22– 23) and divided into factions (esp. 5.4.34). Finally, Xenophon’s pointed omission of the culmination of Athens’s renascent imperialism and his reference to Leuctra, which dealt the death blow to the Spartan attempt at empire, make it a logical inference that he does not approve of imperialism. Xenophon’s failure to mention the foundation of Megalopolis as capital of the newly formed federation of Arcadia as a tangible symbol of Spartan weakness is also often attributed to his alleged pro-Spartan, antiTheban bias.21 This motivation, however, is somewhat undercut by the fact that he mentions the Megalopolitans explicitly later in his narrative (7.5.5), although he does so only to the extent of including them in a list of cities on which Epaminondas could count for support. It would be helpful to examine the sections in which scholars believe Xenophon ought to have included the foundation of Megalopolis, to see whether his omission is attributable to bias or to some other preoccupation. There is some uncertainty about the relative date of the foundation of Megalopolis. Some scholars believe it to be the eventual result of the formation of the Arcadian Confederacy, and criticize Xenophon for not mentioning it when he alludes to the organization of the latter with an account of some bloody civil strife at Tegea during the establishment of a “new order” in the Peloponnese, following the Spartan defeat at Leuctra (6.5.6– 9).22 Xenophon has, however, assumed the existence of the Arcadian Confederacy earlier (5.2.19). Moreover, he obviously takes considerable interest in this episode of civil strife at Tegea, as the fullness of his narrative of this relatively minor incident indicates (it occupies over a page of the Oxford text), most likely because of the violation of sanctuary and the physical damage to a temple.23 His preoccupation with these offenses 21. See, e.g., Cawkwell, Xenophon, 36– 37. 22. E.g., G. E. Underhill, A Commentary on the Hellenica of Xenophon (Oxford: Clarendon, 1900), 255– 56. 23. For a fuller discussion of this episode, see my “Condemnation of the Impious in Xenophon’s Hellenica,” 269– 72.

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probably prevents him from mentioning the foundation of Megalopolis when he alludes to the formation of the Arcadian Confederacy. Naturally, the formation of the Arcadian Confederacy and the decision to found Megalopolis may not be one and the same. Therefore, some scholars criticize Xenophon for not placing the foundation of Megalopolis at a later spot in the Hellenica.24 He returns to the Arcadians after his narrative of the second Theban invasion of the Peloponnese (7.1.23); at this point, he mentions Lycomedes for the first time, although he was certainly influential in the forming of the Arcadian Confederacy,25 and afterward served it as general.26 After a short character sketch, in which he describes Lycomedes as of aristocratic birth, wealthy, and ambitious be ε νδε ης     χρηµασ    sides (γενει τε ουδεν ος ι τε προηκων κα ι αλλως φιλοτιµος), Xenophon quotes (in indirect discourse) an inspirational speech to his fellow citizens (7.1.23– 24), in which he fills them with overconfidence    (φρονηµα). The terms φιλοτιµος and φρονηµα are both ambiguous. The root φιλοτιµ- can have good connotations in the Hellenica, as in the de scription of soldiers who are in the best physical condition as φιλοτιµοι (6.4.11), but K. J. Dover has shown how the identification of philotimia as patriotic behavior that is associated with virtuous action can “shade into  aggression, pride, and boastfulness.”27 Similarly, the meaning of φρονηµα 28 ranges from “pride” to “presumption.” Xenophon’s narrative of the rest of the episode indicates that the negative meaning of both terms is intended here. Puffed up with an inflated sense of their own importance as a result of Lycomedes’ speech, the Arcadians are presumptuous enough to take on not only the Thebans and the Eleans (7.1.25– 26) but the Spartan army as well (7.1.28– 29), resulting in the Tearless Battle, so named from the fact that while many Arcadians fell, not a single Spartan perished (7.1.29– 32).29 Xenophon records the report of some that thunder and lightning 24. E.g., Cawkwell, Xenophon, 364. 25. Diodorus 15.59.1 (where he mistakenly states that Lycomedes is from Tegea rather than Mantinea) and Pausanias 8.27.2. 26. Compare Diodorus 15.62.2– 3 to Xenophon 6.5.13– 19. 27. K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1974), 229– 33, quotation at 232; see also David Whitehead, “Competitive Outlay and Community Profit: φιλοτιµι α in Democratic Athens,” ClMed 34 (1983): 55– 74. 28. Cf. the examples given in LSJ. 29. Diodorus (15.72.3) and Plutarch (Agesilaus 33.3) give the battle this name; Xenophon, while not calling it the Tearless Battle, does comment (7.1.32) that the Spartans burst into tears when they heard of their victory.

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appeared in a clear sky, apparently in response to the hortatory words of Archidamus (7.1.31). The Spartan troops gain such confidence from this apparent divine sign that their initial impetus carries the day, with devastating results for the Arcadians. Xenophon concludes his narrative of the Tearless Battle with the comment (7.1.32) that the Thebans and the Eleans were no less pleased than the Spartans at the misfortune of the Arcadians,   ηχθοντο  for they too were offended by their presumption (ουτως ηδη ε π ι

   ν). The mention of the φρονηµα τω  φρονηµατι αυτω of the Arcadians  seems designed to recall the φρονηµα with which Lycomedes inspired them (7.1.23), and so seals off this section of the narrative with a sort of ring composition. In this section of his narrative, then, Xenophon’s overriding concern is to show how Lycomedes’ ambition and infusion of his fellow Arcadians  with φρονηµα led directly to their downfall at the hands of the Spartans. As we have seen, he even postpones mention of Lycomedes until Arcadia’s peripeteia in the Tearless Battle, where he can be introduced with the greatest dramatic effect. In this way, Xenophon grips the attention of the reader in order to make his moral point, that overweening pride leads to a fall. Therefore, in the two places in this section of his narrative where he mentions the Arcadians, he is preoccupied first with the acts of impiety committed during the civil strife in Tegea and then with the arrogance and downfall of the Arcadians under Lycomedes, and for this reason he does not include an account of the foundation of Megalopolis in either place. A third omission often attributed to an alleged pro-Spartan bias is the failure to mention the refoundation of Messene,30 resulting from the first Theban invasion of the Peloponnese.31 Again, bias does not appear sufficient to explain this omission, because Xenophon does refer to Messenians, in such a way as to indicate that Messene is distinct from Sparta, at later spots in his narrative (7.1.27, 36; 7.4.9). It would be useful to determine whether moral preoccupations are at play here too. Following his narrative of the events of the first Theban invasion of the Peloponnese (6.5.22– 32), Xenophon turns to Athens’s reaction, which 30. Underhill (Commentary on the Hellenica) and Cawkwell (Xenophon) both criticize Xenophon for his omission in their notes to 6.5.51, while J. Hatzfeld (X´enophon: Hell´eniques, 5th ed. 2 vols. [Paris: Belles Lettres, 1965– 66]) does so in his note to 7.1.27. 31. The main sources are Diodorus (15.66) and Pausanias (4.27). Carl Angus Roebuck (A History of Messenia from 369 to 146 B .C . [Chicago: University of Chicago Libraries, 1941], 31 n. 21) lists the other sources but notes that they “do little more than record the event.” Both Diodorus (15.66.1) and Pausanias (9.14.5) hail Epaminondas as founder.

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culminates in a meeting of the Assembly (6.5.33). The final speech is the long and eloquent oration of Procles the Phliasian (6.5.38– 48), which finally convinces the Athenians that they should go out in aid of the Spartans in full force (6.5.49). Procles is clearly a character of interest to Xenophon, since he assigns to him two of the longest speeches in direct  discourse in the Hellenica (and mentions him at 5.3.13 as a ξενος of Agesilaus). He devotes most of his first speech to an appeal to the common sense of the Athenians by arguing that it is in their interests to help the Spartans in their time of need (6.5.38– 46). He concludes this speech, however, with an impassioned plea in the tradition of Athenian patriotic oratory for the Athenians not to abandon their glorious policy in the legendary past of going to the aid of the oppressed, and cites the usual examples of the Seven against Thebes and the Heracleidae (6.5.46– 48). Attention has often been drawn to the similarity of this section to Isocrates’ Panegyricus (4.54– 60),32 but because these are frequent topoi, we need not posit any direct influence. The Athenians respond enthusiastically to Procles’ appeal, but their campaign is so unsuccessful that Xenophon makes one of his rare first-person condemnations of the uncharacteristically incompetent tactics of Iphicrates (6.5.51– 52), whose generalship he had had occasion to praise extensively earlier (6.2.27– 39). As Plato does in the Menexenus, Xenophon uses his subsequent narrative to undermine Athenian patriotic claims. In Procles’ second speech, placed almost immediately after his first, he urges the Athenians to accept a proposal put forward by the Corinthians to divide the responsibility for leadership in the newly formed alliance between Sparta and Athens (7.1.2– 11). He concludes his speech by saying (7.1.11) that a division of the leadership by land and sea is not only the most expedient for both Athens and Sparta but also in the best interests of all. It is worth noting also that Procles makes several references to the gods (7.1.2, 5, 6, 9), attributing military success to divine rather than human achievement; we have seen already in chapter 1 that piety is an important virtue for Xenophon. Despite the Athenians’ enthusiastic acceptance of his proposal, their minds are easily changed by a short rebuttal by the Athenian Cephisodotus. In a short reply, the peroration of which consists of an extended rhetorical question, he persuades his fellow citizens to act purely 32. Underhill, Commentary on the Hellenica, 266; John Buckler, “Xenophon’s Speeches and the Theban Hegemony,” Athenaeum 60 (1982): 180– 204, at 194– 95; Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 115.

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on the basis of self-interest and to share with Sparta supreme command of both land and sea for five-day periods in turn (7.1.12– 14). Procles’ second speech, like his first, underlines the incompetence of the Athenian demos, this time seduced against their better judgment by the demagogic appeal of Cephisodotus. Procles has personal ties with Agesilaus (5.3.13) and is from Phlius, an oligarchic city-state for which Xenophon expresses great admiration (7.2.1); therefore, he is likely to agree in principle with the political statements the Phliasian espouses.33 Moreover, the sentiments that he expresses are clearly morally superior to the self-interest espoused by Cephisodotus,34 and his references to the gods also put him on the moral high ground. Therefore, in the places where Xenophon might have mentioned an important result of the Theban invasion of that year, he chooses instead to use Procles’ speeches to illustrate the folly and incompetence of the Athenian democrats, led by demagogues, and the illusory nature of the standard Athenian patriotic claims. Our examination of three of Xenophon’s more notorious omissions, the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy, the foundation of Megalopolis, and the refoundation of Messene has revealed that they are not due simply to a pro-Spartan, anti-Theban bias. First of all, Xenophon does not disguise their effect, since his narrative of the 370s and the 360s assumes the reader’s knowledge of these events, which could hardly have escaped the notice of his contemporaries.35 Second, at the points at which modern scholars believe he ought to have mentioned these events, he chooses to narrate an episode containing material suitable for moral edification. Nevertheless, it is odd that he does not mention the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy, the foundation of Megalopolis, or the refoundation of Messene at some later point in his narrative, after he has taught his moral lesson. Xenophon, it seems, intended to give the impression that he judged the accurate depiction of some of the political changes of the 370s and 360s (particularly when they involved events detrimental to Spartan interests) to be of less import to the moral instruction of his 33. On the political aspects of Procles’ speeches, see Joachim Dalfen, “Xenophon als analytiker und kritiker politischer Rede (Zu Hell. VI 3, 4– 17 und VI 5, 33– 48),” GrazBeitr 5 (1976): 59– 84; and Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 110– 17. 34. Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 112– 21, and Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 247– 48. 35. See also Grayson, “Did Xenophon Intend to Write History?” 32, and Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian, 175 n. 136; thus J. K. Anderson’s (Xenophon [London: Gerald Duckworth, 1974], 170– 71) claim that Xenophon would have received no information about these events in his “comfortable backwater” of Scillus does not hold water.

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readers than the highlighting of individual incidents. Nonetheless, the very opportunity for moral edification gave him the excuse not to mention matters that were unpalatable to him, such as the success of the Athenian democracy in its renewed aspiration for an overseas empire and actions highlighting Spartan weakness. Although the moral issue is uppermost in these episodes, they are not altogether free of political import. These three omissions indicate that Xenophon engages in deliberate selection of material. We must now examine passages in which he specifically lists some of his criteria for selection of material, in order to determine what he considers most worthy of narration. On one occasion, he explicitly states that he includes certain events in his narrative while excluding others. This passage occurs at the point where he has completed his account of events on land from 394/3 to 387/6 and now proceeds to recount the naval operations of these years separately. He says (4.8.1) that he will set down only those events that are worthy of mention, while passing over those
 µ εν  αξιοµνηµονε    δ ε which are not (των πρα ξεων τας υτους γραψω, τας      µ η αξιας λογου παρησω). The distinction between events that are “worthy of mention” and those which are not must be inferred from an examination of Xenophon’s narrative, since he provides no definition. Xenophon begins his narrative of the naval operations of the period by describing briefly the activities of Conon and Pharnabazus after the Battle of Cnidus (4.8.1– 3). He does not give an account of the battle itself, the most significant naval victory of the 390s, perhaps because he has already mentioned it, although out of context, in his narrative of land events of the period, where he is more concerned with Agesilaus’s reaction to this devastating news than with the actual events of the battle (4.3.10– 14), and perhaps because a naval battle won by an Athenian in command of a Persian fleet held little value for the purposes of the moral education of the elite. He emphasizes the fact that the cities on the islands and on the coast of Asia Minor welcomed Conon and Pharnabazus because their policy was to drive out the Spartan harmosts and leave the cities autonomous, and then contrasts the resentment of much of Asia Minor against high-handed Spartan behavior with the fact that the Spartan Dercylidas had managed to keep the city of Abydus loyal, in spite of the Spartan defeat at Cnidus. Xenophon gives Dercylidas a speech, in oratio recta, the main point of which is that those who show themselves loyal friends at the worst of times gain more honor than fair-weather friends (4.8.4). Dercylidas convinces the people of Abydus that they should continue to support Sparta and, by using similar arguments, is equally successful in keeping Sestus loyal

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(4.8.5). When Pharnabazus arrives in the area, he is unable to sway the people of Sestus and Abydus away from Sparta by force (4.8.6). Although it seems that this portion of Xenophon’s narrative points to the moral that effective military leadership can be achieved through the use of reasoned arguments rather than force,36 the events of the following section show that the sentiments expressed by the Spartans are illusory and deceptive. The next section is devoted to a description of Spartan negotiations for peace with Persia (4.8.12– 17), although a peace conference at Sparta that took place around this time is omitted.37 Antalcidas, the Spartan spokesman, makes it clear that the Spartans are more than willing to hand over the Greeks of Asia Minor to the Persians (4.8.14). Although Dercylidas himself is a character of whom Xenophon approves (as we shall see later), his promises to the Greeks of Asia Minor are betrayed by the Spartan initiative for peace with Persia.38 Xenophon’s interest is next piqued by the character of the Spartan Thibron, sent to counter the hostile actions of the Persian satrap Struthas. Thibron has appeared earlier as a less than incisive leader (3.1.4– 7) and as unable to prevent his army from plundering the territory of his allies (3.1.8, 10, 3.2.1). Xenophon contrasts unfavorably Thibron’s treatment of his allies with that of Dercylidas (3.1.10 and 3.2.1), although there are some indications that the latter was not as effective a leader as Xenophon indicates.39 His criticism of Thibron continues in this episode. Struthas notices that Thibron is inclined to make his raids in a disorderly and overconfident
  κτως κα ι καταφρονητικως) and resolves to storm his camp. manner (ατα Xenophon then shows Thibron to be so unconcerned with the safety of the men under his command that he has retired to his tent with Thersander the flute player,40 apparently without having taken precautions for adequate sentry duty (4.8.18). The camp is taken by surprise, and Thibron and 36. But cf. Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 9. 37. See my “Presbeis Autokratores: Andocides’ De pace,” Phoenix 49 (1995): 140– 49. 38. Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 76– 77. 39. See Peter Krentz, Xenophon: Hellenika II.3.11– IV.2.8 (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1995), 161, 167, 169, and 171. Krentz (“Thibron and the Thirty,” AncW 15 [1987]: 75– 79) suggests that Xenophon treats Thibron less favorably than other sources in order to disassociate himself from his former commander’s
actions. 40. Marchant’s text retains the διασκηνων of the manuscripts, although Hatzfeld and Karl Hude, ed. Xenophon: Hellenika (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1934, reprint 1969) accept Riekher’s  emendation of δισκευων, as does Rex Warner in his translation. Given the fact, however, that Xenophon explicitly commends
Diphridas in contrast with Thibron for his self-control over pleasures of the flesh, διασκηνων seems the more likely reading. See now Clifford Hindley, “Eros and Military Command in Xenophon,” CQ n.s., 44 (1994): 347– 66.

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Thersander are the first to fall, while a large number of the Spartans perish in the rout that follows (4.8.19). Xenophon’s inclusion of circumstantial details—such as the fact that Thibron took his fateful nap following the noon meal, as well as a short character sketch of Thersander—indicates his particular interest in this episode. Because Thibron was occupied with Thersander, he was dilatory in coming to the aid of his forces, which were under attack by Struthas. Thibron’s fate seems intended to point a moral lesson to the reader of the dire consequences that can befall a leader who pursues his own pleasure in neglect of his duties, a sure sign of lack of self-control. Xenophon now contrasts Thibron with his successor, Diphridas. He explicitly says (4.8.21) Diphridas was successful and implies that the reason was because he was a more organized and enterprising general and, unlike Thibron, bodily pleasures did not rule him (4.8.22). With his awareness of the importance of order and his self-control, Diphridas possesses the very qualities that Thibron lacks, and therefore prospers. Xenophon thus counteracts his negative example of Thibron with the positive example of Diphridas. After a quick background sketch of events in Rhodes (4.8.20– 24), Xenophon now turns to Thrasybulus of Steiria, who is sent out to look after Athenian interests in Rhodes (4.8.25). On his way to Rhodes, on his own initiative, he ravages the south coast of Asia Minor and collects contributions from various cities, including Aspendus. Here, however he meets his doom, for the inhabitants of Aspendus cut him down by night in retaliation for the unjust plundering of their lands by his soldiers (4.8.30).41 Xenophon seems to have been interested in Thrasybulus, whom he characterizes

 ε ι ναι).  ηρ  αγαθ  (4.8.31) as a good man by reputation (µαλα δοκων αν ος Virtue by reputation alone, however, is not sufficient and Thrasybulus’s death occurs as a direct result of his failure to follow orders and his inability to ensure good order, and therefore moral behavior, among his soldiers.42 Moreover, one wonders if his imperialistic activities immediately preceding his death may, in Xenophon’s mind, have contributed to his downfall. Xenophon now turns to some skirmishing between Iphicrates and 41. The cause of indignation of the Aspendians is more explicit in Diodorus 14.99.4. Cf. similar episodes (with similar results) in the Anabasis (5.4.16– 18 and 5.4.14– 16) with Dillery’s commentary (Xenophon and the History of His Times, 82– 83). 42. Pace Robert J. Buck (Thrasybulus and the Athenian Democracy: The Life of an Athenian Statesman, Historia Einzelschriften 120 [Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1998], 118), who argues that this statement is one of praise.

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Anaxibius, Dercylidas’s replacement (4.8.32– 39). It should be noted that Xenophon states that Dercylidas was replaced not through any fault of his own, but because Anaxibius had friends in high places (4.8.32), which hints that his abilities are less than those of his predecessor. Our expectations are not disappointed, for Xenophon describes how Iphicrates cunningly sets up an ambush and catches Anaxibius by surprise. He also implies that Anaxibius could have averted disaster, citing a report that the Spartan commander deliberately ignored the result of an unfavorable sacri fice that day and proceeded on his headstrong (καταφρονησας) way (4.8.36). In return for his disregard of the omen, Anaxibius is caught in Iphicrates’ ambush and is killed, along with a good many of his men (4.8.38– 39). He does redeem himself somewhat by a brave and honorable death, for Xenophon describes him as urging those around him to leave him to die and save themselves. They, proving their loyalty, refuse and die with him. Thus, in addition to the negative example afforded by Anaxibius’s impiety in ignoring the results of the sacrifice, Xenophon is able to illustrate his courage and his ability to inspire loyalty among his followers even in dire misfortune. Just as this section opens with an example of the loyalty inspired by a good moral commander, so does it end. Xenophon turns to the heartwarming farewell given to Teleutias by his soldiers when Hierax arrives to replace him (5.1.3– 4). It is not made immediately evident to the reader what specifically these qualities of Teleutias were that instilled such admiration both in his troops and in Xenophon himself. Instead Xenophon describes in relative detail the naval operations in Piraeus of that year and the next (5.1.5– 13) and then returns to Teleutias, sent out again as commander of the Spartan fleet, when he addresses his troops in a speech, given in oratio recta (5.1.14– 17). At last Xenophon reveals what these qualities are that so endear Teleutias to those under his command, for he piously invokes the help of the gods both for himself and his soldiers and is unselfishly willing to share in the same or even greater hardships as his troops. After sacrificing, on the following day he carries out a successful surprise attack on the Piraeus (5.1.18– 21), and Xenophon then concludes this section of his narrative with a brief account of some further successes (5.1.23– 24). The implication is clear—a moral commander is also a successful one. At this point (5.1.25), Xenophon turns to the antecedents of the King’s Peace, joining together once more events by sea and by land. It is clear from his preceding narrative that what Xenophon considers “worthy

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of mention” are the attributes of a good moral commander. Good moral leaders are pious, just, and self-controlled. They are careful to follow their own orders and to keep good order among their troops, in whom they inspire loyalty even in times of misfortune. Dercylidas, Diphridas, and Teleutias provide concrete illustrations of some of the qualities that make up good moral commanders, while the fates of Thrasybulus, Anaxibius, and Thibron are all clearly deserved. A good (that is, moral as well as competent) commander will meet with success in the field, and conversely, a bad (immoral as well as incompetent) leader will meet with a reverse, or worse. Thus, the enlightening passage at the beginning of this section (4.8.1) shows that Xenophon is aware of deliberate selection of material and uses it to point out a moral lesson.43 Xenophon draws criticism not only for his omissions in the Hellenica, but also for alleged inequalities of treatment.44 This is to say that he is thought to have treated subjects of historical significance more cursorily than they deserved, while giving fuller treatment to matters of less historical significance. What is interesting is that Xenophon himself indicates specifically in three (or possibly four) places that the treatment accorded by him to certain subjects might be controversial in its fullness. The first of these passages occurs early in the Hellenica, during Xenophon’s narrative of Theramenes’ death. As Theramenes is dragged away from his refuge at the altar, he is alleged to have made two witticisms, which Xenophon repeats, albeit disclaiming responsibility for both (2.3.56).45 When Satyrus, whom Xenophon characterizes as most arrogant and shameless (2.3.54), tells Theramenes to be quiet or he will be sorry, he retorts (2.3.56): “And if I am quiet, won’t I still be sorry?” Later, when Theramenes has drunk the hemlock, he throws out the dregs, ex

claiming (2.3.56): “This to the noble Critias” (Κριτι α  τουτ’ εστω τω 
καλω  ).46 Xenophon then adds that he is aware that these sayings are not   ολογα) “worthy of mention” (αξι but that he considers it worthy of admiration when neither intelligence nor a sense of humor deserts someone’s soul in the face of death (2.3.56). Xenophon clearly feels it necessary to explain 43. Grayson, “Did Xenophon Intend to Write History?” 36; Cawkwell, Xenophon, 45; and Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 8– 9); pace Stephen Usher (The Historians of Greece and Rome [London: Hamish Hamilton, 1969], 97), who argues that this passage offers no criteria of selection. 44. E.g., Underhill (Commentary on the Hellenica, xi).  45. “It is said” (λεγεται) and “they say” (εφασαν). 46. On the implications of this phrase, see S. Usher, “This to the Fair Critias,” Eranos 77 (1979): 39– 42.

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the inclusion in his narrative of material not normally considered “worthy of mention.” The implication of this statement is that there are conventional subjects worthy of admission into a historical work and that the last words of Theramenes do not fit this category.47 As we have seen, however, Xenophon’s own criterion for that which is worthy of mention appears to be moral instructiveness, especially in the sphere of military and political affairs. Therefore, he justifies the inclusion of these bons mots by using Theramenes’ courage in the face of death as an example to his readers of moral achievement.48 The second passage in which Xenophon feels compelled to explain the inclusion of certain material reveals more explicitly that his primary criterion for worthiness of mention is moral instructiveness. It occurs at the end of the farewell scene between Teleutias and his men (5.1.4). Xenophon, after drawing the reader’s attention to his point by swearing “by Zeus” (να ι µα ∆ ι α), states that he is aware of the fact that in reporting the devotion of Teleutias’s men he is not describing an expenditure, a danger, or a stratagem   ολογον) worthy of mention (αξι but excuses himself on the grounds that   this is the most noteworthy (αξιολογ ωτατον) action of a man. The scene that Xenophon has just painted shows us the soldiers are devoted to Teleutias, and, as we have seen, he goes on to indicate that this happy state of affairs came about as a result of the latter’s moral leadership. Thus, Xenophon informs his reader that the effects which Teleutias achieved and the moral manner in which he did so are what he considers “worthy of mention.” This passage reveals more explicitly than the very similar Theramenes passage, that Xenophon considers it more important to illustrate moral virtue than to narrate strictly conventional subjects. The third passage in which Xenophon explains the reasons for his inclusion of material, which could be considered extraneous comes during his introduction to a section on the military exploits of the small state of Phlius (7.2.1),49 where he remarks that if a small city has accomplished 47. Peter J. Rahn, “Xenophon’s Developing Historiography,” TAPA 102 (1971): 497– 508, esp. 498– 99. 48. Courage in the face of death, of course, is a topos that did not originate with Xenophon. It is recurrent, for example, in the work of Herodotus, as demonstrated by Stewart Flory (“Arion’s Leap: Brave Gestures in Herodotus,” AJP 99 [1978]: 411– 21), who defines (411) the “brave gesture” motif as a case in which “a person faced with death performs some spirited but essentially unnecessary action which demonstrates contempt for danger.” Examples of similar witticisms in extremis in Xenophon include a certain Pasimachus, a Spartan cavalry commander (4.4.10), and Socrates (Apology 28). 49. Pace Tuplin (Failings of Empire, 36– 40), who contends that these passages add up to no clear indication of Xenophon’s program.

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many noble deeds, these are even more worthy of comment than those of great cities. The point of this section of Xenophon’s narrative is to show how the Phliasians remain loyal (oligarchic) allies of the Spartans in their darkest hour after Leuctra, although they themselves are hard pressed by their democratic exiles and the Argives and other anti-Spartan forces (7.2.1 and 7.3.1). It is likely, however, that Xenophon is somewhat misrepresenting the facts of the matter, for the author of a study of Phliasian politics suggests that they remained loyal to Sparta in the early 360s largely through fear of their most immediate enemy, Argos.50 It is possible that another passage, 2.4.27, belongs to the group.51 Here, Xenophon prefaces a stratagem of the engineer from the city to repel  an attack by the troops from the Piraeus, who were so overconfident (µεγα  ε φρονουν) as to attack the very walls of the city, with the comment, “if it is necessary to tell this too.” As this anecdote does serve to emphasize the presumption of the Piraeus faction, one wonders if this is another snide comment by Xenophon against the Athenian democrats. These passages reveal quite clearly that Xenophon is reacting against a historical tradition in which the expenditures, dangers, and stratagems of great cities are subjects “worthy of mention” in a historical work.52 He, on the other hand, is convinced that at least one of the purposes of his Hellenica is a moral one: to provide his readers with examples of moral achievement. Even noble deeds by relatively insignificant people can provide moral instruction. Therefore, he sometimes gives full treatment to matters that he believes to be of great moral significance, while passing over or treating less fully other subjects to subordinate them to a moral point. Thus, his preoccupation with moral matters does leave him open to charges of unevenness of treatment. Furthermore, it is worth noting that Xenophon underlines with these apologies his praise of a (professed) moderate oligarch, a Spartan commander, and an oligarchic ally of Sparta, while those who suffer by comparison are the democrats in Athens and, possibly, the democratic enemies of Phlius. The moral lessons in which Xenophon desires to instruct his readers are clearly not free of political import. It would be useful at this point to establish the moral virtues with 50. Ronald P. Legon, “Phliasian Politics and Policy in the Early Fourth Century b.c.,” Historia 16 (1967): 324– 37. 51. As suggested by Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 36– 37. 52. Rahn (“Xenophon’s Developing Historiography,” 501– 2) connects the tradition from which Xenophon disassociates himself with Thucydides.

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which Xenophon appears chiefly concerned in the Hellenica. These do not differ in the main from those for which he praises Agesilaus in his encomium of the Spartan king, where, as we have seen, moral virtue is closely entwined with military prowess. An instructive passage in terms of summing up the qualities with which Xenophon is chiefly concerned in the Hellenica (an almost identical passage appears at Agesilaus 1.27) occurs in the course of his description of Agesilaus’s training of his army at Ephesus (3.4.18): Wherever men revere the gods, train in matters of war, and practice obedience, how is it not likely that everything there be full of good hopes?53 The first moral virtue Xenophon mentions here is piety, and it is significant that he places it at the top of the list, as he does in the Agesilaus, while the second is application to matters of war, and the third is obedience to authority, virtues necessary for success in military affairs. All of these, significantly, are virtues characteristic of the Spartans, and ones manifested by the Spartan commanders of whom Xenophon approved, as we have seen above. If we examine the background to this passage, we see it is Agesilaus’s fair and just treatment of those under his authority that leads to their willingness to obey and his proper reverence for the gods, especially in contrast to the faithless Tissaphernes, that ensures his success in the campaign. Agesilaus makes all the proper sacrifices before proceeding on this expedition to Asia (3.4.3), keeps his oath to Tissaphernes to maintain the peace, in spite of the latter’s failure to do likewise (3.4.6), treats Lysander’s presumptuous behavior reasonably54 and forces him to desist by, among other measures, calling his attention to their friendship (3.4.7– 10); heeds an unfavorable sacrifice (3.4.15); inspires his troops to excel in their training by offering them prizes (3.4.16– 17); and is himself at their head as they dedicate their garlands to Artemis (3.4.18). The immediate result of Agesilaus’ piety and his ability to inculcate loyalty and willing obedience in his troops is a major Spartan victory in the Battle of Sardis (3.4.20– 24), for which the Persian king blames Tissaphernes and cuts off his head (3.4.25).

         
εν, πειθαρχε ι ν δ ε 53.
οπου
γαρ ανδρες θεους
µ εν σεβοιντο, τα δ ε πολεµικα
ασκοι  ε νταυθα παντα µεστα ε λπι δων αγαθω  ε ι κος  µελετω  εν, πως ουκ ν ε ι ναι; 54. Even Lysander is forced to admit (3.4.9):
“But perhaps you are
behaving in an even  συ ποιε ι ς η# ε γω επραττον).   ισως κα ι µαλλον ε ι κοτα more reasonable way than I was” (αλλ

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It has recently been suggested that Xenophon intends the results of this campaign not to match up to its elaborate preparations, which explains why it appears much less successful here than in the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (11.2– 12.1) or Diodorus (14.80.1– 5).55 But the preparations are the point of the passage, for Agesilaus’s own moral behavior and ability to instill the same in his troops are the reasons for his eventual success.56 Moreover, his narrative of this campaign in the Agesilaus is very similar (1.13– 15). This passage illustrates well the emphasis throughout the Hellenica of the necessity of proper behavior toward both the gods and human beings to achieve political and military success. Interestingly, this is the only place in the Hellenica where Xenophon makes this clear in his own voice.57 It is also significant that in the apparent palinodes contained at the end of the Respublica Lacedaemoniorum (14.7) and the Cyropaedia (8.8.7), he attributes the degeneracy and ensuing decline of both the Spartans and the Persians to the fact that they no longer obey either divine or human precepts. Now, however, it remains for us to see how Xenophon proceeds to instill these moral precepts in the reader. The most obvious method is a system of praise and blame. Xenophon does occasionally intrude into the Hellenica in his own persona, on certain occasions expressing praise or blame in order to teach a moral lesson. Instances of explicit praise on moral grounds, although not many, outnumber the cases of blame. In addition to the examples of Xenophon’s approval that we have seen above, he explicitly praises Agesilaus’s courage (although he does hint that his rashness on this occasion may have led to his being wounded) and piety (Agesilaus does not allow the enemy who had taken sanctuary in a temple to be harmed, and he takes pains to honor the deity despite his wounds), which result in Spartan victory in the Battle of Coronea (4.3.16– 21). Agesipolis, having promised his father Pausanias that he would be merciful to the Mantineans after the city’s capture, arouses such loyalty in the soldiers under his command that they refrain from touching their defeated opponents (unlike the Athenians, who are unable to restrain the Thebans from 55. Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 109– 14. 56. On Xenophon’s insistence on a moral basis for leadership and, conversely, that the leader’s own superiority in military prowess justifies his rule, see now Peter Hunt, Slaves, Warfare, and Ideology in the Greek Historians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 146– 53. 57. See 1.7.19 and 25 (Euryptolemus), 2.3.53 (Theramenes), 2.4.22 (Cleocritus), and 6.4.2 (Prothous); cf. Rudolf Dietzfelbinger, “Religiose ¨ Kategorien in Xenophons Geschichtsverst¨andnis,” WJA 18 (1992): 133– 45, esp. 136, 137– 38, and 143.

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committing atrocities upon their defeated opponents at 5.4.11– 12). Xenophon goes out of his way to record this incident as an example of obedience (πειθαρχι α) (5.2.6). He praises the Phliasian democrats twice during his account of the Spartan siege of their city, first for control of their appetite (5.3.21), and then for the courage of a certain Delphion (5.3.22), who is able to keep his fellow citizens loyal. Finally, Epaminondas draws praise from Xenophon for the inspiration of great loyalty in his troops (7.5.19– 20). These last two examples illustrate again how Xenophon is not motivated solely by a pro-Spartan, anti-Theban bias, for he is willing to point out virtue wherever he finds it. He does on occasion bestow blame on moral grounds. He denounces in strong language (4.4.2) the massacre of those in favor of peace at Corinth,   calling it “the most sacrilegious plan of all” (το παντων ανοσι ωτατον) because it takes place during a religious festival. When the conspirators continue their slaughter even of those who had taken refuge at the statues of the gods in the marketplace and at the altars of the gods, Xenophon charac  terizes them (4.4.3) as utterly sacrilegious (ανοσι ωτατοι) and their action  εβεια).  as impiety (ασ Denunciations of this vehemence are rare in the Hellenica. The only other example where Xenophon uses comparable lan
guage is his placing of the Spartans in the category of the impious (των
    οσια ασεβο υντων) and of those who commit unholy acts (των αν ποιο58  υντων), for their unlawful seizure of the Cadmea (5.4.1). Unfortunately for our purposes, it is not his usual practice to comment explicitly upon moral or immoral actions. Xenophon prefers to teach virtue by example, and indeed is the first historian to make the moral paradigm the central focus of his work.59 This is why he shows how the pious actions and concern for those under their command of such commanders as Agesilaus and Teleutias arouse devotion in their troops, and makes it clear that these moral virtues explain their military success as well. Some scholars have deduced from Xenophon’s use in particular of various commanders to illustrate virtue that he is chiefly concerned in the Hellenica with the portrayal of good military leadership.60 This theory does not sufficiently take 58. Grayson (“Did Xenophon Intend to Write History?” 36– 37) gives a partial list of Xenophon’s intrusions in his own persona. The list provided here is a complete list of the places in the Hellenica in which Xenophon explicitly expresses praise or blame on moral grounds. 59. See now Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, esp. 123– 76. 60. H. R. Breitenbach (Die historiographische Anschauungsformen Xenophons [Freiburg: Paulusdruckerei, 1950]) is the originator of this theory, although he concedes in his RE article (“Xenophon,” RE 9A [1967], 1700) that this is not the key to the whole Hellenica.

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into account, however, the overall moral and political aim of the Hellenica. Despite his own absence from political affairs in Athens after the turn of the century as a result of military service and then exile,61 Xenophon insists it is the duty of a capable aristocrat to take part in public life (Memorabilia 3.7). He therefore selects military commanders in particular as his paradigms, in order to show the young aristocrat, whose duty it is to serve his city, the concrete results of good moral behavior. Xenophon also uses negative exempla to illustrate moral failures, probably because, for a writer of paradigmatic history, such exempla offered the most effective method of expressing disapproval. Some critics claim silence is Xenophon’s chief means of censure,62 but it is not his usual practice to impose his own views directly; instead, he allows the reader to make the necessary inferences.63 He makes it clear throughout that individuals who commit moral wrongdoings do not meet with success, for almost every moral offense that he mentions in his narrative is almost immediately followed by the destruction of the guilty. Many examples of negative exempla occur in the Hellenica, but we shall consider in detail two, which are illustrative of his technique in general. A good example of the failure to exercise moral leadership is the case of Mnasippus, a Spartan admiral. Upon being sent on campaign to Corcyra, Mnasippus reveals his inability to keep good order among his troops, for  when they disdain he is unable to prevent their desire for luxury (τρυφη) drinking some plundered wine, unless it has a good bouquet (6.2.6). Xenophon does not mention τρυφη often, but the other two examples (Memorabilia 1.6.10 and 3.11.1) are clearly pejorative.64 The Mnasippus begins to mistreat the mercenaries under his command. First of all, he discharges some of them and owes the rest two months’ pay, although Xenophon says explicitly that despite his protests to the contrary, he did have the means to pay them (6.2.15– 16). Upon attack by the besieged Corcyraeans, Mnasippus orders his officers to lead forth the mercenaries. 61. We know little of Xenophon except that which we can extract from his own writings; the ancient biography of Diogenes Laertius is unreliable in many of its details. For a detailed reconstruction of his life, see Edouard Delebecque, Essai sur la vie de X´enophon (Paris: C. Klinckseik, 1957) (now somewhat dated). 62. E.g., Cawkwell, Xenophon, 43. 63. See, e.g., Bodil Due, “The Trial of the Generals in Xenophon’s Hellenica,” ClMed 34 (1983): 33– 44; Gerald Proietti, Xenophon’s Sparta: An Introduction, Mnemosyne Supplement 99 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1987), 108; and J. J. Moles, “Xenophon and Callicratidas,” JHS 114 (1994): 70– 84, at 83– 84. 64. Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 131– 32.

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When some of them retort it is difficult to keep the troops obedient when they are given no provisons, he strikes them, one with a staff and one with the spike of a spear (6.2.17– 19). Xenophon then makes the general observation that this is a situation not beneficial for battle, because the soldiers are dispirited and hostile to Mnasippus (6.2.19). Not surprisingly, the unenthusiastic troops are not able to sustain the attack and begin to flee, leaving Mnasippus with only a few men around him. Soon he falls at the hands of the Corcyraeans, a death that is directly attributable to his mistreatment of the men under his command (6.2.20– 23). The fact that Xenophon depicts so dramatically the deadly results of a high-ranking Spartan’s blatant disregard for the fair treatment of his troops should give some pause to proponents of the theory that he was motivated solely by a philo-laconian bias.65 Similarly, the argument that he is simply interested in presenting the paradigm of a bad commander ignores the moral dimension of the episode.66 Xenophon likewise uses negative exempla to illustrate in a concrete fashion the results of human disregard for the divine. A striking case where he reveals his disapproval indirectly by describing the fate of the wrongdoers concerns, once again, the small (at this time, oligarchic) city of Phlius. The Arcadians, Eleans, and some exiles storm Phlius without provocation and even kill one of the guards as he seeks sanctuary in the temple of Hera. The Phliasians, although caught unawares, fight extremely bravely and rout the enemy, killing eighty of them (7.2.5– 9). Xenophon concludes by describing the scene of the Phliasians’ relief at their safety, with the men clasping hands with one another, while the women, weeping all the while, bring them drink (7.2.9).67 This detail is gratuitous to the narrative, but it serves to create an emotional tie with the Phliasians, whose unexpected victory Xenophon implies to be the direct consequence of their stronger opponents’ act of impiety in failing to respect the sanctuary.68 65. Noted as long ago as 1896 by I. Bruns, Das literarische Portr¨at der Griechen im f¨ unften und vierten Jahrhundert vor Christi Geburt (Berlin: Wilhelm Hertz, 1896), 44. Dillery (Xenophon and the History of His Times, 164– 171) suggests that Mnasippus serves as a concrete example of the moral and military decline of the Spartans. 66. As argued by Peter Krafft, “Vier Beispiele des Xenophontischen in Xenophons Hellenika,” RhM 110 (1967): 103– 50, at 142– 44. 67. For the same mixture of joy and tears, see also 7.1.32 and Anabasis 4.7.21. This scene also evokes Homer, Iliad 6.484; see Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 132– 33. 68. For a discussion of all the cases where as impious act is followed by a disastrous result in the Hellenica, see my “Condemnation of the Impious,” 251– 77.

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Sometimes, Xenophon goes beyond indicating that the destruction of the guilty is attributable to an immoral action, but even makes divine retribution for moral wrongdoing explicit. Like Herodotus,69 Xenophon appears not to be concerned with one particular deity (or deities), but his terminology for “the divine” is both abstract and interchangeable, including the

  terms deity (δαιµονιον), fate (µοι ρα), divine (θει ον), god (θεος), and gods 70 (θεοι ). The first explicit instance of divine intervention occurs in the battle between the Thirty and the men from Phyle under Thrasybulus.71 The seer of Thrasybulus’ troops warns them not to attack until someone from their side has been killed., and he prophesies victory for them but death for himself (2.4.18). Then, as Xenophon says, “as though led on by some fate”   ο µοι ρας τινος  αγ   οµενος), (ωσπερ υπ he runs into the line of battle and is 72 slain by the enemy (2.4.19). Thrasybulus and his troops, with the gods on their side, are victorious, as prophesied, against the Thirty, who lose over seventy of their supporters in battle on that day, including their leader. The massacre at Corinth, an event that, as we have seen, had so profound an effect upon Xenophon that he denounces it in uncharacteristically vehement language (4.4.2– 3), is also followed by divine vengeance upon the guilty, signaled in the introduction to the episode with the observation that the gods (ο ι θεοι ) are not unmindful of those who are impious or who commit unholy acts (5.4.1). The survivors piously obey a portent and, eventually, succeed in summoning the Spartans to liberate the city, assisted  by fortune (τυχη) (4.4.5– 8).73 Xenophon describes in detail the deaths of the perpetrators of the massacre: trapped beside Corinth’s Long Walls, some climb up onto the walls and are killed after leaping down on the other side, others are slain in skirmishing by the foot of the walls, and still others are trampled by one another and suffocated (4.4.11). He now comments 69. See the (still important) discussion of Ivan M. Linforth, “Named and Unnamed Gods in Herodotus,” University of California Publications in Classical Philology 9 (1928): 201– 43. ´ 70. Jean-Claude Riedinger, Etude sur les Hell´eniques: X´enophon et l’histoire (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1991), esp. 250 n. 4. 71. Tuplin (Failings of Empire, 215) appends a list, with cross-references to Xenophon’s other works, of the incidents of divine intervention in the Hellenica. Tuplin’s list is superior to that of Marta Sordi (“I Caratteri dell’opera storiografica di Senofonte nelle Elleniche,” Athenaeum 29 [1951]: 273– 348, at 337 n. 1), who makes no distinction between statements that Xenophon himself makes and those that he attributes to historical characters. 72. Krentz (Xenophon: Hellenika II.3.11–IV.2.28, 144) suggests that Xenophon leaves the seer unnamed in order to emphasize the role of the divine in this episode.   73. 4.8.1: “Partly by fortune and partly by vigilance” (κα ι κατα τυχην κα ι κατ’ε πιµελειαν); cf. Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 69 and n. 17.

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 is providing the Spartans with an opportunity that the divine (ο θεος) beyond their prayers, for they are presented with a group of panic-striken enemies, actively helping in their own destruction (4.4.12). As Xenophon rhetorically asks, “how could anyone not believe that it was divine retribu

 αν  τις θει ον η γησαιτο;).  tion?” (πως ουκ Now the perpetrators of the massacre at Corinth are themselves massacred by the Spartans and, as Xenophon informs us (4.4.12), “so many fell in such a short time that men who were accustomed to seeing piles of grain, of planks, and of rocks, at that time looked upon piles of bodies.”74 Thus, Xenophon indicates that the perpetrators suffer immediate and terrible divine retribution as a consequence of their impious acts.75 Although Xenophon usually reveals the divine retribution striking the guilty soon after he narrates the offense, presumably so the reader will easily make the connection, sometimes divine justice is slow in coming. For example, the Spartan seizure of the Cadmea, denounced so vigorously at 5.4.1, is the most egregious example of a series of similar offenses by the Spartans, for which the gods eventually punish them at Leuctra,76 just over a decade later. In Xenophon’s account, the Spartans do not heed their fellow citizen Prothous’s advice to disband the army, as they swore to do in the peace of 371 (6.3.18– 19), and instead begin to make financial and diplomatic preparations for war against the Thebans. By citing the grounds for Prothous’s proposal (6.4.2), namely, “the gods will be most favorable and the cities least aggrieved,” Xenophon underlines its soundness. But the Spartan assembly, apparently not at all concerned with the prospect of breaking their oath, dismisses Prothous’s proposal as “nonsense.”77 At this point, Xenophon comments (6.4.2– 3): “For the deity, it seems, was already
 ε οικε, το δαιµονιον   leading them on” (ηδη γα ρ, ως η γεν). Thus, the Spartans are led on to destruction by divine intervention, just as the seer of Thrasybulus’s troops was led on into battle to defeat the Thirty (note that 74. Gray (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 154– 57) discusses the literary qualities that Xenophon employs in this episode to highlight the link between crime and divine punishment. ´ 75. Pace Riedinger (Etude sur les Hell´eniques, 252 and n. 3), who states that although there are other cases of equally serious impiety in the Hellenica, including this episode, the Spartans are the only ones to suffer divine punishment. Dietzfelbinger (“Religiose ¨ Kategorien,” 138– 39) also minimizes the role of the divine in this episode, arguing that Xenophon attributes the unexpected Spartan victory to divine intervention only because it can be explained in no more plausible way. 76. See, most recently, Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, esp. 221– 27 (cf., however, the cautionary remarks of Dietzfelbinger, “Religiose ¨ Kategorien,” 145). 77. Dillery (Xenophon and the History of His Times, 246 and n. 20) notes that Prothous serves as the Herodotean “tragic warner.”

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 αγω is the verb used in both cases). So Xenophon implies that the Spartans’ destruction at Leuctra occurs as a result of the their breaking of another oath, which reminds the reader of the unusual vehemence of his condemnation of them for the same offense at 5.4.1. In his narrative of the battle itself, Xenophon includes a particular concentration of supernatural occurrences: the doors of all the temples in the region open of their own accord, and the weapons disappear from the temple of Heracles (6.4.7). Perhaps the number of supernatural occurrences is intended to underline the magnitude of the disaster for the Spartans. In any case, Xenophon does report (6.4.7– 8) the opinion of some that these supernatural occurrences were devices of the leaders, but he immediately undercuts this skepticism by remarking that in the battle, everything turned out badly for the Spartans, while everything turned out well for the other side. The logical conclusion is that Xenophon reports these supernatural occurrences to reinforce his contention that the gods punish the Spartans at Leuctra for their impiety. In his account of the battle, Xenophon does mention one of the Theban modifications of the hoplite army that contributed to their victory, the deepening of the hoplite phalanx (6.4.12), but he does not give the real cause of the Spartan defeat, their inability to respond adequately to these innovations.78 The Spartans lost two detachments four years previously at Tegyra to the Thebans with their new Sacred Band, and so indeed had time to prepare themselves against their innovative opponents. Plutarch (Pelopidas 16– 17) and Diodorus (15.37.1– 2) recount this battle as a foreshadowing of Leuctra, but it does not appear in Xenophon’s narrative, perhaps to give prominence to Leuctra as the more crushing defeat and therefore the better moral lesson. Likewise, Xenophon does not mention the Spartan failure to react effectively to the military innovations of the Thebans but prefers to emphasize the divine vengeance against the Spartans for their seizure of the Cadmea.79 Lycomedes too is a victim of divine intervention in human affairs. After carrying out some negotiations with the Athenians, Lycomedes 78. G. L. Cawkwell (“Epaminondas and Thebes,” CQ n.s., 22 [1972]: 254– 78) comments (263): “it was not Cleombrotus that failed at Leuctra, but Spartanism.” On Xenophon’s presentation of the battle, see now Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 134– 38 (with recent bibliography). 79. It is also worth noting that Cleombrotus and the Spartans indulged in some wine before the battle (6.4.8); while Xenophon does not explicitly associate this tippling with a lack of self-control, he does cite a statement that the wine stimulated them somewhat, indicating that it may also have been partially responsible for their defeat.

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selects a certain ship out of the many available ones in which to sail home. He then tells the sailors to put him ashore wherever he should request. Unfortunately for Lycomedes, he chooses to land at the very spot where there happened to be some Arcadian exiles, who immediately put him to death (7.4.1– 3). Xenophon goes out of his way to comment (7.4.3) that  Lycomedes perished in a most divinely inspired manner (δαιµονι ωτατα αποθν ησκει). The reader seems meant to infer from the previous mention of Lycomedes that he is being punished for his excessive ambition and his responsibility for the arrogance and downfall of the Arcadians (7.1.23– 32). Another episode involving the gods is the attempt of the Eleans on the occasion of the 104th Olympiad in 364 b.c. to regain control of the sanctuary at Olympia from the Arcadians. Xenophon remarks (7.4.30) that on this occasion the Eleans, although they had been looked down upon previously as unskilled in battle, lead forth their allies as if they were the bravest of all. They meet with immediate and surprising success against the Arcadians and force them to retreat against the temple buildings, from which they pelt the Eleans with missiles (roof tiles?). This destruction of temple property is something that Xenophon would not have approved. Not only are there numerous examples in Greek literature of divine anger striking down those guilty of harming temple buildings,80 but the first item for which Xenophon praises Agesilaus in the summary of his virtues at the end of the Agesilaus is his reverent treatment of enemies’ sanctuaries (11.1). It is not surprising then that Xenophon concludes his narrative of the incident as follows (7.4.32): They (the Eleans) went back to the city, having become such in valor as a god, after giving inspiration, would be able to produce even in a day, but humans could not create in a large amount of time in those who were not already brave.81 Because Xenophon has indicated above (7.4.30) that the Eleans are not normally brave, there seems to be only one possibility offered in this passage: that the gods provided them with extraordinary valor specifically 80. See Robert Parker, Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1983), 168 and n. 33.

  λθον ε ι ς το αστυ,       81. απη τοιου
τοι γενοµενοι ο ιους τ ην αρετ ην θε
ος µ εν αν ε µπνε τους    ερα  αποδει  αν  ε ν πολλω  µ η υσας δυναιτο κα ι ε ν ηµ ξαι, ανθρωποι δ ε ουδ’ χρονω  ι µους ποιησειαν.  οντας αλκ

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for this occasion (cf. 7.2.21).82 In this way, he leads the reader to draw the conclusion that the Eleans’ uncharacteristic bravery is divinely inspired because their enemies caused physical damage to temple buildings. Another reason for divine favoring of the Eleans follows. We learn next that the Arcadians exacerbate the offense of damaging temple buildings by engaging in temple robbery, for they begin to use the sacred funds to support their standing army. Eventually some members of the Arcadian Confederacy begin to object to this use of the sacred treasures, arguing before the federal assembly, as Xenophon reports, that their use of the sacred funds would leave their descendants liable to the wrath of the gods (7.4.33– 34).83 The issue of the sacred funds proves divisive for the Arcadian Confederacy, while the Thebans, who give military support to the temple robbers, are unsuccessful in the following campaign, the Mantinea campaign (7.5.1– 27), which is the last of the Hellenica. In fact, the Mantinea campaign is the episode that contains the greatest number of references to the divine.84 The first reference to forces beyond human control is a comment, in the first person, that he would not consider  for Epaminondas (7.5.8).85 Here, as the rest of this campaign ευτυχ ης  means “favored Xenophon’s narrative of the campaign confirms, ευτυχ ης by fortune” rather than “successful (through human effort).”86 Epaminondas’s first move in the campaign is an attack on Sparta, which would have been successful had it not been for a certain divine fate (θει α τιν ι µοι ρα ), in the form of a Cretan who informs the Spartans of the approach of the Theban army (7.5.9– 10).87 As a result of this mischance, Epaminondas and his troops find the city defended but still are superior in numbers. Nevertheless, Archidamus and the Spartans defeat them, an unex
pected result that could be attributable to the divine (το θει ον), although ´ 82. Pace Riedinger, Etude sur les Hell´eniques, 251 n. 3, and Dietzfelbinger, “Religiose ¨ Kategorien,” 139– 40). 83. Note that this is the only example of the “sins of the fathers” doctrine, which is so pervasive in early Greek thought. I have argued elsewhere (“Condemnation of the Impious,” 272– 74) that Xenophon distances himself from this doctrine because it removes personal responsibility from the individual. 84. See H.
R. Breitenbach, “Xenophon,” 1698.

 ου ν ουκ αν  εγωγε φησαιµι   στρατηγι αν αυτω γενεσθαι.  85. ευτυχη µ εν τ ην 86. See H. D. Westlake, “Xenophon and Epaminondas,” GRBS 16 (1975): 23– 40, at 30 and n. 20. 87. Westlake (“Xenophon and Epaminondas,” 31– 32) believes that Xenophon misrepresents Epaminondas’s desperation in this move, for he had nothing to lose by making this attack and a great deal to gain if it succeeded.

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Xenophon also suggests human motivation is possible (7.5.12).88 When the Spartans, exulting in their victory, pursue the enemy farther than was

 opportune (πορρωτερω του καιρου), they in turn are killed because, as
Xenophon says (7.5.13), the divine (το θει ον) apparently grants them victory only up to a point.89 As H. D. Westlake notes, the attribution of these Spartan losses to divine intervention is remarkable because it is natural that when this group of Spartan soldiers caught up with the main body of the enemy, it would have lost the initial impetus of its advance and been at the mercy of a much larger force.90 Therefore, Xenophon employs divine intervention when a purely military explanation would have sufficed. A further defeat for Epaminondas follows in another battle where, despite all his careful planning and forethought, the only honorable option left is to give battle in less than favorable circumstances (7.5.18). Xenophon then comments that this sense of honor is not surprising in an  ambitious (φιλοτιµος) man such as Epaminondas, who wishes to be η)  of the Peloponnese. Alqueath to his fatherland the hegemony (αρχ though the root φιλοτιµ- is ambiguous in the Hellenica, as seen in the discussion of Lycomedes, the sequel makes it clear that it is the negative connotation which is intended here also. In spite of all of Epaminondas’s ability as a commander, which Xenophon underlines at 7.5.8 and 7.5.19,91 misfortune strikes again, in the form of his unexpected death, just when the Thebans appear poised on the brink of decisive victory (7.4.24– 25). Immediately upon his death, neither side is able to gain the upper hand.  so arranges it that both sides claim victory, while Instead, the god (ο θεος) leaving Greece in more confusion and disorder than before (7.5.26– 27). Xenophon’s insistence on divine intervention in his account of the Mantinea campaign may result from his conviction that those who act out of 88. “As for what happened subsequently, it is possible to impute it to the divine, but
it is   also possible to say that no
one could
resist desperate men” (το[τε]
γε µ ην ε ντευθεν   τοι ς απονενοηµ  το θει ον α ι τιασθαι, εξεστι δ ε λεγειν   γενοµενον εξεστι µ εν ως ενοις  ι ς αν  υποστα ουδε ι η). 89. “For, it seems, a limit had been drawn by the divine
up to which victory had been            granted
to them” (περιεγεγραπτο γαρ, ως εοικεν, υπο του θειου µεχρι οσου νικη ε δεδοτο αυτοι ς). 90. Westlake, “Xenophon and Epaminondas,” 33 n. 29. 91. Cf. the remarks of L. Breitenbach in his 1874 commentary on the Hellenica (I was unable to obtain a copy of it) cited by John Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians (Lanham, Md: Rowan & Littlefield, 1994), 117 n. 26: “This passage shows that Xenophon saw misfortune for Greece in the efforts and influence of Epaminondas; but he also understood how to enter into the spirit of the great man and esteem his lofty Theban patriotism.” I thank one of the referees for bringing this passage to my attention.

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the selfish desire to obtain honor and glory for themselves will eventually be stopped by the gods.92 Just as in the case of Sparta, Epaminondas’s ambition has led him too far, and the gods intervene.93 Imperialism engenders moral corruption and is never successful in the Hellenica for long. Xenophon’s belief in divine retribution seems linked to his conviction that the supernatural brings about punishment for immoral actions. Often natural phenomena, which are not brought about by human agency but are attributable to some supernatural force, prevent those with moral faults from obtaining victory, or worse. At the beginning of the Hellenica, we find a thunderstorm preventing Callicratidas from attacking the Athenians at Arginusae unexpectedly by night (1.6.28). Now, Xenophon has previously portrayed Callicratidas as a morally unsympathetic character.94 His excessive pride in taking over command from Lysander shows little concern for the well-being of the men under his command, a moral vice for Xenophon, and results in an undermining of his authority by Lysander’s friends (1.6.1– 4). His address to his troops is self-centered and refers explicitly to his own philotimia (1.6.5). He refuses Persian money altogether when Cyrus asks him to wait two days (1.6.6– 7). He proudly proclaims after his capture of Methymna that no Greek will be enslaved if he can help it, but on the very next day he sells the Athenian garrison there into slavery (1.6.14– 15).95 He then attempts, as he somewhat vulgarly puts it, to put adultery with the sea
an end to Conon’s committing
  µοιχωντα τ ην  παυσει  ον  θαλατταν), by block(Κονωνι δ ε ε ι πεν οτι αυτ ading him at Mytilene (1.6.15– 18). Callicratidas’s selfish concern with his 92. Higgins (Xenophon the Athenian, 118) notes the destructive consequences of Epaminondas’s philotimia. 93. Westlake (“Xenophon and Epaminondas,” 23– 40) reaches a similar conclusion, but he attributes the insistence upon divine retribution in this passage to Xenophon’s prejudice against the Theban leader. 94. Higgins (Xenophon the Athenian, 10– 12) illuminates the contrast between Callicratidas’s words and actions, which disproves the position of many scholars (such as Westlake, “Individuals in Xenophon, ‘Hellenica,’” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 49 [1966]: 246– 69; reprinted in Essays on the Greek Historians and Greek History [Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1969], 203– 25, at 217) that Xenophon admired Callicratidas. Recently, Moles (“Xenophon and Callicratidas,” 70– 84, with full references to the positions held by various scholars) and Bruce LaForse (“Xenophon, Callicratidas and Panhellenism,” AHB 12 [1998]: 55– 67) have argued that Xenophon’s portrayal of Callicratidas is mixed. 95. He does, however, refuse to sell the free Methymnaeans into slavery, although his allies urge this course of action upon him (1.6.14– 15). It may be, as Joseph Roisman (“Kallikratidas—A Greek Patriot?” CJ 83 [1987]: 21– 33, esp. 30– 31) suggests, that Callicratidas excludes the Athenians, as enemies, from his proclamation against the enslavement of Greeks.

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own pride seems, however, not to have gone unnoticed by the powers that be. A storm prevents him from attacking the Athenians at night, when he would have had a better chance of catching them off-guard (1.6.26– 28). Instead, Callicratidas attacks by day, against the advice of his helmsman to retire from the attack, and explicitly puts his own reputation ahead of the lives of his men and the interests of his state (1.6.32). The result is that not only is Callicratidas defeated in the battle of Arginusae (1.6.33– 34), with a tremendous loss of life on the Peloponnesian side, but he also meets a rather ignominious end by falling overboard (1.6.33).96 In this case, Xenophon shows how a natural phenomenon actively contributes to Callicratidas’s deserved destruction. In fact, Xenophon’s chief use of natural phenomena seems to be as a kind of reinforcement of the recurrent theme throughout the Hellenica that moral offenses eventually result in the destruction of the guilty. In addition to the thunderstorm that brings about the death of Callicratidas, an example of this kind is the unexpected snowstorm that protects Thrasybulus and his followers from an attack of the Thirty. This phenomenon is given particular prominence by being mentioned twice: once in Xenophon’s regular narrative (2.4.3) and again in Thrasybulus’s speech to his men, when he encourages them by saying that the gods are obviously on their side, for they send a storm in fair weather to help them (2.4.14). It is an obvious inference that the storm has appeared providentially to aid the virtuous against the wicked. An example of a natural phenomenon guiding human right conduct is Xenophon’s account of Agis’s campaign against Elis. He presents the Eleans as being morally in the wrong, at least according to the Spartans, because, in addition to previous inflammatory actions, they refused to allow Agis to sacrifice to Zeus at Olympia, although he was specifically instructed to do so by an oracle (3.2.21– 22). As a result of these offenses, the Spartans decide to make war on Elis and send Agis off with an army. Just after Agis crosses the border into Elis, an earthquake takes place.
Thinking it is a divine sign (θει ον η γησα µενος), he immediately disbands his army and goes home (3.2.24). The next year, after Agis makes his sacrifices at Olympia, his campaign against Elis is so successful that Xenophon comments that it was like a foraging expedition for the Peloponnese 96. Krentz (Xenophon: Hellenika I–II.3.10 [Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1989], 156) comments: “Xenophon lets Kallikratidas’ disappearance suffice as a comment; he does not give the Spartan an honorable death.”

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(3.2.26). In this episode, Agis is rewarded for his reverence for the gods, while the Eleans’ presumed irreverence in seeking to foil the wishes of the gods, as indicated in the oracle given to Agis, is punished. A more explicit study of the proper conduct of a commander toward the interpretation of natural phenomena is Xenophon’s account of the behavior of Agesipolis while on expedition against Argos. The antecedents to this expedition are interesting. Agesipolis, doubting the sincerity of the Argives’ plea of the sacred month every time he was about to invade, consults the oracle of Zeus at Olympia, putting to the god the question of whether it would be impious to ignore this holy truce that was pleaded unjustly. When Zeus gives his permission to ignore this fabricated holy truce, Agesipolis, just to be sure, consults the oracle of Apollo at Delphi as well, and obtains the same answer (4.7.2– 3).97 Agesipolis, now certain that he is obeying the gods’ wishes, proceeds with the expedition.98 On the first evening the god  sends an earthquake.99 This statement is unusual because Xeno(ο θεος) phon says explicitly in his own persona that the earthquake is divinely inspired. Although the soldiers expect they will retreat promptly, as Agis had a decade earlier, Agesipolis argues that there is divine encouragement for the campaign in this case, since they have already crossed the border (4.7.5). After sacrificing, he continues the campaign,100 reaching the gates of the city (4.7.5– 7). Here, he wishes to build a siege wall, but after a thunderbolt strikes his camp and kills some of his troops, he makes a sacrifice to determine the wishes of the gods in this matter (4.7.7). When the omens are unfavorable, Agesipolis piously withdraws, having done much damage to the Argives. It seems clear that Xenophon attributes Agesipolis’s success to his diligence in ascertaining the gods’ wishes and his prompt obedience to the message indicated by these natural phenomena. We should perhaps add to this group three incidents in which Xenophon does not endorse the supernatural implications of natural phenomena. The first is the change from heavy rain to a clear and sunny sky that 97. Robert Parker (“Greek States and Greek Oracles,” in Crux: Essays Presented to G. E. M. de Ste. Croix on his 75th Birthday, ed. P. A. Cartledge and F. D. Harvey [Exeter: Imprint Academic, 1985], 298– 326, at 300) suggests that Agesipolis was motivated to consult two oracles primarily by the desire to prevent opposition from his troops. 98. There are double consultations of oracles that are apparently acceptable in Herodotus (9.93.4) and in Euripides’ Ion (esp. 300– 302 and 407– 9). Nevertheless, Xenophon’s Croesus in the
Cyropaedia claims
(7.2.17) that the gods do not love those who do not trust  απιστου them (ου φιλουσι τους ντας).  99. Literally, “the god shook” (εσεισεν ο θεος).


    100. Accepting Tillmanns’s emendation of ηγει το αυ πορρω for MSS ηγει το ου πορρω.

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takes place during Alcibiades’ attack on the Spartan fleet at Cyzicus (1.1.16). Certainly this incident, which occurs near the beginning of the Hellenica, is designed to reveal the leadership abilities of Alcibiades, whose troops are so willing to obey that they agree to be drenched on the way to a battle, which was not certain even to materialize. The implication is that the gods favor him and change the rain to sunshine for him, especially when Xenophon states that the clearing of the skies resulted in Alcibiades’ catching sight of the Spartan commander Mindarus’s sixty ships training far from the harbor and offering an easy target. It is certainly no coincidence that Alcibiades inflicts a terrible defeat on the Spartan navy on this occasion, including the death of Mindarus himself. The second incident is the occurrence of a sudden windstorm that strikes Cleombrotus’s army on his return home from the first Spartan campaign against Thebes after the liberation of the Cadmea (5.4.17). Xenophon tells us that some people considered it to be a sign foreshadowing the future (presumably the decisive Spartan defeat at the battle of Leuctra). If, however, we take into account Xenophon’s condemnation of the Spartan seizure of the Cadmea (5.4.1) and his undercutting of the skepticism expressed by some people on the genuineness of the portents before Leuctra, it seems very likely that he did consider the sudden windstorm that beset Cleombrotus to have been an indication of divine displeasure against the Spartans. Similarly, he mentions that some people reported the appearance of thunder and lightning in a clear sky immediately preceding the so-called Tearless Battle (7.1.31). As we have seen above, he lays the responsibility for the outcome of the battle at the door of the Arcadian leader, Lycomedes. Given that Xenophon attributes Lycomedes’ death to divine intervention (7.4.3), it is probable that he would like to believe the report that the hands of the gods were at work on this occasion also, although he cannot vouch for its accuracy.101 Although he does not explicitly endorse a divine origin of these natural phenomena, the fact remains that they do aid the virtuous and punish the wicked. Another method by which Xenophon instills his moral lessons in the reader is his use of speeches.102 Here, instead of guiding the reader with 101. Other phenomena that appear merely to foreshadow the future are two solar eclipses, one occurring before a major victory of Lycophron (2.3.4) and the other preceding Agesilaus’s hearing of the news of the Spartan loss at Cnidus (4.3.10). 102. For a comprehensive treatment of speeches in the Hellenica, see Gray (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 79– 140), who argues that Xenophon’s main purpose in including them is the exploration of moral issues through the characterization of the speaker.

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explicit comments, he allows the moral qualities of the speaker to reveal themselves; for this reason, he uses direct speech more often than indirect speech. Sometimes, even when a speech begins in oratio obliqua, it then switches into oratio recta,103 which allows the speaker’s personality to shine through more clearly. In this way, the virtue of a Teleutias or the vice of a Callicratidas is revealed to the reader through his own words, as it were. Xenophon uses speeches not only to illustrate the morality of the good, but also as another indirect method of denouncing the bad. In this way, he does not have to make an explicit condemnation in his own persona, but can distance himself by putting such comments into the mouth of a third person. Furthermore, the speaker’s denunciation of a wrongdoer reveals, by contrast, his own morality. Euryptolemus’s speech (1.7.16– 33), the first formal speech in direct discourse of any real length,104 is a good example of the double function that speeches can serve in the Hellenica. In this speech, which occurs in the sad aftermath of the Battle of Arginusae,105 Euryptolemus cautions against disrespect both of the gods and of the laws. He thus reveals himself as a man of moral character,106 in contrast to the lawless violence of the Athenian mob, who have been stirred up to commit an act that is morally reprehensible by the evil words of men such as Callixenus, who brought forward the motion (which Xenophon presents as illegal) to condemn the generals en bloc. The truth of Euryptolemus’s words comes out a few chapters later when the Athenians regret their hasty decision and decide to bring to trial those who had persuaded them. Callixenus and the others managed to escape beforehand, but Xenophon adds a postscript, saying that upon Callexenus’s return to Athens a few years later, hated by all, he died of starvation (1.7.35). Thus, Xenophon expressly records Callixenus’s nasty death out of proper chronological sequence to reinforce his condemnation by Euryp103. Westlake, “Individuals in Xenophon, ‘Hellenica,’” 204. Buckler (“Xenophon’s Speeches and the Theban Hegemony,” 189) provides a useful chart that tabulates the twentynine speeches included in Xenophon’s narrative of the Theban hegemony (6.3.1– 7.5.27), showing which are in oratio recta (eighteen), which are in oratio obliqua (five), and which change from the latter to the former (six). 104. So far, in oratio recta, there are only the two speeches of Callicratidas (1.6.5 and 1.6.8– 11). There are three instances, however, in which a speech begins in oratio obliqua but switches to oratio recta: Alcibiades to the Athenian fleet (1.1.14), the Syracusan generals to their troops (1.1.28), and Cyrus to Lysander (1.5.6). 105. On Xenophon’s presentation of this episode, see my “Shifting Viewpoints in Xenophon’s Hellenica: The Arginusae Episode,” Athenaeum 88 (2000): 499– 513. 106. Pace Due (“Trial of the Generals,” 33– 44), who believes that this speech reveals Euryptolemus to be a manipulative demagogue.

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tolemus.107 This example shows how Xenophon uses speeches to provide both positive and negative models of moral qualities. Euryptolemus’s speech also shows how Xenophon’s concern to illustrate moral qualities can lead him away from the accurate interpretation of history. More damning than what might appear to be overly excessive attention to the trial (it occupies over six pages in the Oxford text) is the fact that Theramenes’ motives are not made clear in Xenophon’s narrative. Xenophon ignores the origins of the conflict between the generals and the trierarchs, which may have originated from a misunderstanding, in order to depict a starker contrast on moral grounds. In his concern to give a vivid moral lesson, he does not provide for the reader a complete historical explanation of the situation at hand.108 Also, he often does not give voice to the leading figures in the historical period that he covers but rather concentrates on relative nonentities, such as Euryptolemus,109 because they provide better examples of moral achievement. This is not to say that he puts words in their mouths110 but that he may exaggerate their ultimate importance as a result of the sentiments they express. Thus, while probably not indulging in outright invention, Xenophon likely turns the speeches to his own moral use. Digressions are another method by which Xenophon instructs his readers in moral virtue. He is very careful in his use of digressions and usually indicates clearly to the reader when he is beginning and ending a digression, signaling these points of departure and return with comments in the first person. His most famous digressions concern the rise and fall of two tyrants,111 namely, Jason of Pherae and Euphron of Sicyon. Xenophon first introduces the reader to Jason during his narrative of events leading to the peace of 375 b.c. In fact, he interrupts his account of the growing hostility between the Thebans and the Spartans, which eventually culminates in the battle of Leuctra, by inserting an appeal, 107. Gray (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 83– 91) sees this speech as a “commemoration of the quality of philanthropy” (91) but does not mention its negative function, the condemnation of Callixenus and the Athenian mob by Euryptolemus. 108. See A. Andrewes, “The Arginousai Trial,” Phoenix 28 (1974): 112– 22; Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 90– 91; and Mabel Lang, “Theramenes and Arginousai,” Hermes 120 (1992): 267– 79. 109. See Westlake, “Individuals in Xenophon, ‘Hellenica,’” 206– 7. 110. Buckler (“Xenophon’s Speeches and the Theban Hegemony,” 187– 204) shows that Xenophon’s speeches during this period convey the essence of what the speaker is likely to have said. 111. As noted by Leo Strauss, “Greek Historians,” Review of Metaphysics 21 (1968): 656– 66, at 662.

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loosely connected to the rest of his narrative, by Polydamas of Pharsalus to the Spartans for help against the rising power of Jason. After giving a short character sketch (6.1.2– 3) that shows that Polydamas is a man to be trusted, and so gives credibility to what he is about to say about Jason,112 Xenophon quotes a speech of Polydamas, in which he purports to repeat to the Spartans a speech Jason had previously made to him (6.1.5, 7– 13), stating that although he could bring Pharsalus over to his side by force, he would prefer to do so if possible by persuasion. In the middle of this reported speech, in which Jason comes across as extremely confident in his own abilities, Polydamas inserts an aside that illustrates the truth of Jason’s boasts, by commenting in detail upon his qualities of leadership (6.1.6, 15– 16). Jason works his soldiers hard, expecting them to be able to endure what he does (the opposite of that which Teleutias claims in his speech to his men [5.1.14]), but they obey him willingly because he rewards their toil, looks after them when they are sick, and ensures that they have a proper burial. Further, Jason shows self-control over the pleasures of the body, an important virtue for Xenophon. Jason’s humanity extends to Polydamas himself, for when he replies that he is unwilling to desert Sparta for no good reason, Jason suggests that he seek help from the Spartans (6.1.13), who rather uncharitably decide they cannot spare the men necessary to aid Polydamas and accordingly send him home empty-handed (6.1.17); Jason’s domination of Thessaly follows (6.1.18). Polydamas thus shows Jason to be a moral leader by the criteria Xenophon expresses elsewhere in the Hellenica,113 in his self-control, the discipline and training needed to achieve it, and his concern for those under his command. These virtues are manifested not only in Xenophon’s Socrates114 but are prominent also in his other works, particularly the Respublica Lacedaemoniorum (particularly the account of the Spartan paideia at 2.3– 5 and 4.7), the Agesilaus (esp. 5.1– 7), and the Cyropaedia.115 As others have  noted, self-control (ε γκρατεια) and effort (πονος), while part of the neces112. Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 171. 113. As noted by, e.g., Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian, 110, and Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 185– 86. 114. Esp. Memorabilia 1.2.1– 2; see Peter Krafft, “Vier Beispiele des Xenophontischen,” 108 and n. 11, and Bodil Due, The Cyropaedia: Xenophon’s Aims and Methods (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1989), 199– 202. Olof Gigon (Kommentar zum ersten Buch von Xenophons Memorabilien [Basel: Friedrich Reinhardt, 1953], 27) has demonstrated how the influence of Antisthenes can be seen in Xenophon’s emphasis upon the virtues of self-control (ε γκρατεια),  ρκεια). endurance (καρτερι α), and self-sufficiency (αυτα 115. Due, Cyropaedia, 170– 81.

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 and thus confer sary training for war, lead also to excellence (αρετ η) 116 legitimacy on the winner. These virtues, therefore, contain simultaneous moral, military, and political implications. While Xenophon’s conception of the good moral leader is rooted in his connections with Socrates and Sparta, he considers the best route to achieve the virtues that lead to  to be a practical one, that is, training and practice. excellence (αρετ η) Nevertheless, as was the case with the Spartans and, as we shall see, Jason, any backsliding from these moral virtues will end in disaster. Xenophon continues the story of Jason in his account of the aftermath of the Battle of Leuctra, when the Thebans appeal to him, as their ally, to help despatch the Spartans (6.4.19– 20). Jason advises them not to risk a second battle with the Spartans (6.4.22– 23) and ironically (in view of his own impending doom) adds (6.4.23), “for the god, as it seems, often rejoices in making the humble great, and the great humble.”117 He also gives the Spartans “friendly advice” as the Spartan proxenus (6.4.24), for which, as Xenophon suggests (6.4.25), the real motive is to play off one side against the other to his own advantage. Xenophon then takes the opportunity to portray Jason at the height of his strength (6.4.28),118 in a portrait that is very similar in tone to his description of Sparta at its height (5.3.27). As was the case with Sparta, however, Jason’s arrogant behavior engendered by his great good fortune leads directly to his destruction. Xenophon now jumps ahead a year in his narrative to Jason’s preparations for the festival of Apollo at Delphi. Jason intends, or so people said  εφασαν), to preside over the festival, but his intentions regarding the (ως treasures are unclear (6.4.29– 30). When the Delphians ask Apollo what they should do if Jason attempts to seize any of the treasures, Xenophon  reports that the god is said (λεγεται) to have answered that he would see to it himself (6.4.30).119 He then gives a recapitulation of Jason’s greatness, before describing dramatically Jason’s assassination by seven young men (6.4.31– 32). Notably, he makes no explicit moral judgment of Jason except to say that the assassins who managed to escape were honored in 116. Due, Cyropaedia, esp. 179– 81, and Steven Johnstone, “Virtuous Toil, Vicious Work: Xenophon on Aristocratic Style,” CP 89 (1994): 219– 40, at 221– 22.
 δε,  ε οικε, πολλακις χαι ρει τους  ως  µ εν  µικρους  µεγαλους ποιων, 117. κα ι ο θεος  δ ε µεγαλους µικρους.  Gray (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 163) comments on the τους Herodotean resonance of this statement. 118. On the triadic structure of this passage, see Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 173– 74. 119. A similar reply by Apollo occurs in Herodotus (8.36.1).

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the cities to which they came, which shows how strongly the Greeks feared that Jason would become their tyrant (6.4.32). After describing in detail the tragic cycle of murder and revenge that plagues the ruling house of Pherae after Jason’s death (6.4.33– 37), Xenophon returns to his narrative to tell of the peace that is negotiated in the wake of Leuctra (6.5.1). Other scholars have drawn attention to the moral aspect of Xenophon’s portrayal of Jason’s meteoric rise and sudden fall120 but do not take sufficient account of the fact that his rise and fall is contained mainly in the second digression, which renders the first digression unnecessary if this is the only explanation for Xenophon’s interest in him. John Dillery has recently suggested that Xenophon’s interruption of his narrative around the Leuctra campaign with the Jason story is due to his desire to inform his narrative of Sparta’s fall paratactically.121 Yet it seems that Xenophon has a wider moral interest in Jason’s rise and fall than simply as a decline parallel to that of Sparta. It is necessary, therefore, to examine both digressions in order to determine his reasons for dwelling on Jason at such (relative) length. In the first digression, Xenophon portrays Jason through the eyes of Polydamas as not only a formidable opponent but also a good moral leader. Furthmore, Jason’s basic decency is revealed by his humane treatment of Polydamas (in contrast, one might point out, to the Spartans’ refusal to help). By the second digression, however, Jason has lost much of this basic humanity, and instead of providing good advice to potential opponents, as he does with Polydamas, he tries to play off the Thebans and the Spartans against one another for his own gain, although he is the ally of the former and the proxenus of the latter. The implication is that Jason has become corrupt with power in the interval between the two digressions. Moreover, Xenophon hints that Jason’s alleged intended sacrilege regarding the sacred treasures at Delphi may have had some role in his death, since the vivid depiction of his assassination immediately follows speculation upon his impiety. Thus, the first digression is necessary to indicate the moral high ground to which Jason keeps early in his career, and to provide a contrast with his later, less moral behavior, while the second digression serves to bring Jason to his height in order to contrast more sharply his untimely death at the hands of his assassins. 120. Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian, 110– 11, and Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 163– 65. 121. Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, esp. 175– 76.

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Yet Jason, in contrast to his successors, at least rose to power as a result of his proven ability. Xenophon, therefore, depicts him with some sympathy and gives his death relative dignity. On the other hand, he portrays Jason’s successors as a thoroughly unsavory lot, meeting ever more ignominious deaths at the hands of their own relatives. Thus, Xenophon narrates the rise and fall of Jason as a series of contrasts. The upright yet ineffective Polydamas is contrasted with the powerful but increasingly unscrupulous Jason. Jason’s rigorous control over himself and the loyalty he inspires in his troops are contrasted with the tyranny and violence of his successors. Xenophon also records Polydamas’s own violent death in this section (6.3.34), in order to underline still further the baseness of the dynasty of Pherae, that it would stoop so low as to murder so honorable a man. The moral lessons to be learned from the fates of Jason and his successors, in Xenophon’s eyes, evidently justify departing from the strict chronological order of narrative, keeping the story as a coherent whole to give it more impact. Likewise recorded in two separate digressions is Xenophon’s portrait of the rise and fall of Euphron of Sicyon, the only other historical figure in the Hellenica whom he singles out in this way. Xenophon begins his account of Euphron’s career with his coup, which he places in his narrative immediately following the Theban invasion of Achaea in 367, although it is likely that Euphron became tyrant the previous year.122 Thus, in order to keep his moral lesson a coherent whole, Xenophon appears willing to misrepresent the timing of Euphron’s coup. Immediately following his coup, Euphron creates a private mercenary army, appropriating both public and sacred money to do so, and begins to eliminate opponents and rivals (7.1.44– 46). His banishment of laconizers in order to gain access to their property is particularly revealing of his purely personal motives for seizing power, as he has until only recently been the most influential of his fellow citizens with the Spartans (7.1.44). Xenophon concludes his portrait of Euphron by

 saying (7.1.46) that he was clearly a tyrant (σαφως τυραννος η ν). Xenophon now turns to a section devoted to the exploits of the Phliasians (7.2.1– 7.3.1), the point of which is to highlight their continued loyalty to Sparta after Leuctra. We should note, however, that Diodorus (15.68.1) says that Epaminondas brought Phlius over to the Theban side 122. Audrey Griffin (Sikyon [Oxford: Clarendon, 1982], 71) prefers Diodorus’s date of 368 (15.70.3) for Euphron’s coup, because the campaign against Phlius of 367 in which he participated (7.2.11– 15) took place after he became tyrant.

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during his second invasion of the Peloponnese; it is possible Xenophon exaggerates Phlius’s loyalty to Sparta in the aftermath of Leuctra.123 In his narrative, Xenophon includes a disgraceful episode in which Euphron and his private army of mercenaries stand by and watch many brave citizen soldiers from Sicyon and Pellene die at the hands of the Phliasians (7.2.11– 15). Henceforth, Euphron and his mercenaries keep a low profile, whereas the Phliasians continue their string of military successes, despite being in want of material resources. The Phliasians are not only loyal but treat prisoners humanely (7.2.16) and exhibit piety (7.2.20, 21, and 23), for which they are apparently rewarded by the gods.124 It is a natural inference that the Phliasians prevail as a result of their moral superiority, while Euphron’s lack of loyalty to his allies hinders his efforts, because he is soon overthrown (7.3.1– 3). At this point, Xenophon once more deviates from strict chronological order to complete the story of Euphron, who again seizes power by means of a coup but is unable to gain complete control of the city with the Theban harmost still in possession of the acropolis (7.3.4). Some of the former Sicyonian exiles, fearing lest they might be sent into exile again, follow Euphron to Thebes, where they assassinate him on the acropolis in the presence of the archons and the Council (7.3.5). The Theban archons bring the matter before the Council and demand the supreme penalty (7.3.5– 6). All the killers except one deny they committed the deed. The one killer defends his act on the grounds that Euphron deserved his fate, for he pillaged the temples in Sicyon; broke agreements he had made with his allies; and exiled, put to death, and appropriated the property of his own fellow citizens. Consequently, the Thebans ought not to blame those who had disposed of a traitor such as Euphron (7.3.7– 11). Xenophon thus uses this speech as a moral exemplum, to illustrate how Euphron’s lack of moral scruples led directly to his fate, which he richly deserved.125 The nameless killer’s moral reasoning prevails, and the Thebans let the accused go free. Xenophon, however, concludes the story of Euphron with the cynical comment that his fellow citizens honored him as founder of the city, for most people define their benefactors as good men (7.3.12). Xenophon obviously finds the story of the rise and fall of Euphron 123. Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times, 131. 124. Note the reference to a certain divinely inspired enthusiasm (θει α τινι προθυµι α ) at 7.2.21. 125. Tuplin (Failings of Empire, 124) notes that every statement of fact made in the speech is consistent with Xenophon’s narrative.

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important enough to depart from the chronological framework of his narrative in two places. His placement of these digressions in his narrative is significant, for they are situated so as to form a framework for the exploits of the Phliasians. In this way, Xenophon contrasts more dramatically the loyalty of the Phliasians with the turncoat actions of Euphron. The moral lesson to be gleaned from the contrast is clear—the Phliasians prevail in their endeavors, whereas Euphron is cut down in cold blood and his killers go free. In both the Jason and the Euphron digressions, Xenophon makes it clear that military prowess alone is not sufficient for a ruler to be successful, since concern for one’s subjects and allies and reverence for the gods are the key elements to real success. For this reason, he portrays the Phliasians as successful and Jason and Euphron as meeting the fate deserved by those who lack proper moral scruples. Moreover, he is careful to show how both Jason and Euphron are corrupted by absolute power and how their own imperialistic actions lead directly to their downfalls. Thus, Xenophon uses digressions as an opportunity to narrate events outside their proper chronology to show more explicitly the moral lesson to be gained from them. In addition to Xenophon’s formal use of digressions, in which he explicitly deviates from the strict chronological order of his narrative, on numerous occasions he steps outside the strict factual outline of events in order to recount an anecdote, which I define as an incident not necessary for the development of the narrative but which can stand alone by virtue of its dramatic qualities.126 Many of the anecdotes included in Xenophon’s Hellenica are told with an eye to detail in order to emphasize their moral significance. Of course, they are far too numerous to discuss individually, but I shall discuss one in detail to show how Xenophon uses them to further his moral aims. One of the most dramatic anecdotes is the story of Mania and Meidias. Xenophon tells the story of Mania in his account of Dercylidas’s actions in 126. Stewart Flory The Archaic Smile of Herodotus [Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1987] differentiates between anecdotes and general narrative in Herodotus as follows (151– 52): “Short, focused upon a single, brief event, the anecdote reaches a definite conclusion and may centre entirely upon a climactic point. A general narrative concentrates on a sequence of events, often complexly related, and has a conclusion that is the result of prior events and not itself the purpose of the narrative, as often is the case with the characteristically pointed anecdote. Not only are anecdotes self-contained entities, they may have little or no link to any immediate context.” See also K. J. Dover, “Anecdotes, Gossip and Scandal,” in The Greeks and Their Legacy: Collected Papers, vol. 2 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), 45– 52.

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Asia when he took over command of the troops from the ineffectual Thibron. Rather than carrying on a campaign against both Tissaphernes and Pharnabazus, Dercylidas sensibly decides to make peace with the former and war with the latter, against whom he had a personal grudge (3.1.9). Accordingly, he proceeds with his troops to Aeolis, in Pharnabazus’s territory (3.1.10). Xenophon now departs from his narrative to relate the anecdote of how Mania becomes satrap of the province of Aeolis. She had been the wife of Zenis, the previous satrap, and upon his death pays a visit to Pharnabazus, bearing gifts for him and his court, to request that he appoint her satrap. Her character is well portrayed in the short speech she makes in oratio recta to Pharnabazus (3.1.11). Xenophon presents her as loyal and unassuming. She makes no demands upon Pharnabazus but requests him politely to allow her a trial period as satrap to prove her worth. When he agrees to appoint her satrap, she proves more than worthy of the office, turning out to be more loyal and energetic than her husband had been (3.12– 13).127 Mania thus embodies one of the chief Xenophontean virtues, that of loyalty—as does Pharnabazus, for that matter, since he treats her with humanity. Xenophon deliberately juxtaposes the loyalty of Mania with the perfidy of her son-in-law, Meidias, who takes advantage of his family tie with Mania to gain access to her presence (for she guarded herself against others, as is  fitting in a tyranny) and strangle her, or so people said (λεγεται), and her adolescent son as well (3.1.14). He then demands from Pharnabazus the same privileges that Mania had been granted. Pharnabazus, however, promises instead to avenge Mania’s murder (3.1.15). Before he has the opportunity, Dercylidas begins to move against Meidias, who, fearing both his own citizens and Pharnabazus’s imminent approach, requests an alliance. Dercylidas accepts, on the condition that Meidias allow his citizens to be free and autonomous (3.1.20). Powerless with the will of his citizens against him, Meidias is forced to allow Dercylidas to enter the city and to hand it over to its citizens, to their delight (3.1.21). Notably, the first action of Dercylidas is to sacrifice to Athena (3.1.21). Meidias then demands that Dercylidas hand over the city of Gergis to him but receives only the enigmatic reply that he will not fail to obtain anything he deserves. Dercylidas then orders Meidias to open the gates, and Meidias, too frightened to do otherwise, obeys (3.1.22). Once 127. See Gray’s (Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 30– 31) discussion of this anecdote; she remarks upon the general superficial resemblance between Mania and the Herodotean Artemisia.

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again, Dercylidas’s first action upon entering the city is to sacrifice to Athena (3.1.23). He then dismisses Meidias’s personal bodyguard with the comment that Meidias no longer has anything to fear. Meidias, quite rightly, is terrified by the implications of this comment and attempts to remove himself from the scene, on the grounds that he wishes to arrange for Dercylidas the entertainment due a guest. Dercylidas refuses Meidias’s invitation and in its place offers one of his own (3.1.24). Over dinner, a conversation takes place between the two men (3.1.25– 28), in which Dercylidas determines the exact extent of Meidias’s paternal inheritance. When the citizens of Scepsis object that Meidias is exaggerating his property, Dercylidas tells them not to be overly worried about details. He then asks to whom Mania belonged. When the answer “To Pharnabazus,” is given, Dercylidas replies that since he is victorious over Pharnabazus, all these possessions now belong to him. He then seizes Mania’s property to pay his men, threatening to cut the throats of the stewards if they conceal any, and sends Meidias to his father’s house. One of the points of this anecdote is the contrast between the moral behavior of both Mania and Dercylidas and the immoral behavior of Meidias. First of all, Xenophon compares Mania’s loyalty and devotion to her family to the utter perfidy of Meidias, who abuses his familial tie in order to facilitate the brutal murder of both her and her son. Second, the ability of both Mania and Dercylidas as moral commanders is contrasted with that of Meidias to his detriment. Mania kept the cities of the satrapy loyal and also gained control of others. Meidias, however, is unable even to keep loyal to himself the cities that are already part of the province, who welcomed Dercylidas with open arms. Third, the approach of Mania to Pharnabazus is contrasted with that of Meidias. Mania came in person, bearing gifts, to request that she be given a trial period as ruler. Meidias, on the other hand, sends gifts and demands that he be appointed ruler. Instead of granting the special privileges to him that he had granted Mania, Pharnabazus rejects Meidias’s demands out of hand. Fourth, Meidias’s perfidy in murdering members of his immediate family is contrasted with Dercylidas’s piety, which is manifested in the immediate sacrifices he makes upon entering the cities. Fifth, Xenophon skillfully contrasts Pharnabazus’s firm intention of revenge with the magnanimity of Dercylidas, who certainly had the power to carry out on Meidias the threat that he makes to the stewards of Mania’s house. His liberality extends much further than the simple act of sparing Meidias’s life, however. When the citizens of Scepsis attempt to prevent Meidias from exaggerating the number of his possessions,

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Dercylidas tells them not to be small-minded. Furthermore, Dercylidas intends to use Mania’s treasure to pay his army, instead of for personal enrichment, in contrast with the implied use of the treasure by Meidias. This use of contrasts is an effective means for Xenophon to create the impression in the reader that Meidias is a wicked and immoral man, without saying so explicitly. Dialogue also plays an important role in this anecdote, for it certainly aids in the characterizations of Mania, Meidias, Pharnabazus, and Dercylidas. The conversation between Meidias and Dercylidas is a masterpiece. Despite its deceptively light and witty tone, it shows how exactly Meidias does, in fact, get what he deserves.128 The similarity of this conversation to Socrates’ conversations with others in Xenophon’s Socratic works has often been noticed.129 In addition, as Vivienne Gray has shown,130 Xenophon uses dialogue as a more effective means than narrative of illuminating the intellectual qualities of the main characters; this is a use of dialogue similar to that of Plato. Also, like the use of contrast, the addition of dialogue adds to the dramatic qualities of the story of Mania and Meidias, which in turn drives home its moral lessons more effectively. Finally, the passing reference to tyranny is worthy of notice. Like Jason, Mania is the possessor of many virtues. But in spite of any good qualities possessed by an individual tyrant, tyranny as a general rule causes envy and violence in others,131 and is therefore something to be avoided. Moreover, one wonders if Xenophon’s favoring of the Spartan form of government may account for his desire to show that tyrants meet a bad end (shown particularly in the Jason and Euphron digressions), for the Spartans were famous for their avowed constant opposition to tyranny. Although the wickedness of Meidias is certainly the focal point of the episode, we are left with the nagging feeling that Mania’s own ambition, a negative quality for Xenophon when present in excess, may have been a factor in her unfortunate demise (as it certainly was in Meidias’s downfall). The story of Mania and Meidias illustrates Xenophon’s use of the anecdote as a vehicle that he is able to use for moral instruction in a dramatic and memorable way. In his anecdotes, effective methods of getting the moral point across are the uses of dialogue and, above all, of contrast. In this way, 128. Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 32– 35. 129. See, e.g., Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 34– 35 (who observes Herodotean influence also), and Krentz, Xenophon: Hellenika II.3.11–IV.2.8, 166. 130. V. J. Gray, “Dialogue in Xenophon’s Hellenica,” CQ n.s., 31 (1981): 321– 34. 131. Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 49.

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he is able to show concretely how one in possession of a certain virtue behaves in comparison to one who is not. Another form of contrast is the use of peripeteiai, in which Xenophon sets up the reader to expect a certain conclusion and then immediately provides the opposite. For example, when Lysander sails victoriously into the Piraeus at the end of the Peloponnesian War and the walls are pulled down to the music of flute girls, Xenophon remarks that people thought this day was the beginning of freedom for Greece (2.2.23). Instead of narrating the pleasant circumstances that his previous comments lead the reader to expect, immediately afterward (2.3.2),132 he proceeds to describe the election of the Thirty, the most tyrannical set of rulers in the history of Athens. Similarly, Xenophon shows the Spartans (5.3.27), Lycomedes (7.1.23), Jason (6.4.28), and Euphron (7.1.44– 46) at their heights, only to dash them down immediately to the depths.133 To enable these peripeteiai to make the biggest dramatic impact upon the reader, however, Xenophon sometimes is forced to tamper with chronology (as he does with the date of Euphron’s coup and the missing year of Jason’s reign) or to suppress mention of the historical character earlier in his narrative in places where one might expect it (as in the case with Lycomedes). I suggest Xenophon exploits this same dramatic technique with Epaminondas. It is not so much through bias against Thebes that Epaminondas appears very little in the Hellenica prior to the Mantinea campaign (though we should note that at 7.1.41– 42, the only place where he does appear, he is characterized as a loyal friend), but rather because Xenophon wants to set up a peripeteia.134 By portraying Epaminondas only at the height of his powers, Xenophon shows dramatically how far he falls as a result of his excessive philotimia. With his use of peripeteiai, he recreates for the moment a time when the inevitable sad conclusion, of which his readers doubtless were aware, seemed as though it might turn out happily after all. This technique allows him not only to make the contrast between the real and the expected outcome more dramatic, but also to show the moral flaw of the 132. That is, if one omits the two interpolated passages in between. 133. Sudden reversals of fortune (although of a less extreme degree) also beset the Spartans at Haliartus (3.5.5– 24) and Agesilaus with the news of Cnidus (4.3.1– 10) and the reversal at Lechaeum (4.4.17– 4.5.18); see Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian, 111– 12; Gray, Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica, 157– 63; and Tuplin, Failings of Empire, 69– 72. 134. Both Henry (Greek Historical Writing, 200– 204) and Higgins (Xenophon the Athenian, 119) suggest that Xenophon reserves Epaminondas’s role in Greek affairs until Mantinea for dramatic reasons, but neither takes the moral aspect of the dramatic peripeteia into full consideration.

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individual or state in question prevents the expectation generated by the narrative from coming to fruition. The techniques Xenophon uses to teach his moral lessons in the Hellenica tend not to be explicit. The use of paradigms, speeches, digressions, anecdotes, and peripeteiai allows Xenophon to avoid direct condemnation, all the while underlining the moral lesson intended with a certain amount of flair. The more literary qualities of these techniques appear inspired, at least in part, by Herodotus, but Xenophon is more overtly moral in judgment. In fact, the moral framework for these techniques seems to owe more to Socrates, who has a similar reluctance to express direct condemnation, preferring to educate his interlocutors, at least indirectly, by the use of examples and models. With Xenophon, for the first time, history becomes primarily moral and paradigmatic. Nevertheless, Xenophon is more interested in the moral lessons to be gained from historical events than in preserving an accurate record of the past, and throughout the Hellenica he omits, postpones, or underemphasizes important political and military developments in order to provide a better or more dramatic moral lesson. Likewise, he often gives relatively minor people and events, for their intrinsic moral value, as much space or more than important ones. In general, larger truths about the past are more important than the accurate recording of the details of individual historical events. The result is a somewhat uneven presentation of the past, from our more detached perspective, but it is important to note that Xenophon left a powerful legacy, for the later fourth century and the Hellenistic and Roman historians largely follow his lead in making the moral lessons offered by the past the most prominent element of their works.135 Despite the influence Xenophon had on later historians, in the Hellenica he is speaking more extensively to his contemporaries. We have noted how he favors military virtues and the political system of moderate oligarchy, both of which can be found in the old Spartan constitution, before it became corrupt with both wealth and power in Xenophon’s own day, which is precisely the reason why some see a pro-Spartan bias in the Hellenica. In both an oligarchy and a properly functioning army, a topdown chain of command, self-discipline and a willingness to work hard, the ability to instill loyalty and obedience in one’s subordinates, the keep135. On the historiographical legacy of Xenophon, see my “Condemnation of the Impious,” 274– 76.

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ing of good order, and piety in order to keep the favor of the gods are necessary to achieve success. The military commander or the politician who is deficient in any of these areas is destined to fail in his objectives. Moreover, Xenophon does not approve of imperialism, and he demonstrates how it corrupts and then leads to the downfall of both states, as in the cases of Athens and Sparta, and individuals. Xenophon certainly encourages his readers to adhere to these basic moral guidelines, but he also has a more specific prescriptive purpose in mind. Later in the century, Aristotle (Politics 1305a 10– 15) says the rise of rhetoric has led to those talented at speaking becoming prominent in politics, whereas, through inexperience, they do not become involved in military affairs. Xenophon, with his insistence upon military virtue and disapproval of rhetoric when used by demagogues to lead people away  did not approve of the shortcut to a political from excellence (αρετ η), career offered by the sophists, with their emphasis on rhetoric. Because rhetoric panders to the lowest common denominator, it cannot be effective. As he states in the conclusion to the Cynegeticus, the sophists do not lead the young to virtue (13.1), and those politicians who are taught by the sophists are even less useful to the city than private citizens, for they are physically unfit for war through their incapacity for toil (13.11). Xenophon, it seems, advocates a return to the system, before the advent of the sophists and the rise of rhetoric, in which military experience was a prerequisite for a political career.136 Through this reinvigoration of a military career as the path to political success,137 he hopes to direct his fellow aristocrats, many of whom had become apragmones, fed up with the success of demagogues in the Athenian democracy, back into politics.138 The return of the aristocrats to political power would spell the end of the despised democracy and the rule of the crowd, the destructive forces of which Xenophon so vividly articulates in his narrative of the aftermath of Arginusae. The disastrous rule of the Thirty, however, made it abundantly 136. Peter Hunt (Slaves, Warfare, and Ideology, 153– 58) has reached a similar conclusion, that the aim of Xenophon’s militarism was the reassertion of elite rule. 137. My interpretation of Xenophon’s emphasis upon military virtue differs slightly from Steven Johnstone’s argument (“Virtuous Toil, Vicious Work,” 219– 40) that Xenophon was concerned to mitigate intra-elite competition by shifting its focus to those activities through which the aristocrats maintained their status, such as hunting, athletics, and the practice of war. 138. On the apragmones, see W. Robert Connor, The New Politicians of Fifth-Century Athens (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971; reprint, Indianapolis: Hackett, 1992), 175– 98; and L. B. Carter, The Quiet Athenian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1986).

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clear that the aristocrats could not simply be left to their own devices; they had to be taught political virtue. In the Hellenica, Xenophon offers his fellow aristocrats a practical way to put politics back onto what he perceives to be a moral path, with the added inducement that moral behavior would lead to military and political success. He, therefore, like Plato, forms part of the literary resistance to Athenian democratic ideology so well articulated by Josiah Ober, although Xenophon and the other fourthcentury historians do not form part of Ober’s study.139

139. Josiah Ober, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens: Intellectual Critics of Popular Rule (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998).

chapter four

Ephorus’s History


A

lthough his work does not survive, Ephorus of Cyme (FGrHist 70) exerted a large influence on succeeding historians.1 He was apparently a prolific writer. The work he is best known for is a History in thirty books (T 1, FF 7– 96, 201– 36). Its title is variously given in our sources in both the singular and the plural, perhaps because the work originally had no title, as the Suda entry appears to indicate (T 1). For ease of reference, I shall follow Strabo (13.3.6⫽T 2) and use the singular. In addition to his  History, Ephorus is attested to have written a local history ( Επιχ ωριος   λογος) (FF 1, 97– 103), a treatise on style (Περ ι Λεξεως) (FF 6, 107– 8),   των) in two books (T 1, FF 2– 5, and an On Inventions (Περ ι Ευρηµα 104– 6). The Suda indicates that Ephorus’s work also included a work On

Virtues and Vices (Περ ι αγαθω ν κα ι κακων) in twenty-four books and a  Marvels (Παραδοξων) in fifteen (T 1). Since neither of these works has left any traces in later sources, it is likely they were later collections of excerpts from Ephorus’s History.2 The fact that later sources were able to draw twenty-four books containing edifying material on virtues and vices and 1. Charles William Fornara, The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1983), 44– 46. 2. E. Schwartz, “Ephoros,” RE 11 (1907), 1– 16, and Kenneth S. Sacks, Diodorus Siculus and the First Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 26 n. 7.

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fifteen books of marvels from Ephorus’s larger historical work illustrates the latter’s overall moralizing nature (even if the books of excerpts were much smaller). Ephorus was the first to write a universal history,3 the topics of which were arranged thematically (kata genos) (T 11), probably geographically.4 For both these attributes, his History has gained many successors. In his History, Ephorus decided to avoid the “mythological period,”5  because of its difficulty (δυσχερεια), as Diodorus tells us (4.1.2⫽T 8). We can infer from Harpocration (s.v. αρχαι ως⫽F 9) that for Ephorus, the difficulty in discussing the ancient past involved the unreliability of details preserved over so long a period of time. Accordingly, Ephorus began his work with the Return of the Heracleidae,6 a choice that may well have been determined because it formed the termination of Hellanicus’s mythographical work,7 and concluded it with the siege of Perinthus in 341/0. The large scope of his History would have offered Ephorus fertile material for the moralizing interests that the collection of excerpts entitled On Virtues and Vices dicates he had. Because Ephorus’s History does not survive, it is necessary first to examine to what extent the distortions imposed by the fragmentary nature of the extant portion of his work impede us from an accurate knowledge of his purpose and methods.8 Then, with these limitations in mind, we shall  3. τα καθολου (Polybius 5.33.2⫽T 7), κοινα ι πραξεις (Diodorus 4.1.3⫽T 8, 5.1.4⫽T 11); cf. J. M. Alonso-Nu´ nez, ˜ “The Emergence of Universal Historiography from the 4th to the 2nd Centuries b.c.,” in Purposes of History: Studies in Greek History from the 4th to the 2nd Centuries B .C ., Studia Hellenistica 30, ed. Herman Verdin, Guido Schepens, and Els de Keyser (Louvain: n.p., 1990), 173– 92.  4. Robert Drews, “Ephorus and History Written κατα γενος,” AJP 84 (1963): 244– 55  and “Ephorus’ κατα γενος History Revisited,” Hermes 104 (1976): 497– 98. Pietro Vannicelli (“L’Economia delle storie di Eforo,” RFIC 115 [1987]: 165– 91), however, believes that Ephorus had more systematic structural ambitions. 5. Diodorus 4.1.3⫽T 8: “. . . he passed over the mythological period and, having set in order events that took place after the Return of the Heracleidae, he made this
the beginning
  µ εν  παλαιας  µυθολογι ας υπερ  ο της Ηρακλειδων of his history” (. . . τας εβη, τα
δ’ απ    ην  ε ποιησατο  καθοδου πραχθεντα συνταξαµενος ταυτην αρχ της ι στορι ας). 6. Diodorus 4.1.3⫽T 8 and 16.76.5⫽T 10; the Suda (s.v. Εφιππος⫽T 1), however, states that Ephorus began his History from the Trojan War, about eighty years before the Return of the Heracleidae, according to Greek tradition (Thucydides 1.12.3). Diodorus, who clearly worked closely from Ephorus’s history, is the more likely of the two to be correct. 7. F. Jacoby, “Hellanikos,” RE 8 (1913), 148– 50, and FGrHist IIC, 25– 26; and Fornara, The Nature of History, 8– 9. 8. For the difficulties of working with fragments, see the salutary remarks of Lionel Pearson (“Lost Greek Historians Judged by Their Fragments,” G&R 12 [1943]: 43– 56 [with special attention to the extant fragments of Hecataeus, Ephorus, and Philochorus]);

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examine Ephorus’s self-presentation as an accurate researcher, his most obvious deviations from his goal of accuracy, the moral virtues with which he appears most particularly concerned, and the methods by which he imparted them to the readers of his History. In conclusion, there will be an assessment of the extent to which Ephorus’s moralizing priorities influenced his interpretation of the past. Before turning to an investigation of the moralizing characteristics of the fragments themselves, it would be wise to examine whence the fragments are derived, with two questions specifically in mind. First of all, how accurate are these later authors in their citations of Ephorus? And second, do these fragments give a representative view of the History of Ephorus, or are they skewed by the interests and prejudices of the later writers who cite him? Unfortunately, as Ephorus’s History is not extant, with the possible exception of what is preserved on papyrus,9 we are forced to rely solely upon the passages that later writers cite under the name of Ephorus (fragments) and the judgments these writers make of him (testimonia). The sources of the fragments of Ephorus’s History compiled by Jacoby are a varied lot. It is unfortunate that we do not have for Ephorus the equivalent of an Athenaeus, who, as we shall see, has preserved for posterity long passages of Theopompus, often quoting the writer directly. Athenaeus does, however, preserve eight of the extant fragments from Ephorus’s History (FF 11, 29, 48, 54, 71, 96, 180, and 183). All of them are brief, but four appear to give longer extracts of Ephorus’s own words (FF 29, 54, 71, and 96), rather than short paraphrases. Descriptions of decadence and debauchery, of which Athenaeus P. A. Brunt (“On Historical Fragments and Epitomes,” CQ n.s., 30 [1980]: 477– 94 [a good general account]); Wesley E. Thompson (“Fragments of the Preserved Historians— Especially Polybius,” The Greek Historians: Papers Presented to A. E. Raubitschek [Saratoga, Calif.: ANMA Libri, 1985], 119– 39); and Mark Toher (“On the Use of Nicolaus’ Historical Fragments,” ClAnt 8 [1989]: 159– 72]). 9. Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 1610 has been included in FGrHist 70 as F 191, particularly on the basis of its correspondence with Diodorus 11.56– 69, who is supposed to have based this section of his Bibliotheke closely upon Ephorus. Despite the doubts of, e.g., Thomas W. Africa, “Ephorus and Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 1610,” AJP 83 (1962): 86– 89, and Robert Milns, “Some Critical Observations on Ephorus: Fragments 119, 111, and Testimony 23 (Jacoby),” Vindex Humanitatis: Essays in Honor of John Huntly Bishop, ed. Bruce Marshall (Armidale, New South Wales: University of New England, 1980), 46– 57, at 56– 57, the identification of this fragment as Ephorus remains the most likely possibility (see Catherine Reid Rubincam, “A Note on Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 1610,” Phoenix 30 [1976]: 357 and n. 2). Another papyrus fragment (FGrHist 105 F2), which has not been included in FGrHist 70, is likely to be Ephorus (cf. Jacoby, FGrHist IIC, 337– 38). Full discussion of its contents will appear below.

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found such an abundance in Theopompus, are conspicuous by their absence, which indicates that these topics were less of a concern to Ephorus. Perhaps as a result of the geographical diversity to be found in Ephorus’s History, two writers with a special interest in geography provide us with the greatest number of fragments. Stephanus of Byzantium preserves over fifty of the fragments extant from the History. Because most of these fragments are single-line geographical entries, they do not give much of an indication as to the character of the original. Furthermore, Stephanus’s background as a grammarian and his lack of geographical knowledge impede his ability to reproduce his own sources exactly, making him a less than perfectly dependable authority for what Ephorus actually wrote.10 Although Strabo comes second in the actual number of fragments he preserves,11 the extracts he does provide are often long and continuous. There seem mostly to be summaries, but Strabo sometimes does reproduce Ephorus’s own words, apparently for emphasis.12 It is important to note that, in the places where Strabo’s citation of Ephorus can be verified, he appears to give a faithful reproduction of his source. Strabo 9.3.12 (⫽F 31b) is particularly instructive because Theon’s citation of the same passage of Ephorus (Progymnasmata 2⫽F 31a) employs the same adjectives to  describe Tityus, violent (βι αιος) and lawless (παρανοµος). Likewise, the anonymous author of a Periplus of the Euxine Sea (⫽F 158) paraphrases all the essential material contained in Strabo’s citation of Ephorus’s description of the Nomad Scythians (8.3.9⫽F 42).13 Thus, Strabo’s citations of Ephorus, particularly when they can be checked against other sources, can be trusted. Aside from various scholiasts and grammarians who use Ephorus as an 10. Catherine I. Reid [Rubincam] (“Ephoros Fragment 76 and Diodoros on the Cypriote War,” Phoenix 28 [1974]: 123– 43) discusses the question of the reliability of Stephanus’s lexicon (128– 32). 11. John Wickersham (Hegemony and Greek Historians [Lanham, Md.: Rowan & Littlefield, 1994], 120 n. 4) has calculated that 59 of the 272 entires in FGrHist 70 come from Stephanus’s Ethnica, and 48 from Strabo. 12. Pace Milns, “Some Critical Observations on Ephorus,” 47– 49. 13. Also, Strabo 8.8.5 (⫽F 18b) can be checked against Theon (Progymnasmata 2⫽F 18a) and [Scymnus] 516 (⫽F 18c), Strabo 1.2.28 (⫽F 30a) against a Christian geographical writer (⫽F 30b) and [Scymnus] 167– 82 (⫽F 30c), Strabo 8.3.9 (⫽F 42) against a scholiast to Apollonius Rhodius
1.1276 (⫽F 42a), Strabo 12.3.21 (⫽F 114a) against Stephanus of Byzantium (s.v. Αλιζωνες⫽F 114b), Strabo 4.4.6 (⫽F 131a) against [Scymnus] 183 (⫽F 131b), Strabo 5.4.5 (⫽F 134a) against [Scymnus] 236 (⫽F 134b), Strabo 6.2.2 (⫽F 137a) against [Scymnus] 264 (⫽F 137b), Strabo 6.1.7– 8 (⫽F 138a and 139) against [Scymnus] 264 (⫽F 138b), and Strabo 10.4.16– 22 (⫽F 149) against Polybius 6.45.1– 10 (⫽F 148).

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authority for all sorts of often obscure details (anonymous scholiasts preserve over forty citations of Ephorus), numerically the next best represented source for fragments of Ephorus is Plutarch, who preserves sixteen fragments, most of which consist of at least five lines in Jacoby’s compilation. Plutarch drew upon a wealth of reading for each of his Lives, with sources including narrative historians, comedy, political documents, philosophers, orators, oral tradition, and personal observation;14 it is important to note that he especially preferred historiographical material as sources for his Lives.15 When engaged in selecting and arranging this mass of material, however, he was forced to rely often on his notes or memory.16 Given this method of work, Plutarch is unlikely to have reproduced the actual words of his sources and probably resorted to paraphrasing or otherwise adapting his material.17 Furthermore, his purpose was to provide the reader with edifying information on the characters of great men (Alexander 1). Because his main reason for consulting his sources was to derive anecdotal material providing information on the characters of the subjects of his Lives, naturally Plutarch was less interested in verifying the details of his citations from them than in recording the main point. It is perhaps for this reason that of Plutarch’s sixteen citations of Ephorus, only one (F 189), quotes its source directly. There is no evidence, however, for Plutarch’s altering the words of his sources to express the opposite of the original intent.18 Therefore, it is necessary to keep in mind that Plutarch’s citations from Ephorus may have preserved the spirit but not necessarily the letter of the original. A thornier problem is the extent to which Ephorus is reflected in the Bibliotheke of Diodorus Siculus. It was considered an established fact for nearly a century that Diodorus used Ephorus as his main authority for books 11 through 16, with the exception of most of the Sicilian

14. For the wide range of Plutarch’s reading, see Konrat Ziegler, “Plutarchos,” RE 21.1 (1951), 911– 14, and D. A. Russell, Plutarch (London: Gerald Duckworth, 1972), 42– 62. 15. Barbara Scardigli (ed.), introduction to Essays on Plutarch’s Lives (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 2– 7. 16. A. W. Gomme, A Historical Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1945), 54– 84; and C. B. R. Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method of Work in the Roman Lives,” JHS 99 (1979): 74– 96; reprinted with new material in Essays on Plutarch’s Lives, 265– 318. 17. C. B. R. Pelling, “Plutarch’s Adaptation of His Source-Material,” JHS 100 (1980): 127– 40; reprinted in Essays on Plutarch’s Lives, 125– 54. 18. Gordon Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1991), 176 and n. 36.

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narrative.19 Until the middle of this century, it was generally assumed Diodorus was capable of no more than mechanically reproducing the words of his sources and that as a result, all the moralizing sentiments contained in books 11 through 16 belonged by rights to Ephorus.20 Recently, however, the reputation of Diodorus has undergone something of a renaissance, and it is now conceded that he was indeed able to formulate his own moral agenda to which he adhered consistently throughout the Bibliotheke.21 As a result of this reassessment, it can no longer be assumed that whenever Diodorus names no source in books 11 through 16 of the Bibliotheke, he is automatically reproducing Ephorus. We are thus left with the eleven citations compiled by Jacoby where Diodorus cites Ephorus by name. Nevertheless, Diodorus’s use of Ephorus in these eleven specific citations is instructive, for in seven, he either criticizes Ephorus or includes him under the rubric of “other authorities.”22 If his usual practice is to name Ephorus in cases of disagreement, it is very possible that he borrowed anonymously in other places, although we cannot use Diodorus’s narrative as evidence for what Ephorus actually wrote in the absence of concrete proof of authorship. Furthermore, since he never quotes directly from Ephorus, we must assume that Diodorus is either paraphrasing or condensing his source. In the one instance where Diodorus’s explicit citation of Ephorus can be checked against that of other sources, he can be shown to have preserved the essence of his argument.23 Thus, it seems likely that Diodorus preserves an accurate report of the substance of Ephorus’s History in the places where he specifically cites it, but we must be 19. This assumption began with C. A. Volquardsen (Untersuchungen uber ¨ die Quellen der griechischen und sicilischen Geschichten bei Diodor, Buch XI bis XVI [diss., Kiel, 1868]) and was widely disseminated by E. Schwartz (“Diodoros” RE 5 [1903], 679). 20. See, e.g., G. L. Barber’s treatment of Diodorus as a mere mouthpiece of Ephorus (The Historian Ephorus [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1935; repr. Chicago: Ares, 1993]), esp. 21– 22 and 103 (this is the only monograph on Ephorus but is now very outdated). 21. Recent and detailed discussions of this question can now to be found in Sacks, Diodorus Siculus and the First Century, chapters 1 and 2, and Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, 150– 77. 22. Diodorus contradicts Ephorus twice in his own persona (1.39.7– 8⫽F 65e and 1.9.5⫽F 109) and cites him five times in cases of disagreement between authorities (13.54.5 ⫽F 201, 13.60.5⫽F 202, 13.80.5⫽F 203, 14.54.5⫽F 204, and 15.60.5⫽F 214). It should be noted, however, that the first four of these cases concern Sicilian affairs, for which the case for Ephorus as the main authority was never established. 23. Diodorus 1.37.4 (⫽F 65e) can be checked against the citations of five other authorities (F 65a– d, f ).

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careful not to impute any explicit moral judgments to Ephorus, since they may belong to Diodorus himself. In our attempt to discover the extent to which Ephorus was willing to misrepresent history for the purpose of moral instruction, we must bear in mind that Strabo provides the most trustworthy citations for the earlier part of Ephorus’s History, while the most reliable sources for the later sections appear to be Plutarch and Diodorus. It is important to remember, however, that few citations of Ephorus are verbatim and that most authorities provide paraphrases of the original. In order to gain insight into the tone of the work, it is necessary to turn to the comments that later writers have made
(testimonia). On the whole, his style is described as supine and loose (υπτιον 24 and he seems to have earned a reputation for dullness, the 

κα ι ανειµ ενον), most famous expression of which can be found in the quip (considered apocryphal by those scholars who do not believe in the student/teacher relationship) from his teacher Isocrates, that Ephorus needed the spur whereas Theopompus required the rein.25 Duris of Samos criticizes both

in Ephorus and Theopompus for the lack of mimesis and pleasure (η δονη) their writing, claiming that they were concerned only with the act of writing (το γρα φειν) (FGrHist 76 F 1⫽FGrHist 70 T 22 and FGrHist 115 T 34). Vivienna Gray has recently demonstrated that by mimesis Duris means an imitative style, which he opposes to an artificial, epideictic “written” style.26 The implication is that Ephorus did not vary his style in any significant way, which would naturally lead to a failure to imitate. In any case, it is perhaps because of Ephorus’s dull style that few verbatim citations survive. Despite their limitations, the extant fragments clearly indicate that Ephorus presented himself as a careful researcher. First of all, he appears to have been most assiduous in his gathering of information. The extant fragments indicate Ephorus’s wide use of other historians as source material for his History, as well as of poets, playwrights, political treatises, epigraphical texts, oracles, and various linguistic materials.27 Polybius (12.27.7⫽F 110)
24. Dio Chrysostom 18.10 (⫽T 25). The Suda concurs (s.v. Εφορος Κυµαι ος κα ι


Θεοποµπος ∆αµασιστρα του⫽T 28a): “. . . supine, dull, and without intensity” (. . . υπτιος

κα ι µηδεµι αν εχων ε πι τασιν). κα ι νωθρος 25. T 28. See also Hortensius’s remark (FGrHist 115 T 40): “What can be found that is more succinct than Philistus, more bitter than Theopompus, or more mild than Ephorus?” (quid . . . Philisto brevius aut Theopompo acrius aut Ephoro mitius inveniri potest?) 26. Vivienne Gray, “Mimesis in Greek Historical Theory,” AJP 108 (1987): 467– 86. 27. Guido Schepens (“Historiographical Problems in Ephorus,” Historiographia Antiqua (Louvain: Leuven University Press, 1977), 95– 118 at 103 and nn. 38– 53) provides references to particular fragments.

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records Ephorus to have said that if it were possible for a historian to be present at all events, this would be by far the best source of information. As Guido Schepens brings to our attention, this statement shows that Ephorus is aware that personal observation of all the events he describes is an impossible feat; he is much more explicit than either Herodotus (2.99) or Thucydides (1.22.2) on the limits imposed by autopsy.28 Isocrates (12.149– 50) expresses a similar sentiment, which lends further credence to a direct relationship between the two. Since Ephorus began his History with events long before his own day, it was impossible to obtain information from firsthand witnesses for the first half of the work.29 Nevertheless, even in the sections of his history for which firsthand information was not available, Ephorus seems to have made a conscious effort to choose the most direct sources possible.30 Not only was Ephorus careful in his choice of source to follow, but the extant fragments show he had (or at least professed to have) some concern for accuracy. Strabo tells us (9.3.11⫽F 31b) that Ephorus criticized those who were fond of legends in their historical writing and praised truthful







ness (ε πιτιµησας γουν τοι ς φιλοµυθουσιν ε ν τ η της ι στορι ας γραφ η

αλ  ηθειαν

κα ι τ ην ε παινεσας). According to Diodorus (4.1.2– 3⫽T 8), Ephorus avoided the legendary and passed over the mythological period in 

παλαιας

µυθολογι ας υπερ

his History (τας εβη). Notably, Isocrates also professes awareness of the unreliability of the mythological tradition,31 which again may indicate the existence of a direct relationship between him and Ephorus. Since Ephorus claimed to strive for accuracy, it would be useful to examine those passages in which he deviates from his stated historiographical aims to see whether he does so in a moralizing context.32 Ephorus’s most obvious deviation is one for which he is criticized by Strabo in two places (9.3.11– 12⫽F 31b and 10.3.2– 4⫽T 15 and F 122). Despite his stated intention not to include the mythological period, Epho´ 28. Guido Schepens, “Ephore sur la valeur de l’autopsie (FGrHist 70 F 110⫽Polybe XII 27.7),” Ancient Society 1 (1970): 163– 82. 29. Jacoby (FGrHist 70, 27– 30) gives a tentative reconstruction of Ephorus’s thirty books. 30. Schepens, “Historiographical Problems in Ephorus,” 113. 31. See, e.g., 9.66 and 12.1, with the comments of S. Perlman, “The Historical Example, Its Use and Importance as Political Propaganda in the Attic Orators,” SH 7 (1961): 150– 66, at 158– 59. 32. He allegedly also had a patriotic bias in favor of his native town of Cyme (F 236), but see Deborah Hobson Samuel, “Cyme and the Veracity of Ephorus,” TAPA 99 (1968): 375– 88.

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rus does lapse into a discussion of it at the beginning of his History, perhaps because the first five books formed a prologue to the main narrative. The most noteworthy feature of our first example, an account of the foundation of the Delphic oracle, is the apologetic tone with which he introduces his discussion. According to Strabo (9.3.11– 12⫽F 31b), Ephorus himself seems to have been somewhat self-conscious about breaking his own principle and prefaces his account with the explanation that it would be absurd  (ατοπον) to tell the truth about all other matters but to pass on untrustworthy and lying stories about the most truthful of all oracles. He proceeds to show how Apollo and Themis (whom he rationalizes into a woman) established the oracle in order to help human beings by summoning them to

 civilization and by making them self-controlled (ε ι ς η µεροτητα προυκαλ


 ει το κα ι ε σωφρονιζε). Strabo records Ephorus as having recounted Apollo’s journey from Athens to Delphi, slaying Tityus on the way, who is rationalized to be a violent (βι αιος) and lawless (παρα νοµος) mortal, a ruler of Panopeus; Theon (Progymnasmata 2⫽F 31a) confirms the substance of this section of Strabo’s quotation. Upon Apollo’s arrival at Delphi, Ephorus says he civilized the original inhabitants by teaching them agriculture and other things beneficial to human life. He also slew a nasty fellow named Python, nicknamed Dracon (the Serpent), described as beastly

(θηρι ωδης), who undergoes a rationalization similar to that of Tityus, another detail confirmed by Theon (F 31a). It seems Ephorus not only broke his stated principle of avoiding the mythological period but also gave an edifying version when non-edifying ones were available to him.33 Even his rationalizations of the Tityus and Python myths seem to have a moral motivation. Ephorus makes it very clear that Apollo destroys Tityus and Python precisely because they are immoral and uncivilized. Moreover, Ephorus makes Apollo into a culturehero, very similar to Isocrates’ Evagoras (with the repeated use of the root η µερο-, there is also a verbal echo with the Isocratean passage).34 Like Evagoras, not only does Apollo civilize those whom he conquers, who are portrayed as barbarians, but he also endows them with knowledge of 33. Homer (Odyssey 11.576– 81) gives the unrationalized version of Tityus, a son of Gaia, who was punished in the underworld for having assaulted Leto. Joseph Fontenrose (Python: A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origins [Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1959], esp. 13– 22) distinguishes five entirely separate versions of this story (21). In what became the most common version of the myth, Apollo slew a male serpent named Python in order to establish his oracle at Delphi. 34. Cf. Strabo 9.3.11 and 12 (⫽F 31b) with Isocrates 9.67.

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the technai. Notably, Ephorus refers to Python as beastly (θηρι ωδης), a word commonly used to describe human life before the development of the technai in a number of fifth-century texts, including the Sisyphus fragment.35 Thus, both Isocrates and Ephorus transform the topos of Greek Kulturgeschichte into the moral realm. But as we saw above, Isocrates presents Evagoras as a culture-hero in order to disguise his imperialism, and certainly, despite its veneer as a moral exemplum, Ephorus’s version of Apollo’s arrival at Delphi could be read in the same way. Strabo refers to Ephorus’s discussion of the Delphic oracle when he levels a similar criticism at him for breaking his own principle of avoiding the distant past (10.3.3⫽T 15, F 122a).36 In this section, Strabo paraphrases his account of the foundation of the Aetolian nation, citing Ephorus as saying that the Aetolian nation remained unconquered due to the rough nature of the terrain and the training in warfare of the people. He then criticizes Ephorus for proceeding to narrate how the Epeians under Aetolus came from Elis and took over the country, expelling the indigenous Curetes. Ephorus is very apologetic for his lapse into mythology, for Strabo records him to have concluded this section by claiming that he is accustomed to providing an accurate discussion, whenever some matter is either entirely unknown or gives rise to false opinions.37 It becomes apparent from Strabo that one of the mistaken notions Ephorus was attempting to correct is that the Eleans were colonists of the Aetolians. This, even Strabo has to admit, Ephorus does disprove. The main point of Ephorus’s discussion is that the Aetolian nation remained unconquered throughout its history due to Aetolus’s own per

and the Aetolian people’s continued excellence in sonal valor (αρετ η) warfare. The obvious inference is that if the Aetolians had not been willing to live in a rugged country and work hard at military training, they would have been conquered themselves, just as they had conquered the Curetes. Therefore, the moral lesson underlying the degression is that valor and lack of concern for the comforts of life lead a society to continued freedom. Just as in the case of the foundation of the Delphic oracle, Ephorus goes out of 35. Charles H. Kahn, “Greek Religion and Philosophy in the Sisyphus Fragment,” Phronesis 42 (1997): 247– 62, at 258. 36. Despite his criticism of Ephorus, however, Strabo admits (10.3.5⫽F 122a): “Al
" though he has this flaw, Ephorus is nevertheless better than others . . .” (τοιουτος δ’ων


Εφορος ε τερων οµως κρει ττων ε στι ν
. . .).





 " 

" 37.
διακριβουν ε ι ωθαµεν, οταν  η τι των πραγµατων η παντελως απορουµενον η

ψευδη δοξαν εχον.

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his way to record an event before the Return of the Heracleidae, and a moral exemplum emerges. The occasion for Ephorus’s discussion of Aetolus is his discussion of the partitioning of the Peloponnese after the Return of the Heracleidae in book 1 (FF 18 and 115). Presumably his account of Aetolus’s descendant, Oxylus, and his triumphant return to Elis gave Ephorus the excuse to elaborate upon the Aetolians’ original departure from Elis. Similarly, his decision to begin his History with the Return of the Heracleidae permitted him to embark upon the exploits of Heracles in book 1. Two of these lapses into mythology can be worked fairly easily into the context of the return of Heracles’ descendants to the Peloponnese, for they stress benefits to them in return for favors done by Heracles in the past (FF 15 and 16). Although these discussions do have a moral point, in that they advocate the traditional Greek virtue of reciprocal generosity, they also have some relevance to this section of Ephorus’s narrative. In book 4 of the History, Ephorus returns to Heracles’ exploits, according to Theon (Progymnasmata 2.8⫽F 34). Ephorus says the men who dwelt in Pallene, which was formerly called Phlegra, were cruel, sacrilegious, and cannibalistic, and named Giants, presumably for these very traits. Heracles turned his attention to them after the capture of Troy and conquered them with a small force, although they were many, because they were impious. Strabo (7 frs. 25 and 27) gives an almost identical account and probably derives this section from Ephorus, as fr. 27a indicates. Just as in the case of Apollo’s slaying of Tityus and Python, Ephorus gives a rationalized version of the story, because usually Heracles’ opponents are supernatural giants, and not just unusually nasty mortals called Giants.38 By means of this rationalization, Ephorus brings the Giants’ punishment from the supernatural to the human realm and, by doing so, provides a more tangible example of the results that impiety and uncivilized behavior can bring human beings. We should perhaps note here the recent suggestion of Klaus Meister that Ephorus’s History is characterized by its rationalizing tendency.39 According to Meister, this rationalizing tendency is manifested in five aspects: (1) his decision to pass over the mythological period and begin with the Return of the Heracleidae (T 8); (2) rationalisms in the Hecataean style, such as that of 38. Apollodorus (1.6.1– 3) gives the fullest version of the fight between the gods and the Giants. 39. Klaus Meister, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung: Von den Anf¨angen bis zum Ende des Hellenismus (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1990), 88.

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Python into a man with the nickname of Dracon (F 31); (3) the substitution of Fortune (Tyche) for the divine; (4) the construction of false connections, such as the tradition that simultaneity of the battles of Salamis and Himera was the contrivance of Xerxes (F 186); and (5) the frequent use of the stylistic device of the doublet. Meister’s first point, as we have seen, is not really a rationalization, for Ephorus does occasionally lapse into the mythological period, although often with an apologetic statement. As for Meister’s third point, no references are given; it may be that he is reading a later, Hellenistic tendency (perhaps from Diodorus?) into Ephorus. As evidence for his fifth point, Meister cites Polybius’s criticism (6.46.10⫽F 148) that Ephorus gives almost identical descriptions of the Spartan and Cretan constitutions; Meister appears instead, however, to mean doublets of the notorious Diodorean type, for which there are no examples extant from Ephorus’s History. As we shall see from our discussion, even Ephorus’s rationalizations are techniques by which he expounds an exemplum and are therefore subordinated to his desire to moralize. Another digression, on the Argonauts, appears in book 9. His account differs from that recorded by Apollonius Rhodius (1.937– 1077), in which the Argonauts are attacked by the friendly Doliones by mistake, for, according to a scholiast to Apollonius (1.1037⫽F 61), Ephorus says that the Doliones attacked the inhabitants of Thessaly and Magnesia because they had been driven out by them.40 Another unplaced fragment, provided again by a scholiast to Apollonius (1.974⫽F 184), probably belongs to this digression, for it records the lineage of Cleite, the wife of Cyzicus, the king of the Doliones. According to Apollonius, the results of this battle were the total destruction of the Doliones at the hands of the Argonauts and the suicide of Cleite upon hearing the news. The result of the change in Ephorus’s version is that instead of the battle’s arising out of a tragic mistake, the Doliones become the aggressors. The implication then, is that, as such, they are responsible for their own destruction. By choosing (or inventing) this version of the myth, Ephorus makes a moral lesson out of an otherwise senseless loss of life. Another fragment, on the Pelasgians, may be connected to this digression on Cyzicus and the Argonauts, because Ephorus explicitly says the Doliones are Pelasgians.41 Strabo records Ephorus to have said (5.2.4⫽F 40. The scholiast adds that Callisthenes says that the Doliones attacked the Argonauts by night out of hate (FGrHist 124 F 6). 41. Jacoby places this fragment in books 1 to 3 of Ephorus’s History, although he concedes (FGrHist IIC, 64– 65) that it may be connected with the Cyzicus fragment (F 61).

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113) that because of their military lifestyle, the Pelasgians not only gained great glory but also spread all over Greece, including Crete, Thessaly, the Peloponnese, and even farther afield. On the authority of Hesiod, Ephorus states that the Pelasgian race originated in Arcadia. The Arcadians were known by the Greeks of the classical period as “acorn-eaters” (Herodotus 1.66), because the rugged nature of their land left them physically isolated from the more advanced cultures of the rest of Greece. Given this explicit connection with Arcadia, it is likely that Ephorus believed the Pelasgians, like the Arcadians, initially refrained from luxuries and practiced a simple lifestyle. This simplicity, as well as their military lifestyle, allowed the Pelasgians, like the Aetolians, to acquire such great glory and conquer so great an account of territory. Both Censorinus (De die natali 17.3⫽F 112a) and Pliny (Naturalis Historia 7.154⫽F 112b) confirm that Ephorus viewed the Arcadians as superior to other races, for they record him to have said that the ancient Arcadian kings sometimes lived for three hundred years. By the time of the Argonauts’ encounter with them at Cyzicus, however, the Pelasgians had declined from their previous strength. It seems likely that Ephorus’s discussion of the ancient Arcadians and Pelasgians was motivated by the desire to show that a military lifestyle, bringing with it the avoidance of luxuries, leads to both security and glory. His desire to make a moral point leads Ephorus to deviate on occasion not only from his intention to say little on the mythological past, but also from his concern for accuracy. Naturally, not all of Ephorus’s alleged inaccuracies can be attributed to a moral cause. For example, Diodorus (1.37.4 and 1.39.7– 8⫽F 65e and 1.39.13⫽T 16) complains about Ephorus’s inaccuracy on the subject of the behavior of the Nile, saying that he had neither visited the region himself nor sought reliable second-hand information. It seems Ephorus wanted to try his hand at this oft-debated topic in antiquity but met with no greater success than his predecessors. Nevertheless, there are some instances in which Ephorus’s seeming lack of concern for accuracy can be attributed to his desire to moralize. Seneca (Quaestiones Naturales 7.16.2– 3⫽T 14b and F 212) questions his reliability in the matter of the comet that allegedly presaged the destruction of the Peloponnesian cities of Helice and Bura. According to Seneca, Ephorus claims the comet split into two stars as it departed, a fact he alone reports. It is interesting to note that the comet was associated, by contemporary sources, with the destruction of Helice and Bura by earthquake and tidal wave (Callisthenes FGrHist 124 FF 20 and 21, and Aristotle, Meteorologica 343b, 344b, and 368b). Aristotle (343b) dates the comet (and hence

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the destruction) to the archonship of Asteius in 373/2 (Diodorus, never very reliable for his dates, records a comet in his entry for the following year), so theoretically all three of the fourth-century authorities, if not of an age to have been eyewitnesses to the event themselves, would have at least been able to question eyewitnesses. Since many authorities link the natural disasters, which resulted in the destruction, to some act of sacrilege committed by the citizens of the doomed cities,42 it is reasonable to infer that Ephorus mentions the comet to point out the moral lesson provided by the disaster. A heavenly portent that twinned would provide a much clearer presage of the fate of the two cities and would also indicate it was heavensent, as a result of some misdeed committed by their inhabitants. Diodorus

φυσι(15.48.4) makes the distinction between natural scientists (ο ι µ εν

κοι ), who attribute the disaster to natural causes, and those piously disposed



το θει ον), who believe  toward the divine (ο ι δ’ ευσεβω ς διακει µενοι προς the gods were responsible for the disaster as punishment for sacrilege. It seems likely that Ephorus’s sympathies lie with those of the second group, like Diodorus himself, who, although he is careful to preserve a judicious tone, indicates his true feelings by means of a cross-reference to the divine retribution incurred by those guilty of sacrilege at Delphi in the so-called Third Sacred War (16.61– 64). It is natural for Seneca to question the accuracy of Ephorus’s report, which indicates the portentous nature of the event more clearly than those of his contemporaries. Strabo too chides Ephorus for being less than accurate on occasion. One explicit criticism is for Ephorus’s contention that the Scythian Anacharsis was the inventor of the bellows, the two-fluked anchor, and the potter’s wheel (7.3.9⫽F 42). As Strabo points out, Ephorus is clearly wrong, since the potter’s wheel was known in Homer’s day (Iliad 18.600). Strabo also tells us that Ephorus numbered Anacharsis among the Seven Sages (an enumeration confirmed by Diogenes Laertius 1.41⫽F 182), on account of his thrift, self-control, and intelligence. Herodotus (4.76– 77) provides the only extant earlier account of Anacharsis, whom he dates to the middle of the sixth century,43 presenting him as a man of great knowl42. Diodorus (15.49.3), Heracleides of Pontus (Strabo 8.7.2), Pausanias (7.24.6), and Aelian (NA 11.19) all claim that the citizens brought disaster upon themselves by an act of sacrilege, but disagree as to what precisely the sacrilege was. Diogenes Laertius (3.20), on the authority of Favorinus, even attributes the destruction of ten Spartan ships that happened to be anchored nearby (Aelian 11.19) to their commander’s mistreatment of Plato! 43. Anacharsis is killed by the father of Idanthyrsus, who rules Scythia at the time of Darius’s invasion at the end of the sixth century (4.120).

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edge who traveled to many parts of the world. Ephorus seems to have followed a tradition similar to that of Herodotus, who says (4.76.2) Anacharisis brought much wisdom to the Scythians, which may indeed have included civilizing influences such as the invention of the bellows, the twofluked anchor, and the potter’s wheel. Once again, it seems, we find Ephorus emphasizing a culture-hero who brought the knowledge of the technai to a previously barbarian population. The Scythians associated with Anacharsis, however, were not ordinary barbarians, possibly as a result of his culture-bringing mission. An anonymous author of a Periplus cites Ephorus for the statement that Anacharsis was one of the Nomad Scythians, who are especially pious.44 According to Ephorus, the Nomad Scythians were not cannibalistic and fierce like some of the other Scythians, but rather drank mare’s milk and surpassed all others in justice (Strabo 7.3.9⫽F 42 and [Scymnus]⫽F 158). Moral rectitude and abstention from wine often go together in the portrayal of the “noble savage” in earlier Greek literature.45 Strabo (7.3.9⫽F 42) tells us Ephorus appealed to the epic tradition to support his claim that these Nomad Scythians were the most just, and then proceeded to an explanation of their superior justice: Having a simple way of life and not being money-grubbers with one another, they have good laws, having everything in common, including their wives, children, and the whole family. They are unconquerable and invincible to others, for they have nothing for which they can be enslaved.46 The Scythians’ lack of material wealth, then, is a direct cause of their justice and their invincibility. This too is a topos found in earlier Greek literature; in Herodotus, for example, those who practice simpler lifestyles in rugged countries often are more secure from external threat than are richer peoples.47 Ephorus differentiates himself from his predecessors,



σοφον

δ ε Ανα χαρσιν ε κ των Νοµαδικων φησ ι

44. [Scymnus] (⫽F 158): κα ι τον


των.

 γενεσθαι των σφοδρα ευσεβεστα 45. See, e.g., Herodotus 1.71.3, 1.216.4, and 3.23.1, with Stewart Flory, The Archaic Smile of Herodotus (Detroit: Wayne State

University Press, 1987), 81– 118.

τε αλλ    ηλους

46.
διοτι ται ς διαι ταις ευτελει ς οντες κα ι ου χρηµατιστα ι προς
 

γυναι κας κα ι τεκνα

ολην

ευνοµου νται, κοινα πα ντα εχοντες τα τε αλλα κα ι τας κα ι τ ην

τε τους

αµαχο  ερ

ε κτος   ι κητοι, ουδ  εν

εχοντες υπ

ου συγγενειαν, προς ι ε ι σι κα ι αν

δουλευσουσι. 47. See, e.g., 3.22, 4.23, and 9.122, and James Redfield, “Herodotus the Tourist,” CP 80 (1985): 97– 118.

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however, by prefacing his description of the Scythians with the claim that while the other writers tell of the dreadful and the marvelous for their shock value, he believes it necessary to tell the opposite too and to hold these up


as moral examples (δει ν δ ε ταναντ ι α κα ι λεγειν κα ι παραδει γµατα
ποιε ι σθαι). Charles Fornara has argued that Ephorus is not providing a moral paradigm but rather giving examples to correct an imbalance in the ethnographical tradition.48 Nevertheless, as F. W. Walbank remarks,49  the Greek does not allow Fornara’s interpretation, because ταναντ ι α must


be the object of both λεγειν and ποιε ι σθαι. Furthermore, there is no reason why the Greeks should not be given the example of the Nomad Scythians as a pattern of conduct, because, according to Strabo (7.3.9⫽F


η 42), Ephorus states they surpass all others in justice (τ η δικαιοσυν

πα ντων διαφερειν). Finally, this fragment should not be used to suggest that Ephorus provided only models of virtuous behavior;50 as we shall see, he frequently uses negative exempla, which must surely be designed as cautions against certain types of behavior. Strabo makes it clear that Ephorus specifically claimed the tradition of the “most just” Nomad Scythians was not just an invention of Homer but

a common report (κοιν η φηµη) that was deserving of belief. In this way, Ephorus uses the epic tradition buttressed by common report as evidence for his moral point, instead of trying to obtain information about the Nomad Scythians from a reliable source. In doing so, he openly disregards his own principle that if autopsy is not possible, information should be sought from as direct a source as possible. Furthermore, he commits a breach of historical good faith by presenting a tale of Homer as established fact.51 It should be noted that both Strabo (7.2.1⫽F 132) and Josephus (Contra Apionem 1.67⫽F 133) accuse Ephorus of attributing customs to certain tribes, which they did not have. It is possible he was somewhat overzealous in his assigning of virtuous traits in order to strengthen his moral case. From the preceding investigation, it is clear Ephorus was willing to stray from his stated historical principles and, what is more, that at times 48. Fornara, The Nature of History, 110– 12. 49. F. W. Walbank, Review of Fornara in JHS 105 (1985): 211. 50. As does Sacks (Diodorus Siculus and the First Century, 27– 29), based on Isocrates’ practice. 51. Michael A. Flower (“Simonides, Ephorus, and Herodotus on the Battle of Thermopylae,” CQ 48 [1998]: 365– 79, esp. 378– 79) argues that part of Ephorus’s method was to correct standard historical sources with poetic texts.

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he did so on purpose, to make a moral point. Moreover, these deviations also shed some light upon Ephorus’s moral viewpoint. The simplicity and lack of interest in wealth of the Nomad Scythians (F 42) led directly to their remaining unconquered by others. Similarly, one can infer from Ephorus’s statement (F 122a) that the Aetolians remained unconquered due to their military valor, lived in a rugged territory, and practiced a simple way of life, unattractive to the would-be conqueror. Ephorus seems to have endorsed virtues such as military valor, civic harmony, avoidance of luxury, and justice, which naturally lead to a free, strong, and peaceful society; excess wealth is to be avoided as detrimental to this goal. While the avoidance of flaunted wealth and excessive consumption may appear at first sight to be part of the democratic ideology of equality, it arises rather from the aristocratic viewpoint that individuals should not appear to be superior to others of their class.52 Let us now examine other fragments (that is, those containing neither digressions nor inaccurate statements) to see if we can learn anything further about Ephorus’s moral views. The desire to praise military valor may also lie behind Ephorus’s attribution of the invention of hoplite warfare to the Mantineans. Athenaeus (4.154d– e⫽F 54) cites Ephorus as the authority for the statement that the Mantineans and (other) Arcadians used to be skillful in warfare and this is why the ancient military garb and armor were called Mantinean. Everett Wheeler attributes a ban on the use of missiles in the Lelantine War, which he shows to be ahistorical, to Ephorus as the common source of Polybius (13.3.2– 4) and Strabo (10.1.12).53 He suggests Ephorus invented this prohibition to protest against fourthcentury artillery and to advocate a return to the ideal type of agonistic warfare. If Wheeler is correct, Ephorus’s discussion of the etymology of Mantinean armor may have a moral basis, because the ancient Mantineans presumably practiced the more civilized and humane warfare of old, of which Ephorus approved. Given his emphasis on military valor, it is not surprising that for Ephorus the epitome of a good social order was that of the Spartans. Although

the Spartans had been sensible (σωφρονες) right from the beginning, which is the opposite of what Herodotus (1.65) and Thucydides (1.18) 52. Christian Habicht, Athens from Alexander to Antony, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997), 55. 53. Everett L. Wheeler, “Ephorus and the Prohibition of Missiles,” TAPA 117 (1987): 157– 82.

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say about the early history of Sparta,54 the improvements of Lycurgus’s codification allowed them to gain their preeminent position in Greece (Strabo 8.5.5⫽F 118). In this way, Ephorus attributes the development of the excellent Spartan constitution to the semilegendary Lycurgus, who is supposed to have obtained it from the Cretans, getting also Apollo’s sanction at Delphi on the way home.55 Both Rhadamanthys, who is alleged to have been the originator of the Cretan constitution, and Minos, who is said to have developed it further, claimed to have received their instructions from Zeus,56 so the Spartan constitution is sanctioned by divine approval thrice over. In a passage that has been preserved as a separate fragment (Strabo 10.4.16⫽F 149), Ephorus details the chief features of the Spartan social order, as established by Lycurgus. He lays particular emphasis upon the

freedom enjoyed by the Spartans, attributing it to harmony (οµονοια), which arises from the elimination of dissension caused by greed (πλεον in favor of a communal lifestyle. Their moderεξι α) and luxury (τρυφη) ate lifestyle includes rigor and deprivations designed to foster courage  (ανδρε ι α). Moreover, the Spartans are not permitted by the terms of their constitution to own privately coined gold or silver, on punishment of death (Plutarch, Lysander 17⫽F 205). Even in times of civil strife, the Spartans manage to settle their affairs peacefully (Strabo 6.3.3⫽F 216). With this emphasis on moderation, courage, and harmony, Ephorus describes the Spartan lifestyle in terms remarkably similar to his description of the Scythians. Polybius remarks that Ephorus describes the constitutions of both Sparta and Crete in such similar terms that at any given moment the reader must look at the proper name in order to see which he is discussing (6.45.10⫽F 148). In this same passage (6.45.1), Polybius includes Ephorus in a group of authors whom he criticizes on two counts: for saying, first, that the Cretan constitution is similar to or identical to the Spartan and, second, that it is praiseworthy. The two constitutions are not at all alike, according to Polybius, because the Cretans, unlike the Spartans, are money-grubbers and democratic. Polybius’s criticism of Ephorus inter alios on these grounds appears to be somewhat unfair, since Strabo quotes him as praising the Cretans of older times (Strabo 10.4.9⫽F 33) and as saying 54. As noted by Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, 123. 55. Strabo 10.4.19⫽F 149 and Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 1.170⫽F 174. 56. Strabo 10.4.8⫽F 147 and 10.4.19⫽F 149 and Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 1.170⫽F 174.

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(5.4.2⫽F 113) that the Pelasgians, whose military lifestyle Ephorus appears to have admired, settled Crete, as Homer attests (Odyssey 19.175). Strabo also cites Ephorus as saying specifically that the Cretan constitution of his day had evolved into the complete opposite of the one the Spartans had imitated (10.4.17⫽F 149). Presumably, this love of money was one reason why Ephorus considered the Cretan constitution to have changed for the worse. As for the Spartans, so long as they retained the Lycurgan constitution, they retained the hegemony of Greece (such, at least, is the implication of F 118), and it is surely no coincidence that Sparta’s loss of hegemony at Leuctra coincided with reforms made to the Lycurgan constitution in the early fourth century (Plutarch, Lysander 17 and 30⫽FF 205 and 207).57 One can infer that military valor and civic concord, coupled with a lack of greed, were the elements necessary to maintain freedom. These elements in the (earlier) Cretan and the Spartan societies evidently appealed to Ephorus, and so he linked the two together as the examples par excellence of a (once) good social order. Both, however, do fall in the end, and the implication is that they do so as the result of the desire for wealth and luxury, which results in turn in a loss of hegemony. As other scholars have remarked, Ephorus views Greek history as a diadochy of hegemonies.58 A passage of Strabo (8.5.5⫽F 118) cites Ephorus as saying the hegemony of the Thebans succeeded that of the Spartans, and it seems likely, although none of the fragments explicitly state it, that the Cretans, under their former (good) constitution, held the hegemony at some point prior to the Spartans. The Thebans, however, do not retain their hegemony for long. The point of Ephorus’s digression on the early history of Boeotia, preserved by Strabo (9.2.2– 5⫽F 119), is to show that the Boeotians were unable to attain hegemony, despite the natural advantages offered by the terrain, because they did not concern themselves with educa

and culture (παιδει α). The Thebans did enjoy a short period tion (αγωγ η) of hegemony under the leadership of Epaminondas (that is, between Leuctra and Mantinea), but lost it again after his death (Strabo 9.2.2; cf. 57. See Wickersham (Hegemony and Greek Historians), who notes (154– 58), with proper skepticism on the use of Diodorus to fill in gaps in Ephorus’s narrative, that passages from Diodorus (esp. 7.12.5 and 8) state explicitly that the Spartans lost their hegemony through greed, with the introduction of coined money. 58. See Arnaldo Momigliano, “L’egemonia tebana in Senofonte e in Eforo,” Atene e Roma, ser. 3, 2 (1935): 101– 17; reprinted in Terzo contributo alla storia degli studi classici e del mondo antico, vol. 1 (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1966), 347– 65; and Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, esp. 119– 24.

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9.2.5⫽F 119). The reason Ephorus gives for the short duration of the Theban hegemony is that they did not pay sufficient attention to discourse

(λογοι) and close association (οµιλι α) with one another, but attended only



As the short-lived Theban hegeto military valor (η κατα πολεµον αρετ η). mony demonstrates, if civic harmony and cultural excellence are not present, then military prowess will ultimately prove unsuccessful.59 The absence of any certain reference to the fifth-century Athenian hegemony in the extant fragments is surprising. Although it is possible that none of the surviving sources saw fit to cite Ephorus on fifth-century Athens, for which a great deal of information was available elsewhere, F 118 seems positively to exclude an Athenian hegemony from Ephorus’s diadochy, for here he states the Spartans held the hegemony from the time of Lycurgus until they were superseded by the Thebans.60 Now, the restored text of Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 1610 (F 191), which has tentatively been identified as Ephorus on the strength of its correspondence with Diodorus 11.56– 69 (see above, n. 9), does make two references to Athenian hegemony acquired by Themistocles (frs. 3 and 4– 5). In both cases, however, the crucial word hegemony (η γεµονι α) has been almost entirely restored on the basis of Diodorus 11.59.1, where Themistocles is credited with depriving the Spartans of the naval hegemony during the Persian Wars. We cannot therefore accept POxy 1610 as proof that Ephorus did include the fifth-century Athenian hegemony in his diadochy, especially in contradiction to his statement in F 118. Perhaps he did not consider a maritime hegemony to count in the succession, or perhaps he did not care to attribute any good qualities to the fifth-century Athenians to justify their acquisition of the hegemony from the Spartans. In any case, with or without the presence of an Athenian hegemony, Ephorus’s reduction of Greek history to a succession of diadochies is overly simplistic. As the preceding survey has shown, the moral virtues with which Ephorus appears chiefly concerned are military valor and civic harmony, achieved through a simple lifestyle, on the one hand, and education and culture on the other. It seems that two influences in particular contribute toward the formation of Ephorus’s moral views. One is the approval of a rigorous, military rule exemplified stereotypically by the (earlier) Spartans, 59. On Ephorus’s account of the Theban hegemony, see Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, 124– 46. For the influence of Ephorus’s presentation of the Theban hegemony on later literature, see G. S. Shrimpton, “The Theban Supremacy in Fourth-Century Literature,” Phoenix 24 (1971): 310– 18. 60. As noted by Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, 120 and 144.

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in which a taste for luxury, once it creeps into a society, spells its downfall. This concept is similar to the transformation of “hard peoples” into “soft peoples” in Herodotus.61 The other emphasizes the importance of education and culture, without which a society will not prosper. Here we see the same sort of moral virtues espoused by Isocrates,62 with the same pragmatic basis. For Ephorus, however, a successful rule must combine elements from both camps. The question now arises of the methods by which Ephorus instilled these moral virtues in his readers. The most obvious method of doing so was to indicate approval and disapproval, but because almost all of the extant fragments from Ephorus’s History consist of citations from later sources, we cannot distinguish with certainty the various ways in which he may have done so. Nevertheless, it is clear Ephorus uses praise more frequently than blame in the extant fragments. As we have seen in his discussions of the foundation of the Delphic oracle, the Aetolians, the Nomad Scythians, and the Spartan and Cretan constitutions, he praises groups and institutions of which he approves, often at great length. To the examples already examined can be added his praise of the decent way in which Jason of Pherae treated his subjects (F 214), and of the celebrated words of Nausicaa to Odysseus (Homer, Odyssey 6.244), which he considered to be those of someone naturally disposed toward virtue (F 227). Plutarch (Dion 36⫽F 220) says Ephorus praised Philistus but does not specify on what grounds. The only other fragment relating to Philistus (Dion 35⫽F 219) says that he committed suicide rather than be captured by the Syracusans, whereas Timonides records him to have been captured alive. In this case, Philistus exemplifies the same kind of warrior ethic practiced by the Spartans, and for this reason perhaps deserves praise. The fragments extant from Ephorus’s History preserve few examples of explicit blame on moral grounds. An exception is his hostile treatment of the Athenian politician Pericles, whom he accuses of starting the Peloponnesian War in order to take attention away from his embezzlement of the finances of Athens (Diodorus 12.38– 41⫽F 196). The occasion presented itself readily when the people of Athens began to attack Pericles’ friends, the sculptor Pheidias and the philosopher Anaxagoras, and implicated the statesman himself in these attacks. At that point, Pericles thought it best to 61. Redfield, “Herodotus the Tourist.” 62. Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians, 135– 43.

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involve the city in a great war so that it would not continue these attacks against him or have the leisure to conduct any kind of audit of his management of financial affairs. If Diodorus provides an accurate reflection of what he said, Ephorus’s discussion of the outbreak of the war did not include what Thucydides terms “the complaints and quarrels” (α ι α ι τ ι αι κα ι διαφοραι ), the Corcyraean and Potidaean affairs, which precipitated

τη προφασις),

 the hostilities, or “the truest cause” (η αληθεστα Spartan fear of Athenian imperialism (1.23.5– 6).63 Instead, Ephorus attributes the war to shallow personal motives on the part of Pericles, the same sort of slander found in comedy or political oratory. These, of course, were probably his sources. As K. J. Dover has recently argued, Ephorus’s account of the causes of the Peloponnesian War reveals that he, like most writers who had not been raised in classical Athens, failed to understand the nature of political comedy of Aristophanes’ time. This inability to deal with the evidence of comedy, along with an alienation from politics and a lack of concern for the boundary between historical truth and fiction, leads to an overreliance upon anecdotes, gossip, and scandal as sources of historical fact.64 Ephorus is also recorded to have criticized Lysander, whom he reports to have attempted to bribe the priestesses at Delphi and Dodona and the priests of Ammon as well (Plutarch, Lysander 25⫽F 206). Although he was later prosecuted for bribery, Lysander was acquitted. The Libyans reproached the Spartans for their lack of justice in the case. Another implicit condemnation may be contained in Ephorus’s report that Agesilaus wanted to condemn Lysander’s speech on the constitution (Plutarch, Lysander 30⫽F 207), in which he allegedly argued the Spartans ought to abolish hereditary kingship, thereby changing the Lycurgan constitution Ephorus so admired. Ephorus does not condemn the speech explicitly but does mention that one of the ephors, a certain Lacratidas, whom he describes as

sensible (φρονιµος), dissuaded Agesilaus from publishing the speech upon its discovery, on the grounds it was so persuasive and wicked. Moreover, Plutarch (Lysander 17⫽F 205) uses Ephorus as a source for the name of the Spartan who tried to oppose the introduction of coined money into Sparta by Lysander. Plutarch refers to Lysander’s opponents on this issue as the

most sensible people in Sparta (ο ι φρονιµ ωτατοι), a term with which 63. For a discussion of the meanings of these words, see Gomme, A Historical Commentary on Thucydides, 1:153– 54. 64. K. J. Dover, “Anecdotes, Gossip and Scandal,” in The Greeks and Their Legacy: Collected Papers, vol. 2 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), 45– 52.

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Ephorus would have agreed, even if he cannot be proved to have been its source, since the influx of coined money would make Sparta into the sort of money-grubbing society he considered ripe for downfall. Sometimes Ephorus resorts to a mixture of praise and blame with the use of contrast. For example, the great justice of the Nomad Scythians (F 42 and F 158) is emphasized by contrast with the savage, perhaps even cannibalistic, nature of the other Scythians. Likewise, Ephorus contrasts the simplicity of the Spartans with the duplicity of the Asians. Athenaeus (11.500c⫽F 71), purportedly quoting Ephorus’s own words, cites him as saying the Spartans sent Dercylidas on campaign against the Asians, who were so different in nature from themselves, precisely because he was so un-Spartan,


being very wicked (πανουργος) and beastly (θηρι ωδης). It is interesting to

note Theon’s citation of Ephorus contains the same adjective (θηρι ωδης) applied to Python (F 31a). Also, Ephorus is said to have recorded nicknames for both men, Dracon for Python and Sisyphus for Dercylidas.65 Xenophon refers to Dercylidas’ nickname of Sisyphus (Hellenica 3.1.8), but in a clearly positive context.66 Perhaps, for Ephorus, Dercylidas’ un-Spartan nature was a clear condemnation, for he considered the Spartans to be both militarily and morally superior until Leuctra (F 118). Xenophon, on the other hand, perceived cracks in the Spartans’ moral superiority already by this time (notoriously at Hellenica 5.4.1) and was willing to concede that behavior untypical of a Spartan was not necessarily a bad thing. In any case, by the use of contrasts of this sort, the example that ought to be followed is made clearer to the reader. Another method Ephorus uses to indicate blame is negative exempla, perhaps because, like Xenophon, he seems to have preferred not to blame directly. Athenaeus (12.523e⫽F 183) cites Ephorus’s statement that the Milesians, so long as they did not live in luxury, were able to defeat the Scythians and to found large and prosperous cities. Strabo (14.1.6⫽F 127) gives Ephorus as the source for the statement that the first Miletus was a Cretan foundation. Since we have seen that Ephorus appears to have approved of the ancient Cretan social order, it is a natural inference the Cretans were able to wrest the land from the Leleges, its previous inhabitants, as a result of their strong and harmonious society. As we have seen already, once a society loses its simplistic lifestyle, the end is not far off. This 65. Note, however, that Sisyphus is Reiske’s emendation (from Xenophon, Hellenica

3.1.8) for the reading of Σκυφος in the manuscripts. 66. John Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times (London: Routledge, 1995), 271 n. 35.

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is the case with Miletus, for Athenaeus then turns to Aristotle, to whom he attributes the statement that when the Milesians succumbed to luxury, the strength of the city ended. The context for this fragment in Ephorus’s History appears to be an account of the repeated sufferings of Miletus in the late Archaic period.67 Herodotus records stasis in Miletus in the mid-sixth century (5.29), which left widespread ruin. At the time of the Ionian revolt, the Milesians not only suffered a severe military loss to the Persians (5.117– 21) but, upon the capture of Miletus, most of the men were killed, the women and children were sold into slavery, and the city was burnt to the ground (6.18– 21). In view of Ephorus’s opinions on the debilitating influence of wealth, one can infer he agreed with Aristotle that the Milesians’ yielding to luxury was responsible for their inability to maintain a strong society and their consequent destruction. Similarly, Ephorus implies that the desire for luxury in the case of both Datus (F 37) and the Myndones (F 90) led eventually to their loss of freedom. Harpocration (s.v. ∆α τος⫽F 37) gives Ephorus and Philochorus as his authorities for the fact that Datus changed its name after its conquest by Philip of Macedon. Earlier in his note, Harpocration characterizes Datus as very prosperous. Knowing Ephorus’s attitude toward wealth, one can infer his implication that Datus’s riches left it open to conquest by

Philip. Similarly, Stephanus (s.v. Μυνδωνες⫽F 90) cites Ephorus in his own words as having said the Myndones, a Libyan tribe, had a very rich livelihood. E. Schwartz suggests the occasion for their appearance in Ephorus’s History is the Libyan revolt from Carthage, which Diodorus dates to 379/8 (15.24).68 Since Diodorus remarks about the Carthaginians putting down the Libyans quickly, one wonders whether the wealth of the Myndones had anything to do with their swift subjugation. Likewise, those guilty of violent and impious behavior do not escape unscathed. We have already seen that Tityus’s and Python’s destruction at the hands of Apollo is attributed directly to their violent behavior (F 31). Similarly, Heracles destroys the men of Pallene, called Giants, who were savage, sacrilegious, and cannibalistic, and triumphs over foes who are more numerous as well as impious (F 34). The Phocian commanders, who stole the offerings to Apollo at Delphi, meet ironically appropriate fates (Athenaeus 6.232d⫽F 96).69 67. Jacoby hazards a guess of 495. 68. E. Schwartz, “Die Zeit des Ephoros,” Hermes 44 (1909): 481– 502, at 485. 69. F 96 is from the thirtieth book of the History, which some authorities attribute to Ephorus’s son Demophilus (Diodorus 16.14.3 and Athenaeus 6.232d⫽T 9a and b; cf. T 1).

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The perpetrators of other offenses also come to a bad end in Ephorus’s History. A scholiast on Plato’s Euthydemus (292e⫽F 19) cites

Κορινθος,

Ephorus as a source for the origin of the expression ∆ι ος which is applied to those who are overly arrogant but end up badly and


 

υπερσεµνυνοµ

wretchedly (των αγαν µ εν ενων, κακως δ ε κα ι πονηρως

 απαλλαττ οντων). Ephorus then narrates an anecdote in which the arrogant Corinthians are defeated by the Megarians, in supposed recompense for their oppressive behavior. A scholiast on Apollonius Rhodius (2.965⫽F 60a) cites Ephorus as the 

authority for the Amazons’ revenge for their mistreatment (υβριζ οµεναι) at the hands of their husbands. When their husbands went away to war, the Amazons killed those who had been left behind and did not allow those who had gone away to return. In this way, the violent end of the Amazons’ husbands appears deserved. A papyrus fragment, which could be attributed to Ephorus (FGrHist 105 F 2), tells of the accession of the Orthagorid tyranny at Sicyon. It begins with the disregarding of an oracle from Delphi. The Sicyonian embassy follows the other commands of the god but despises that regarding the



coming tyranny (της δ ε τυραννι δος της µελλουσης κατε[φρο]νησεν). As a direct result of the negligence of the embassy, Orthagoras is overlooked and duly becomes tyrant despite his humble birth. The fragment emphasizes that Orthagoras achieves his fated glory as a direct result of his courage and military valor, which Ephorus considers important virtues. Pheidon of Argos offers an example of what can happen to those who have become corrupt with power. First of all, he took control of the Peloponnese in an attempt to gain the whole Heraclid patrimony (Strabo 8.3.33⫽F 115). Just as Strabo indicates that in terms of external powermongering, Pheidon exceeded the estate allotted to him by attempting to seize the domain of Temenos, Aristotle (Politics 1310b) describes Pheidon, in terms of internal power-mongering, as a king who exceeded his hereditary powers and became tyrant. It is a little uncertain whether Ephorus refers to Pheidon’s external or internal ambition, but his description of him 

as having exceeded his contemporaries in power (δυνα µει δ’ υπερβεβληµ ε

κατ’ αυτ  ον) allows both interpretations. Second, Ephorus tells νον τους us that Pheidon forcibly took control over the festival at Olympia from the Eleans. Herodotus (6.127.3) explicitly comments that Pheidon’s celebration of the Olympic Games was an act of outstanding hubris; it seems likely Ephorus would agree. Ephorus also attributes the invention of coined silver in Greece to Pheidon of Argos (FF 115 and 176), but he is

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unlikely to be right, for the various dates given for Pheidon in the ancient sources predate the earliest coins.70 Ephorus’s attribution of coinage to him may be due to a confusion with Pheidon’s development of a standard of weights and measures71 —or perhaps due to a moral motive, for he seems not to have approved of Pheidon, and may for that reason have made him the creator of what he considered a most pernicious invention, coined money. In any case, the upshot of Ephorus’s narration of Pheidon’s tyranny is that the Spartans joined the Eleans and together they overthrew him, as a result Sparta regained control of the Peloponnese. A. Andrewes proposes in book 1 that Ephorus “presented the contrast between the three Heraklid kingdoms, the degeneration and downfall of the Argive and Messenian Heraklids as opposed to the salvation of the Spartan state by Lykourgos.”72 Pheidon, the first certifiably historical figure in the succession of kings, represented an interruption in the process by temporarily robbing Sparta of her hegemony, and his downfall ushered in a new phase in history for the Spartans. Another method Ephorus used to convey the moral virtues that he considered important was his use of prefaces, for Diodorus tells us that each book of his History began with its own preface (16.76.5⫽T 10). Unfortunately, nothing with certainty survives that can be identified as derived from the prefaces to individual books. We do have two references to the preface of Ephorus’s entire work. Polybius tells us that Ephorus in this preface asserts music was introduced among humans for the purpose of deceiving and casting spells (4.20.5⫽F 8).73 The references to deception and magic are reminiscent of Gorgias’s claim that these techniques lead to successful persuasion (DK 82 B 11), and it seems likely Ephorus is alluding disapprovingly to it.74 It is possible Ephorus used his preface to 70. Colin M. Kraay, Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (London: Methuen, 1976), 313. 71. Herodotus 6.127.3; Tod 2.140.80– 87; and Kraay, Archaic and Classical Greek Coins, 313– 315. 72. A. Andrewes, “Ephoros Book I and the Kings of Argos,” CQ n.s., 1 (1951): 39– 45; quotation from 39. 73. On the central role of music in Greek education and its perceived capacity to effect social and political change, see Robert W. Wallace, “Private Lives and Public Enemies: Freedom of Thought in Classical Athens,” in Athenian Identity and Civic Ideology, ed. Alan L. Boegehold and Adele C. Scaufuro (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 127– 55, at 140– 42. 74. Following a suggestion of Pohlenz, F. W. Walbank, “Profit or Amusement: Some Thoughts on the Motives of Hellenistic Historians,” in Purposes of History: Studies in Greek Historiography from the 4th to the 2nd Centuries B .C ., Studia Hellenistica 30, ed. Herman Verdin, Guido Schepens, and Els de Keyser (Louvain: n.p., 1990), 253– 66, at 253– 54 and n. 3.

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take aim at the amoral use of rhetoric of the sophists, replacing it with a new sort of persuasiveness through instruction from history, which provides less seductive moral improvement. Since Polybius adds that this statement was not characteristic of Ephorus, it does not shed much light upon his use of prefaces, except perhaps for the suggestion that he used them to express sentiments for which there was no context in the body of his work. Photius (F 7) says Ephorus’s preface to his History was very similar to that of Theopompus (apparently in his Philippica), especially in intention. The chief features of Theopompus’s preface seem to have been criticism of other historians (FGrHist 115 FF 24 and 25), and a statement of his historiographical principles (FF 25 and 26) and of the moral reasons that compelled him to write about Philip (F 27). Jacoby includes under the heading of prooimion the fragment from book one of Ephorus’s History preserved by Harpocration (F 9), in which Ephorus explains his historiographical principles. It is certainly possible the preface contained other Theopompan features too, perhaps even polemical ones against other intellectuals, which makes it even more likely that the disapproving comment on deception was in fact directed at Gorgias.75 Ephorus’s use of digressions to make a moral point is more provable from the extant fragments. Like Theopompus, Ephorus seems to have been known in antiquity for his digressions, and Polybius comments that they were one of the strongest features of his work (12.28.10⫽T 23). Not only did Ephorus’s History cover a vast subject, but little of his work survives. As a result, it is difficult to tell when he is digressing at any particular point; nevertheless, there does exist one method. Since Ephorus decided to say little on the mythological period and began his History with the Return of the Heracleidae, whenever Ephorus narrates the exploits of a god or hero from before this period, it follows that he must be digressing. We have already seen many of Ephorus’s digressions into the mythological past, such as his discussions of the foundations of the Delphic oracle and the Aetolian nation, the exploits of Heracles, the voyage of the Argonauts, Odysseus and Nausicaa, and the Amazons did in fact have a moral purpose. 75. The approach to Ephorus via Diodorus that dominated scholarship until relatively recently has led scholars to assume that Diodorus’s prefaces are Ephorus’s rather than Diodorus’s own. R. Laqueur (“Ephoros,” Hermes 46 [1911]: 161– 206) argued for the Ephorean origin of Diodorus’s prefaces, although he partially recanted this view nearly half a century later (“Diodorea,” Hermes 86 [1958]: 289). Kenneth S. Sacks (“The Lesser Prooemia of Diodorus Siculus,” Hermes 110 [1982]: 434– 43) makes a convincing case for Diodorus’s authorship of all the prefaces in the Bibliotheke, although he admits that it is possible that Diodorus was influenced by some of the sources he used.

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In the same passage in which he praises Ephorus for his use of digressions (12.28.10⫽T 23), Polybius also praises him for his use of aphorisms (γνωµολογι αι). Unfortunately, gnomic remarks are not well represented in the extant fragments; in fact, there is only one that could even be classified as such. Aelian (Varia Historia 13.23⫽F 175) says Ephorus uses Lycurgus to illustrate how those who wish one thing obtain another. Lycurgus wished to make the Spartans just and was treated badly by those whom he wished to help; he endured hunger and died in exile. This is the closest thing to a gnomic remark that survives from Ephorus’s History and reveals a certain disillusionment on the subject of the “vanity of human wishes.” Another way in which Ephorus is likely to have expressed his moral views is by the use of speeches. Unfortunately, none of the extant fragments preserves any speeches, and their existence is recorded only by the testimonia. Polybius records Ephorus to have spoken very pleasingly and persuasively about the relationship between history and oratory (12.28.11⫽F 111). F. W. Walbank suggests Polybius’s remark indicates only that Ephorus was concerned with the generic distinction between history and oratory.76 Nevertheless, Ephorus’s frequent use of praise and blame and exempla does indicate that he borrowed some of the techniques for persuasion from the sophists’ use of rhetoric, but, as his implied criticism of Gorgias reveals, he turned them to a moral, rather than an amoral, purpose. Moreover, Plutarch’s criticism of Ephorus (Praecepta rei publicae gerendae 803b⫽T 21), along with Theopompus and Anaximenes, for the rhetorical elements he includes in his descriptions of the marshaling of armies, however, indicates that he did include speeches within his narrative.77 Moreover, if there were no speeches in Ephorus’s History, it is strange that no authority mentions their absence, as is the case with Pompeius Trogus (Justin 38.3.11),78 inasmuch 76. F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius, 3 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1957– 79), 2: 411. 77. Concerning the rhetoric and periods of Ephorus, Theopompus, and Anaximenes, which they execute after arming and marshalling
their armies, it is possible to say: ‘No one





near a weapon talks
this nonsense,’” (ε π ι δ ε των Εφορου κα ι Θεοποµπου κα ι Ανα

) περαι νουσιν ε ξοπλι σαντες τα στρατευµατα

ξιµενους ρητορειω ν κα ι περι οδων, ας κα ι



 ι ς σιδηρου

παρατα ξαντες, εστιν ε ι πε ι ν* ουδε ταυτα µωραι νει πελας.’). Note that the  references cited by LSJ for ρητορε ι α all indicate oratory. 78. And perhaps (by implication) in the case of Cratippus, for he is said to have criticized the use of speeches in a history (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, De Thucydide 16). For defense of the view that Cratippus is a fourth-century historian, see W. Kendrick Pritchett, Dionysius of Halicarnassus: On Thucydides (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California

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as the inclusion of speeches became a commonplace of the historiographical tradition after Thucydides.79 Plutarch’s specific mention of the marshaling of armies also implies that his criticism of Ephorus, Theopompus, and Anaximenes was for the commanders’ harangues, inserted into their narrative. The absence of speeches in the extant fragments may indicate no more than that they contained only very trite moral sentiments, not considered worthy of preservation by later authorities. Ephorus’s primary purpose in writing his History seems to have been the moral instruction of his readers, to show how the collective moral behavior of a society leads to its remaining strong and free, which he achieved through the use of praise and blame, negative exempla, prefaces, digressions, aphorisms, and speeches. Occasionally, however, Ephorus’s preoccupation with moral instruction causes him to break his own very sensible rule not to write on the mythological period or subjects for which it was impossible to obtain accurate information. Diodorus, perhaps following the example of Ephorus, decided to include myths in his historical work because of their morally edifying content, although he knew the mythological period did not permit the same level of accuracy (4.1.1– 4).80 By breaking this rule, Ephorus passes off the fantastic tales of the poets as accurate accounts of the past. This practice may bring the moral point closer to home, but at the same time it is insidious, for it disguises the mythical roots of a legend or tradition by presenting it as an objectively verifiable account of the past. Also, Ephorus was willing to choose a less accurate but morally edifying version of an event when more accurate but non-edifying ones were available to him. Finally, Ephorus’s view of history as a succession of hegemonies, each falling as the result of moral failure to be replaced by another, is somewhat over-schematic. Despite its flaws as an accurate historical document, however, Ephorus’s History was extremely influential, and his use of the past as an explicitly moralizing tool was widely emulated by his successors. Ephorus was also very much a product of his time. On the one hand, he was quite willing to borrow some of the techniques for persuasion, particularly the use of praise and blame, from the rhetoric of the sophists. On the other hand, his insistence on the importance of autopsy, his statements on Press, 1975), 67; and Phillip Harding, “The Authorship of the Hellenika Oxyrhynchia,” AHB 1 (1987): 101– 4. 79. See Fornara, The Nature of History, 143. 80. Catherine Rubincam, “The Organization and Composition of Diodoros’ Bibliotheke,” EMC/CV n.s., 6 (1987): 313– 28, esp. 315– 16.

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the unreliability of the mythological tradition, his pragmatic view of virtue, his placement of civic virtue above individual virtue, his use (and occasional manipulation) of paradeigmata for moral improvement, and his fondness for the topos of the civilizing mission of culture bringers (although this last, of course, existed in earlier Greek literature and was popularized by the sophists) are very similar to sentiments expressed by Isocrates. Taken in isolation, each of these items might not signify more than shared intellectual views, but in their totality these similarities point to a direct relationship between Ephorus and Isocrates. Whatever else Ephorus may have derived from Isocrates, however, he certainly did not subscribe to the Athenian’s political views. Whereas Isocrates was content to appear to remain politically in the mainstream of the Athenian democracy, Ephorus seems closer to the pro-Spartan sentiments of many Athenian dissidents, including Xenophon and others in Socrates’ circle. In any case, not enough survives from his History to be able to tell with any certainty what he thought of Athens, although his criticism of Pericles, his apparent failure to include the fifth-century Athenian empire in his sequence of hegemonies, and his disapproval of Pheidon suggest he drew a link between imperialism and corruption. In spite of the intellectual influences of the sophists and Isocrates, however, Ephorus’s History was widely regarded as a highly original work and exerted an enormous influence in both form (universal content) and content (moralizing history) on subsequent historiography.

chapter five

Theopompus’s Philippica


T

heopompus of Chios (FGrHist 115) was widely renowned in antiquity for the severity with which he condemned the moral faults of the characters peopling his Philippica. Few indeed escaped the scathing vigor of his pen. Despite his family’s exile from Chios, Theopompus seems to have had the necessary funds to carry out thorough research (TT 20 and 28, FF 25, 26 and 181) and did not have to work for a living, but was able to devote himself wholly to his writing.1 Because he was in no need of either patronage or an income, he had the freedom to write whatever he pleased without risk of losing his livelihood by causing offense. It is perhaps for this reason that he was known in antiquity as “a lover of the truth”  (φιλαληθης) (T 28). We must now determine whether or not this epithet was justified in Theopompus’s use of the past in the Philippica. In addition to his numerous epideictic speeches, Theopompus wrote three known historical works: an epitome of Herodotus, a Hellenica, and a Philippica.2 It is likely the epitome of Herodotus was Theopompus’s earliest

1. A recent discussion of the (very vague and contradictory) evidence for Theopompus’s life can be found in Michael Attyah Flower, Theopompus of Chios: History and Rhetoric in the Fourth Century BC (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), 11– 25.
  2. Suda, s.v. Θεοποµπος Χι ος ρ ητωρ (⫽ T 1).

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historical work,3 but all that remains of it is an entry in the Suda stating it contained two books (T 1) and four attributed fragments from ancient lexica giving it as the authority for the use of specific words (FF 1– 4), although the possibility exists that some other, unattributed fragments may belong to it also. The Hellenica is the earlier of Theopompus’s two major historical works and on a smaller scale than the massive Philippica. Diodorus (13.42.5 and 14.84.7 ⫽ TT 13 and 14) informs us that Theopompus’s Hellenica contained twelve books, beginning with the Battle of Cynossema in 411, where Thucydides left off, and continuing until the Battle of Cnidus in 394. Speusippus’s Letter to Philip, which mentions the Hellenica as already published (T 7), shows that it (or at least part of it) was completed no later than 343/2.4 Because only nineteen of the fragments in Jacoby’s collection (FF 5– 23) can definitely be attributed to the Hellenica, however, it is difficult to ascertain the contents or the tone of the work. For this reason, I shall concentrate upon the historical work for which Theopompus was best known, his Philippica, because it is the most fully surviving representative of his approach to the past. Indeed, the bulk of the extant fragments of Theopompus is taken from his magnum opus, the title of which is given as Philippica (Φιλιππικα ) by most of our sources in antiquity, with the exception of various periphrases.5 It was an enormous work in fifty-eight books, beginning with Philip’s accession to the throne in 360/59, according to Diodorus (16.3.8 ⫽ T 17), and ending (presumably) with that king’s death in 336. Despite its title, Theopompus’s Philippica clearly ranged far more widely than the life and works of Philip II. Over a century later, Philip V of Macedon excerpted from it for his own use all the material on Philip II, the total coming to only sixteen books out of fifty-eight (T 31). Today, Jacoby’s compilation contains 3. See I. A. F. Bruce, “Theopompus and Classical Greek Historiography,” History and Theory 9 (1970): 86– 109, at 88– 92; pace Arnaldo Momigliano, “Studi sulla storiografia greca del IV secolo a.C. I: Teopompo,” RFIC 59 (1931): 230– 42 and 335– 54; reprinted in Terzo contributo alla storia degli studi classici, vol. 1 (Rome: Edizione di storia e letteratura, 1966), 367– 92, at 377– 80. Recently, M. R. Christ (“Theopompus and Herodotus: A Reassessment,” CQ n.s., 43 [1993]: 47– 52) has argued that the epitome was not an independent work, but formed part of the Philippica. 4. Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 20 and 28– 29.  5. E.g., Περ ι Φι λιππον ι στορι αι (Diodorus 16.3.8 ⫽ T 17); η Φιλι ππου συνταξις   (Polybius 8.10.7 ⫽ T 19, 8.11.1 ⫽ F 27); Περ ι Φι λιππον (Photius, s.v.
Ζωπυρου ταλ Φιλι ππου αντα ⫽ F 66; Didymus, Demosthenes 8.58 and 9.43 ⫽ FF 166 and 222); Τω ν περ ι
(Porphyry ⫽ F 102); Φιλιππικων Ιστορι αι (Diodorus 16.71.3 ⫽ F 184); and Ιστορι αι (Athenaeus FF 117, 121, 124, 126a, 162, 163, 171, 176, 179, 181a, 188, 204, 209, 216, 224, 233, 237a, and 240).

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223 fragments that were attributed by ancient authorities to specific books of Philippica (FF 24– 246), representing forty-eight of the original fiftyeight books,6 and most of the approximately 150 unattributed fragments can with some degree of certainty be assigned to the Philippica. Before turning to an examination of Theopompus’s Philippica, it is necessary to determine (insofar as it is possible) whether the later writers who cite Theopompus are reliable and representative in their citations of him. Then, with these limitations in mind, we shall determine the moral virtues with which Theopompus was chiefly concerned in his Philippica, his methods of instructing the reader in them, what political program, if any, he advocated, and what he thought of Philip II himself. We shall then conclude with an examination of the extent to which Theopompus’s desire to provide moral instruction led him to misrepresent the past. Of the more substantial fragments, the largest percentage come from the Deipnosophistae of Athenaeus. Where Athenaeus’s citations of surviving historians can be checked against the original, P. A. Brunt has found them on the whole to be more or less verbatim, with a few substantially accurate paraphrases.7 As Jacoby makes clear, F 225b (⫽ Athenaeus 6.260d– 261a) is very important for an assessment of Athenaeus’s accuracy of citation, because F 225a (⫽ Polybius 8.9.5– 13) is clearly derived from the same section of Theopompus but contains minor stylistic changes.8 Despite Polybius’s greater insistence that he is providing Theopompus’s own words,9 the two citations begin with a near verbatim correspondence, which continues for six sentences. At this point, Polybius and Athenaeus diverge completely, although both preserve a Theopompan tone of moral indignation. R. D. Milns suggests a small alteration in the punctuation of the Polybius text is an easy solution to the problem.10 If this change is made, both authors preserve what appear, from their similarity, to be very close paraphrases of Theopompus, but Polybius has omitted a section of 6. For these figures, see Gordon S. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1991), 58. 7. P. A. Brunt, “On Historical Fragments and Epitomes,” CQ n.s., 30 (1980): 477– 94. Less optimistic on the reliability of Athenaeus in citing lost works are R. W. Sharples and D. W. Minter, “Theophrastus on Fungi: Inaccurate Citations in Athenaeus,” JHS 103 (1983): 154– 56; and Adrian Tronson, “Satyrus and Philip II,” JHS 104 (1984): 124– 25. 8. FGrHist IIC, 387. 9. Polybius 8.11.5 (⫽
I have
F 225a): “. . . for
set down this passage with the very   λεξεσιν   words that he used” (αυται ς γαρ α ι ς ε κει νος κεχρηται κατατεταχαµεν). Athenaeus 6.260d (⫽ F 225b): “writing thus” (γραφων ουτως). 10. R. D. Milns, “Theopompus, Fragment 225A and B Jacoby,” PP 23 (1968): 361– 64.

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the text and proceeded straight to the general summing-up portion. This appears a convincing solution to the dilemma of choosing between the citations provided by Polybius and Athenaeus. Even when Polybius and Athenaeus are working from the same original, FF 225a and b reveal that both introduced minor stylistic variations into their citations. It seems, therefore, the substance of what Athenaeus cites is likely to be genuinely Theopompan, but because he based his choice of material on its appropriateness for a learned dinner party, the overall tone of the Philippica was probably not as sensual, luxurious, or licentious as Athenaeus’s citations might imply. Another writer highly represented in the longer fragments is Plutarch, who evidently used Theopompus as a source for some of his Lives. As I have indicated in my discussion of Ephorus, Plutarch appears usually to have retained the general meaning of his source, but given his methods of work, he is unlikely to have preserved the actual wording of the original. Where Plutarch can be checked against another citation of Theopompus, he appears to have reproduced accurately the point of the original, although he rewrites the passage in his own words. A case in point in Plutarch’s Apothegmata Laconica (Moralia 210d), because it can be checked against Athenaeus’s direct quotation of Theopompus (14.657b– c ⫽ F 22) for the same incident. Here, while making a free paraphrase of the original, Plutarch has not altered any of the essential details.11 Although this specific incident is from the Hellenica, there is no reason to think Plutarch would be any less accurate in his quotations from the Philippica. Whereas Athenaeus appears to have cited long passages of Theopompus, retaining the substance of the original, and Plutarch to have put sections of Theopompus in his own words, Photius, the ninth-century Byzantine scholar and patriarch of Constantinople, epitomized over 270 prose works of all sorts for the benefit of his absent brother in a compilation known as the Bibliotheca.12 In this work, for example, Photius gives an invaluable summary of the contents of the twelfth book of Theopompus’s Philippica (F 103), in order to correct the mistaken assumption that it had been lost (T 18). In general (and F 103 is true to character), Photius is fond of the exotic and the sensational, but recommends works that are 11. Michael A. Flower, “Agesilaus of Sparta and the Origins of the Ruler Cult,” CQ n.s., 38 (1988): 123– 34. 12. This is not, it should be noted, Photius’s own title; see Warren T. Treadgold, The Nature of the Bibliotheca of Photius (Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1980), 4– 5 (who is also instructive on the intended purpose of the Bibliotheca).

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morally edifying as well as entertaining.13 Studies of the method of composition of the Bibliotheca have concluded that Photius’s claim in the letter of dedication to his brother that he was relying on memory is likely, at least for the shorter epitomes, to be true.14 Therefore, Photius has probably not provided us with Theopompus’s own words, although the actual information contained in his summary, if its accuracy is on a par with his other summaries, can be accepted as correct.15 Nevertheless, however accurate it may be, a summary can give only a brief description of the contents of a work and sheds very little light on the length or character of the original. To sum up, it seems Athenaeus, Plutarch, and Photius can be trusted to reproduce accurately the contents of Theopompus’s Philippica, but not necessarily the original wording (in the cases of Plutarch and Photius, the difficulties associated with frequent working from memory prevent verbatim quotation much of the time). Furthermore, the extant fragments, although numerous, may have been skewed in some cases to fit the particular interests of Athenaeus, Plutarch, or Photius. It is necessary, therefore, to study the testimonia along with the fragments in order to examine the tone of Theopompus’s Philippica. The outstanding characteristic by unanimous consent is his severity in judgment. Pausanias (6.18.5 ⫽ FGrHist 72 T 6) tells us that when Anaximenes, the fourth-century author of a Hellenica, a Philippica, and a work on Alexander, wrote, as a result of a personal feud with Theopompus, a malicious pamphlet against the Athenians, Spartans, and Thebans (the Tricaranus) in Theopompus’s name, everyone believed it was by him and resented him accordingly. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Epistula ad Pompeium 6.7 ⫽ T 20) remarks that Theopompus’s most unique accomplishment was the abil

ity not only to see what was obvious to most (τα φανερα τοι ς πολλοι ς) but
 αφανει  to examine even the hidden causes (τας ς α ι τ ι ας) of actions and

those who do them and the feelings of their souls (τα παθη της ψυχης), and to reveal all the mysteries of apparent virtue and undetected vice. He then goes on to compare the searching criticism contained in the writing of 13. See Treadgold, The Nature of the Bibliotheca of Photius, 100– 102. 14. Nigel G. Wilson, “The Composition of Photius’ Bibliotheca,” GRBS 9 (1968): 451– 55; Tomas H¨agg, “Photius at Work: Evidence from the Text of the Bibliotheca,” GRBS 14 (1973): 213– 22; and Treadgold, The Nature of the Bibliotheca of Photius, esp. 14– 15 and 81– 96. 15. See the study of the summary of Philostratus’s Vita Apolonii made by H¨agg (“Photius at Work,” 218– 20), that of Ctesias’s Persica by J. M. Bigwood (“Ctesias’ Account of the Revolt of Inarus,” Phoenix 30 [1976]: 1– 25), and that of Ctesias’s Indica by J. M. Bigwood (“Ctesias’ Indica and Photius,” Phoenix 43 [1989]: 302– 16).

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Theopompus to the legendary judgment of the souls of the dead in Hades and adds, in reply to those who criticized Theopompus for his excessive severity, that he was acting like doctors who cut away the rotten parts of the body but do not touch the healthy parts. Lucian (Quomodo historia conscribenda sit 59 ⫽ T 25a) says Theopompus condemns most people; Nepos (Alcibiades 11 ⫽ F 288) adds simply that Theopompus is “most abusive” (maledicentissimus). From these testimonia, it is not difficult to see how the remark attributed to Isocrates arose that Ephorus needed the spur but Theopompus the rein (FGrHist 70 T 28). Plutarch (Lysander 30.2 ⫽ F 333) states that Theopompus is more to be trusted when he praises than when he blames, for he prefers blaming to praising. This comment is borne out by the fragments, where the proportion of blaming to praising is exceedingly high. We see, therefore, that the testimonia and the fragments, despite the individual interests of the authorities who cite them, contain no discrepancy as to the overall nature of Theopompus’s Philippica, that the work contained much condemnation on moral grounds. As might be expected from the testimonia, instances of moral praise are much less fully represented than those of blame. In view of the fact that so much less of the Hellenica is extant, it is ironic the passage containing the most explicit praise of a historical figure comes from it, rather than from the Philippica. It is a citation preserved by Athenaeus on Lysander (12.543b– c ⫽ F 20) that well illustrates the moral qualities of which Theopompus approved: He was industrious and able to court both individuals and kings, being moderate and able to master all the pleasures. At any rate, although he gained control of nearly all of Greece, he cannot be shown in any of the cities to have been driven to sexual pleasure or to have engaged in drunkenness or inopportune drinking.16 In a passage appearing to be a continuation of this one,17 Plutarch (Lysander 30.2 ⫽ F 333) remarks that the poverty of Lysander at his death   apparent, since he did not seek to enrich his made his excellence (αρετ η) household out of the wealth which came to him (Plutarch’s comment that

  τε η ν κα ι θεραπευειν    16. φιλ δυναµενος κα
ι ι δι
ωτας κα ι βασιλε ι ς, σωφρων
οπονος
$ κα ι των ηδονω  δος σχεδον    σων κρει ττων. γενοµενος     σης ων ν απα γου ν τη ς Ελλα απα

  τας    ' προς  αφροδισ    ορµησας  κυριος ε ν ουδεµια & φανησεται των πολεων ουτε ι ους ηδον ας   ε µεθαις   ι ροις χρησα µενος. ουτ κα ι ποτοις ακα 17. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 45– 46 and 142.

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Theopompus is more to be trusted when praising than blaming follows). The qualities Theopompus approves in Lysander are industry, ability to form friendships and alliances, moderation, self-control over all pleasures (especially sexual license and intoxication), and honesty in handling the (huge) sums of money over which he had control. In the Philippica, Theopompus praises Agesilaus on similar grounds for his ability to abstain from gastronomic pleasures (Plutarch, Agesilaus 36.6 ⫽ F 107; cf. 10.9– 10 ⫽ F 321).18 Other virtues lauded by Theopompus include refusal to yield to flattery,19 and piety.20 Despite the dearth of explicit praise in the Philippica, we can learn a great deal about the moral virtues with which Theopompus was chiefly concerned by examining the moral vices he condemns. A good point of departure is Polybius’s summary of Theopompus’s treatment of Philip throughout the Philippica (Polybius 8.11.2– 4 ⫽ F 27): . . . he shows him to be most intemperate towards women, so as even to have caused the undoing of his own household, as far as his own affairs were concerned, through his impulsive attention to this subject, and also most unjust and most injurious in his manipulations of friends and allies, and as having enslaved and taken by treachery very many cities through trickery and force, and finally as so passionate in the drinking of unmixed wine, that even in the day he often appeared in front of his friends manifestly drunk.21 All of these reprehensible qualities are mentioned in plenty of fragments, in reference not only to Philip himself but also to many others. Incontinence in sexual pleasures with women meets with Theopompus’s evident disapproval,22 but he applies even stronger censure to those who 18. The Plutarch fragment lists Theophrastus as its source, but its obvious connection with Theopompus FF 106 and 108 and its similarity to F 22 (from the Hellenica) make the emendation to “Theopompus” virtually certain (Jacoby accepts the emendation). 19. Arcadion the Achaean (F 280).   (F 75c), Clearchus the 20. The inhabitants of the mythical town of Pietyville (Ευσεβ ης) Arcadian (F 344), Alexander of Pherae (F 352), and, perhaps, Pelops
(F 350).  αποδε  γυναι κας, ωστε κα ι τον  'ιδιον    αυτ  ον  εστατον µ εν ι κνυσι
προς
21. . . . ακρατ  ον  δια τ ην  τουτο το µερος   προς   κα ι προστασι αν, ο ι κον ε σφαλκεναι το καθ αυτ ορµ ην
    των φι λων κα ι συµµαχων κατασκαδικ ωτατον δ ε κα ι κακοπραγµονεστατον περ ι τας          ευας, πλει στας
δ ε πολεις ε ξηνδραποδισµενον κα ι πεπραξικοπηκοτα µετα δολου κα ι  κα ι προς  πας  κις  ακρατοποσ   ας, ωστε κα ι µεθ ηµ  εραν  βι ας, ε κπαθη δ ε γεγον οτα ι πλεονα

  µεθυοντα καταφανη γενεσθαι τοι ς φι λοις. 22. E.g., Evagoras and Pnytagoras (F 103), Straton of Sidon (F 114), and Chares and the Athenians (F 213).

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indulge their lusts also with boys or even men.23 He denounces others for wickedness in forming friendships in language similar to that which he uses for Philip.24 Likewise, Philip is not the only one Theopompus criticizes for enslaving and capturing cities by force or by fraud (e.g., FF 30, 292, and 396).25 Censure for addiction to drinking is a common Theopompan refrain,26 and stands in strong contrast to the often indulgent attitude toward drink-loving in comedy.27 The list of moral qualities Theopompus disapproves, however, cannot be confined to the list provided by F 27. In the Philippica, Theopompus denounces various people for flattery,28 love of luxury,29 love of money,30 spendthriftiness,31 gambling,32 gluttony,33 and ambition.34 Sacrilege also 23. E.g., Hegesilochus of Rhodes (F 121), Charidemus of Oreus (F 143), Nysaeus of Syracuse (F 187), and Philip and his men (FF 225a, 225b, and 225c). 24. The Byzantines (F 62), Dionysius of Syracuse (F 134), and Apollocrates of Syracuse (F 185). For Philip, see, e.g., FF 81, F 110, 162, 224, 225a, 225b, and 236. 25. Zopyrus (F 66), Cillicon (F 111), Hermeas of Atarneus (F 291), and the inhabitants of the mythical Wartown (Μαχιµος) (F 75c). 26. The Illyrians (F 39), the Ardiaeans (F 40), the Thessalians (F 49), the Byzantines and Calchedonians (F 62), Agathocles of Thessaly (F 81), Hegesilochus of Rhodes (F 121), the people of Chalcidice (F 139), Charidemus of Oreus (F 143), Apollocrates of Syracuse (FF 185 and 188), Hipparinus of Syracuse (F 186), Nysaeus of Syracuse (FF 187 and 188), Timolaus of Thebes (F 210), the Athenians of a certain age (F 213), the people of Methymna (F 227), the people of Tarentum (F 233), and Dionysius the Younger of Syracuse (FF 283a and 283b), as well as the ubiquitous Philip (e.g., FF 162, 163, 236, and 282). 27. See the discussion of James N. Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of Classical Athens (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997), esp. 147– 59. 28. In addition to the notorious companions of Philip (FF 224, 225a, and 225b), Theopompus censures Zopyrus (F 66), Nicostratus of Argos (F 121), the Melieis who dwelt in the town of Flattery (Κολακει α) (F 170), and Thrasydaeus of Thessaly (F 209). 29. Cotys (F 31), the people of his day who have at least moderate means (F 36), the people of Datus (F 43), the Chalcedonians (F 62), Straton of Sidon and Nicocles of Cyprus (F 114), the Colophonians (F 117), Thys of Paphlagonia (F 179), Nysaeus of Syracuse (F 187), Chares and the Athenians (F 213), the Tarentines (F 233), and the Persian king (F 263). 30. E.g., the mythical inhabitants of Wartown (Μαχιµος) (F 75c), Hermeas of Atarneus (F 291), Mausolus (F 299), and human beings in general (F 380). 31. E.g., the Pharsalians (F 49), the Chalcedonians (F 62), Eubulus (F 100), Chabrias (F 105), the Persian king (F 113), Straton of Sidon and Nicocles of Cyprus (F 114), Chares and the Athenians (F 213), Philip and his companions (FF 224, 225a, and 225b), and the people of Methymna (F 227). 32. E.g., the Thessalians (F 49), Hegesilochus of Rhodes (F 121), the Athenians (F 213), Philip’s companions (FF 225a and 225b), and the people of Scirus (F 228). 33. His contemporaries who have at least moderate means (F 36), the Ardiaeans (F 40), the Thessalians (F 49), the Persian king (F 113), Thys of Paphlagonia (F 179), Nysaeus of Syracuse (FF 187 and 188), Timolaus of Thebes (F 210), and the people of Methymna (F 227). 34. E.g., Zopyrus (F 66), Straton and Nicocles (F 114), and perhaps Agesilaus (F 323).

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meets with due criticism,35 as one would expect from the author of a treatise entitled On the Funds Plundered from Delphi (FF 247– 49). From the vices Theopompus explicitly condemns in the Philippica, we can infer that he considered their opposites to be moral virtues. Thus, justice, piety, trustworthiness and loyalty toward one’s friends and allies, moderation, and self-control are important moral virtues for Theopompus. Moreover, despite the dearth of positive moral statements extant from the Philippica, Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Epistula ad Pompeium 6.6 ⫽ T 20a) makes it clear that some did exist (perhaps Theopompus’s general reputation for severity led later authorities to quote his criticisms, rather than his praise), for he says that Theopompus reflected at length on justice, piety, and the other virtues.36 Such a statement suggests Theopompus’s conception of moral virtue is typical of the fourth-century intellectual elite. In fact, his moral viewpoint shares some similarities with that of his contemporary, Ephorus, in that a simple (and hardworking) lifestyle, free from the desire for excess wealth and luxury, brings both success and security, although Theopompus seems more concerned with the moral behavior of individuals and Ephorus with that of societies. Theopompus has various methods of instructing the reader in the moral virtues he considers important. Unlike both Xenophon and Ephorus, Theopompus used blame far more frequently than praise and, as we have seen, was best known in antiquity for his often violent condemnation of moral vice. Usually, his denunciation is direct and explicit, as we have seen. Sometimes, probably for effect, Theopompus adds verbal excesses, such as superlatives (FF 49, 114, 124, and 210), or bestial imagery (F 225a).37 In the extended denunciation of Philip and his companions from book forty-nine (F 225), Polybius and Athenaeus quote Theopompus as asking the rhetorical question: “What shameful or terrible conduct was not present among them, or what noble and excellent conduct was not ab






 των α ι σχρων η$ δεινων αυτοι  sent?” (τι γαρ ς ου προσην, η$ τι των καλων 35. E.g., Cotys (F 31), Philip and his companions (F 225b), Hermeas of Atarneus (F 291), and Archidamus (F 312). 36. “And moreover in addition to these things also [are worthy of imitation] all the philosophical remarks he makes throughout the whole of his history, because he narrates in  τουτοις  full many
fine words on justice, piety, and the other virtues” (κα ι ε'τι προς οσα
 ⬍συγγραφ ην  περ ι ⬎ δικαιοσυνης   ευσεβε   ας κα ι των αλλων ' φιλοσοφει παρ  ολην τ ην κα ι ι
    κα ι καλους  διεξερχοµενος αρετω ν πολλους λογους). 37. As Davidson (Courtesans and Fishcakes, 301– 8) notes, it is the mark of a civilized society to contain animal passions; of course, Theopompus’s point is precisely that Philip and his companions are savage and barbarous.

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 απη  ν;). It has been noted that this sentence echoes κα ι σπουδαι ων ουκ the beginning of the longest fragment of Gorgias’ Epitaphios: “For what quality was absent from these men of those which ought to be present among men? And what was indeed present of those which ought not to be




  σι παρει ναι;        present?” (τι γαρ απη
ν τοι ς ανδρασι τουτοις ων δει ανδρα

τι δ ε κα ι προσην ω ν ου δε ι παρει ναι;).38 Presumably Theopompus thought that by his use of sometimes excessive and sensationalist language, including the occasional Gorgianic trick, he would apply greater force to his denunciations and thus enshrine them for the good of posterity. A second way in which Theopompus expresses censure is less direct, through the use of negative exempla. If he is able to show in a concrete fashion how the quality of his disapproval causes the downfall of its perpetrators, his moral point is vividly driven home to the reader, with no need for direct denunciation. A good example of this method of censure is the fate of the Ardiaeans (Athenaeus 10.443b– c ⫽ F 40),39 who get drunk every day, have parties, and are uncontrolled in their eating and drinking. Their enemies, the Celts, aware of their lack of self-control, prepare a sumptuous meal for them, putting in the food an herb that had the effect of purging the bowels. As a result, some of the Ardiaeans are killed by the Celts, while others throw themselves into a river, unable to control their stomachs. Thus, as a direct result of their lack of self-control, the Ardiaeans are destroyed by their enemies in a very shameful way. The moral lesson meant for the reader is obvious. This fragment, set early in the Philippica (book 2), may even be programmatical, to introduce the moral vocabulary of self-control.40 Sometimes, Theopompus does not pass an explicit judgment, nor does a clearly bad person incur immediate destruction as the result of a moral vice. The lack of explicit judgment may be due to the deficiency of the extant fragments or, in some cases, Theopompus may leave it up to the reader to come to the conclusion that the wicked are indeed wicked and are about to be destroyed. For example, he describes the drinking habits of the Illyrians in the second book of the Philippica (Athenaeus 10.443a– b ⫽ F 39). He does not use the language of high denunciation, nor does anything evil strike down the Illyrians at the end of the passage. From its position at the 38. F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1967), 82 (citing E. Norden). 39. Ardiaeans is the standard emendation (and is printed as such in Jacoby) for the “Ariaeans” of the manuscript. Shrimpton (Theopompus the Historian, 289 nn. 11– 12), however, leans toward Amocsy’s ´ proposal of “Auriatae.” 40. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 109 and 136.

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beginning of the Phiippica, however, we know the context for this fragment is the subjugation of the Illyrians by Philip upon his accession to the throne.41 Thus, the reader is free to infer that Philip was able to conquer the Illyrians as a result of their lack of control over their drinking habits. Theopompus, however, as far as the extant fragments indicate, did not draw the connection explicitly, and it seems likely that Athenaeus would have been only too happy to include remarks of this sort had they existed in the original context. Occasionally, Theopompus offers a combination of two of these methods of censure, as in the case of Dionysius the Younger, whom Theopompus, according to Athenaeus (10.435d ⫽ F 283), characterizes as a lover of drink and a sot, ruining his eyesight through drink. In addition to censure, both direct and through negative exempla, Theopompus uses various literary devices to instruct the reader in his moral values. It is possible that, like Ephorus, he used the preface to his work to give some indication of the moral purpose of his history. There is no evidence for a separate preface for each book, but F 27 indicates that in the preface to the Philippica as a whole, Theopompus did elaborate upon the moral reasons for which he condemned Philip, the subject of his work. Possibly the preface was also one of the places in which Theopompus reflected on justice, piety, and the other virtues, as Dionysius of Halicarnassus tells us (T 20a). The literary device for which Theopompus was best known in antiquity was his use of digressions (TT 20, 29– 31, and F 28). Theon of Alexandria complains (Progymnasmata 4 ⫽ T 30) of the excessive length of the digressions in the Philippica, claiming that two or three or more whole histories can be found in the form of digressions, in which there is not only not the name of Philip, but not even that of any Macedonian. Similar to this claim is that of Photius (T 31), as noted above. When Philip V of Macedon subtracted the digressions from the Philippica, leaving behind only the affairs of Philip II, he was left with a mere sixteen books out of the original fifty-eight. I shall demonstrate, however, that Theopompus did in fact intend his digressions to be an integral part of the moral instruction offered in the Philippica.42 41. For a detailed account of Philip’s success over the Illyrians upon his accession to the throne, see Griffith (N. G. L. Hammond, G. T. Griffith, and F. W. Walbank, A History of Macedonia, vol. 2 [Oxford: Clarendon, 1979], 210– 15). 42. Pace Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 153– 65, who argues that Theopompus’s digressions are only very loosely connected to the main narrative and contribute little to the thematic unity of the work.

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At least two of these digressions in the Philippica appear to have been circulated separately under their own titles in antiquity. The first, the Thaumasia, found in book 8 (FF 64– 76), was a collection of “marvels,” which included an account of Zoroastrianism (FF 64 and 65); the gruesome story of the Persian Zopyrus’s self-mutilation, which led to the capture of Babylon (F 66); 43 the exploits of Epimenides the Cretan, “the Greek Rip Van Winkle” (FF 67– 69);44 the prophetic powers of Pherecydes of Syros (FF 70– 71); some derogatory remarks about Pythagoras and Pythagoreanism (FF 72– 73); and a miraculous incident at the Olympic Games (F 76). It is worth noting that Pythagoras and Epimenides (along with Orpheus) are identified by Deborah Tarn Steiner as quietests who reject the institutions of the polis and “show marked aristocratic leanings in their search for a suitable audience for their instruction.”45 The most famous (and therefore most quoted) section of this digression is the encounter between Midas and Silenus (FF 74– 75). In the course of their conversation, Silenus describes to Midas a continent that lies beyond the boundaries of our kosmos, of which Aelian (Varia Historia 3.18 ⫽ F 75c) preserves for us the details. This mythical continent contains two cities of very different character, Wartown (Μα χιµος) and Piety  ville (Ευσεβ ης). Theopompus describes the inhabitants of the latter town as living their lives peacefully gathering fruits from the earth without plow or oxen, for they do not need to plow or sow. They are so indisputably just that not even the gods disdain to wander among them. The inhabitants of Wartown, on the other hand, are very warlike, and unlike the citizens of Pietyville, who die laughing, they die sometimes from illness but more often in war, from the blows of either stones or clubs. Certain people called Meropes also live there, and at the remote edge of their land is a place called No Return ('Ανοστος), where there are two rivers, one of pleasure and the other of sorrow. If people eat fruit from the trees by the river of sorrow, they waste away their life in lamentation, while if they eat from the trees by the river of pleasure, they gradually grow younger until they eventually cease to exist. This anecdote has certain similarities with the Cleobis and Biton story in Herodotus (1.31) and with Aristotle’s lost Eudemus (F 44 Rose), in which Silenus tells Midas that it is best for humans not to be born, or failing that, to die as 43. Cf. Herodotus 3.153– 60. 44. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 17. 45. Deborah Tarn Steiner, The Tyrant’s Writ: Myths and Images of Writing in Ancient Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 193– 204 (quotation from 201).

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quickly as possible.46 It is likely Theopompus derived the No Return part of the tale from the traditional rendering of the Silenus and Midas story but added in the contrast between the two cities for moral and didactic purposes.47 By means of his utopic portrayal of Pietyville, Theopompus gives a concrete example of the kind of happy and peaceful lifestyle that would be possible if people were to live justly and piously. Judging from this longest extant fragment, the digression as a whole seems to have had some sort of moralizing intent. The various material contained in it may have loosely been linked together by the general theme of piety, particularly with respect to portents and prophecies, and so the digression may have been joined to the bulk of the Philippica by means of the Delphic oracle.48 The pretext for an excursus on Delphi and other oracular material is likely to have been Philip’s entry into the so-called Third Sacred War, because a fragment from another context in book 8 (F 63) discusses the composition of the Amphictyonic League. Theopompus was interested in the events of this conflict, not only because it provided an avenue for Philip to enter into the affairs of southern Greece, but also because of its moral implications. In a work entitled On the Funds Plundered from Delphi (FF 247– 49), which may, like the Thaumasia, be another digression from the Philippica sold under a separate title, Theopompus details the fitting retributions meted out to those guilty of receiving the treasures plundered by the Phocians from the sanctuary at Delphi (F 248). Given Philip’s claim to have entered the so-called Sacred War as Apollo’s avenger,49 Theopompus’s starting point for the Thaumasia is likely to have been to show how Philip was using piety as a political tool,50 perhaps by contrast with those who are truly pious. 46. G. J. D. Aalders, “Die Meropes des Theopomp,” Historia 27 (1978): 317– 27. 47. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 144. For a summary of modern scholars’ views on the meaning of this myth, see Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 214– 17, to which can be added Bernhard Kytzler, “Zum utopischen Roman der klassischen Antike,” in Groningen Colloquia on the Novel, ed. H. Hofmann, vol. 1 (Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 1988), 7– 16. 48. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 15– 20. 49. The most obvious example of Philip’s self-proclaimed role of Delphic avenger is Justin’s statement (8.2.3) that he ordered his soldiers to don laurel wreaths before the Battle of the Crocus Field. The nomenclature given to this war by our sources also indicates clearly the extent to which Philip capitalized upon the fact that he had entered the war to dislodge the Phocians from their occupation of Delphi; see my “What Makes a War a Sacred War?” EMC/CV 17 (1998): 35– 55. 50. See Slobodan Duˇsani´c (“On Theopompus’s Philippica VI– VIII,” Aevum 51 [1977]: 27– 36), who reaches the (slightly different) conclusion that Theopompus’s interests in the Thaumasia are primarily political.

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The other digression, which like the Thaumasia, was sold separately in antiquity, comes in the tenth book of the Philippica (FF 85– 100) and was known by the title On the Athenian Demagogues (Athenaeus 4.166d ⫽ F 100). It discusses Athenian political figures from the fifth century to the ' middle of the fourth century. Harpocration (s.v. Ευβουλος ⫽ F 99) provides a clue as to the motivation of this excursus, for he gives Theopompus as a source for the claim that Eubulus’s “misuse” of the Theoric Fund made Athens both less courageous and more slack.51 We may thus speculate that Theopompus traced the roots of Athens’s state of enervation in the middle of the fourth century to the maladministration of financial affairs by the political leaders of the previous century. Eubulus thus represents the culmination of a long succession of demagogues who had progressively weakened Athens through their corruption of the people.52 This explanation fits in well with the context for this digression of ca. 351 (FF 83 and 110), when Athens slowly began to be aware of Philip’s potential menace. Theopompus attributes Athens’s inability to take decisive steps against Philip in his early years to the enervating policies adopted by the politicians of Athens. The tenor of this digression is its most enlightening feature. Theopompus adopts a tone almost uniformly hostile to the politicians whom he discusses, punctuated by glimpses of charity (i.e., the diligence of Callistratus [F 97] and Eubulus [F 99]). Furthermore, it has been noted that Theopompus, in cases where more than one version of events, names, or motives exists, without exception gives the more hostile alternative in his desire to discredit the Athenian politicians.53 In two cases, he cites patronymics differing from those given by other authorities. The first case is found in a scholion to Aristophanes (Vespae 947 ⫽ F 91), which claims Theopompus said Thucydides, the rival of Pericles, was the son of Pantaenus, and not of Melesias, as Androtion (FGrHist 324 F 37) stated. Ostraca found in Athens bearing the name “Thucydides son of Melesias” clearly indicate that this patronymic was the commonly accepted one. 51. Flower (Theopompus of Chios, 93 n. 85) draws attention to the striking similarity between Plato’s criticism of Pericles in the Gorgias (515e) and Theopompus’s criticism of Eubulus on the deleterious effects of the distribution of public funds by Athenian demagogues. 52. See H. T. Wade-Gery, “Two Notes on Theopompus, Philippika, X,” AJP 59 (1938): 129– 34, at 132– 33); A. E. Raubitschek, “Meeresn¨ahe und Volksherrschaft,” WS 71 (1958): 112– 15; and W. Robert Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens (Washington, D.C.: Center for Hellenic Studies, 1968), esp. 67– 69 and 74– 76 (with the review by M. B. Wallace in Phoenix 23 [1969]: 397– 99). 53. Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, esp. 121.

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Therefore, it seems Theopompus was attempting to cast a slur upon Thucydides’ parentage by implying that, contrary to the accepted tradition, Melesias was his father, he was in fact an illegitimate son of Pantaenus.54 Although an alternative patronymic was available to him, Theopompus selected the more hostile alternative. He casts a similar slur upon the legitimacy of the politician Hyperbolus, according to a scholion on Lucian (Timon 30 ⫽ F 95). The scholiast favors Theopompus’s statement that Hyperbolus was the son of a certain Chremes over that of Androtion (F 42) who said he was the son of Antiphanes of the deme Perithoidae, while citing the (mutually contradictory) testimony of Andocides (F 5 Blass) and two comic poets that he was a foreigner. Again, ostraca indicate the commonly accepted patronymic for Hyperbolus was “son of Antiphanes.”55 Just as in the case of Thucydides the son of Melesias, Theopompus casts doubt upon Hyperbolus’s legitimacy by replacing the accepted patronymic, with another. As has been noted, the technique of an attack on the ancestry of a rival or a public figure of whom one disapproves is common in Old Comedy or political oratory.56 Although Theopompus undoubtedly gave Hyperbolus’s father a fictional name, probably taken from comedy,57 ironically it is his version that became the accepted one, rather than the true patronymic preserved by Androtion.58 Not only with names but also with motives is it Theopompus’s habit to give the more questionable. Thus, Cimon’s apparent generosity is viewed as an attempt to curry popular favor (FF 89– 90). According to Athenaeus (12.532f– 533a ⫽ F 135), Theopompus praises the generosity of Peisistratus, and the passage following this one (12.533a– c ⫽ F 89) attributes the same personal generosity to Cimon. At first sight, it seems to contradict Theopompus’s assessment of Cimon as reported by Cyril of Alexandria (F 90) as the first of the Athenian leaders to learn the lesson of bribery. Nevertheless, both H. T. Wade-Gery and W. R. Connor have shown that 54. Because the point of Theopompus’s substitution of patronymic is to cast in doubt Thucydides’ legitimacy, it does not matter whether one accepts the manuscript reading of Pantaenus (as does Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 40) or the emendation of Pantaenetus (Kirchner, as printed in Jacoby). 55. J. K. Davies, Athenian Propertied Families (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), no. 13910. 56. Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 40– 41. 57. As Phillip Harding (Androtion and the Atthis [Oxford: Clarendon, 1994], 153) notes, the name Chremes appears in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae and is common also in New Comedy. 58. See P. Harding, “Rhetoric and Politics in Fourth-Century Athens,” Phoenix 41 (1987): 25– 39, at 29– 31, and Androtion and the Atthis, 153.

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according to Theopompus, Cimon’s alleged generosity of F 89 was not motivated by pure altruism but rather as a form of gaining popularity.59 Moreover, Theopompus is clearly guilty of exaggeration, for Aristotle (Ath. Pol. 27.3), who appears to be using a common source, mentions that Cimon’s lands were open only to his fellow demesmen, rather than the entire population of Athens.60 With similar prejudice, Theopompus presents Cleon’s decision to seek political power as the result of a personal feud with the Knights (scholiast on Aristophanes, Equites 226 ⫽ F 93),61 and Eubulus’s distribution of the Theoric Fund as due to extravagance and intemper' ance (Harpocration, s.v. Ευβουλος ⫽ F 99 and Athenaeus 4.166de ⫽ F 100), key Theopompan vices. Thus, throughout this digression, Theopompus uniformly attributes to the Athenian politicians personal motives for political actions, in order to reveal the demagogic nature of their apparently altruistic acts. The politicians whom Theopompus singles out for discussion also give some indication of the line of argumentation he takes, for he clearly sees a link between imperialism and corruption. The subjects of the extant fragments are Themistocles, Cimon, Thucydides, Cleon, Hyperbolus, Callistratus, and Eubulus. In F 86, Theopompus refers to Themistocles’ rebuilding of the walls of Athens; it is a natural inference that he also discussed Themistocles’ fortification of the Piraeus, which, as Thucydides recognized (1.93.4), laid the foundations of the fifty-century empire. As both WadeGery and Connor have demonstrated, Cimon’s purchasing of political power through his personal fortune led to Pericles’ policy of using state funds to the same end.62 It is likely, as first noted by A. E. Raubitschek, that Theopompus criticized Cimon and Pericles for having turned away from their aristocratic friends to curry favor from the demos.63 Even though Pericles only appears in a glancing reference (F 91) as Thucydides’ rival, it is clear he must have been one of Theopompus’s main targets and Cimon and Thucydides were included as foils.64 As for Cleon, in the extant 59. H. W. Wade-Gery, “Two Notes on Theopompus,” 131– 34; and W. Robert Connor, “Theopompus’ Treatment of Cimon,” GRBS 4 (1963): 107– 14 and Theopompus and FifthCentury Athens, 30– 38. 60. Connor, “Theopompus’ Treatment of Cimon,” 110. 61. See Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 50– 53. 62. Wade-Gery, “Two Notes on Theopompus,” 133– 34; and Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 33. 63. A. E. Raubitschek, “Theopompos on Thucydides the Son of Melesias,” Phoenix 14 (1960): 81– 95 at 86; see also Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 33 and 37. 64. So Wade-Gery, “Two Notes on Theopompus,” 133.

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fragments Theopompus emphasizes his demagogy and his attack upon the cavalry, presumably as part of his populist agenda, and accuses him of corruption in the assessment of tribute (FF 92– 94).65 In addition to the criticism of the leaders of Athens’s fifth-century empire, Theopompus also turns to the fourth-century empire, the Second Athenian Confederacy, and notes how Callistratus ephemistically gave the name “contributions” to the tribute payments, in order not to invite any comparisons with resented fifth-century practices (F 98). Thus, the figures most prominently singled out for attack are not only Athenian politicians with demagogic tendencies, but those who were most associated with the promotion of Athenian empire, both fifth and fourth century.66 Theopompus’s portrayal of another Athenian demagogue that has usually not been recognized as such is that of Demosthenes.67 Five fragments remain from the Philippica that mention Demosthenes by name (FF 325 to 329), all preserved by Plutarch in his Life of Demosthenes. As we have seen, Plutarch can be trusted to have reproduced accurately the substance, but not necessarily the wording, of the original. It is also important to note that in all these passages Plutarch cites Theopompus only to disagree with him; the fact that Plutarch is generally favorable to Demosthenes indicates immediately that Theopompus is not.68 In our first fragment (Demosthenes 4.1 ⫽ F 325), Plutarch cites Theo pompus for the fact that Demosthenes’ father was an aristocrat (καλος  and was surnamed Sword-Maker (µαχαιροποιος)  because he  καγαθ ος) owned a sword-making factory, in which he employed many slaves. Here, Theopompus differs from Aeschines, who tries to cast discredit upon the ancestry of his rival by calling him the illegitimate son of Demosthenes  (2.93). Theopompus does not employ the Sword-Maker (µαχαιροπαιος) 65. Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 48– 59; and Edwin M. Carawan, “The Five Talents Cleon Coughed Up (Schol. Ar. Ach. 6),” CQ n.s., 40 (1990): 137– 47. 66. I thank one of the referees for bringing this important point to my attention. 67. Pace Shrimpton (Theopompus the Historian, 171– 80), who argues that Theopompus approved of Demosthenes’ policy of resistance to Philip and so treated him sympathetically until Chareonea; Flower (Theopompus of Chios, 136– 47), who concludes that Theopompus thought highly of Demosthenes’ oratorical talent but had a low opinion of his political ability; and Brad L. Cook (“Theopompus Not Theophrastus: Correcting an Attribution in Plutarch Demosthenes 14.4,” AJP 121 [2000]: 537– 47), who suggests (537) that “Theopompus’ opinion of the orator remains complex and not simply negative.” Portions of the following section were previously published as “Theopompus’ View of Demosthenes,” in In Altum: Seventy-Five Years of Classical Studies in Newfoundland, ed. Mark Joyal (St. John’s, NF: Memorial University of Newfoundland, 2001), 63– 71; I reproduce them here by kind permission of the editor. 68. Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 137.

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the technique of attributing a false, less respectable ancestry to a political figure. Nevertheless, it is difficult to determine precisely what his refusal in the case of Demosthenes signifies, much less that it is favorable; all we can deduce from this fragment is that Theopompus provides correct information about Demosthenes’ parentage. Another fragment that has sometimes been construed as favorable69 occurs in the context of the Athenian demos’s choice of Demosthenes to deliver the funeral oration after Chaeronea (Demosthenes 21.1– 2 ⫽ F 329). The only part of this passage attributed to Theopompus, however, is the assertion toward the end that the Athenians bore their misfortune basely and ignobly, a statement, it should be noted, Plutarch contradicts.70 Thus, the rest of the passage is almost certainly not derived from Theopompus, and all we learn is that he did not think much of the Athenians,71 a sentiment entirely in keeping with his negative portrayal of Athens and the Athenians elsewhere in the Philippica. A third fragment that is usually considered favorable72 is Plutarch’s citation of Theopompus for Demosthenes’ rhetorical refusal to undertake a certain prosecution, despite the clamoring of the mob for him to do so (Demosthenes 14.4 ⫽ F 327).73 In this passage, we once again find Theopompus’s disdain for the Athenian democracy, hardly a surprise. But what does it tell us about Theopompus’s opinion of Demosthenes?74 All

69. E.g., by Shrimpton (“Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip,” 130), but not mentioned in his Theopompus the Historian. 70. “. . . they did not bear their and ignobly, as Theopompus writes in
misfortune basely
         his dramatic
style . . .” (ου ταπεινως ουδ αγεννως φερων το συµβεβηικος, ως γραφει κα ι  τραγω & δει Θεοποµπος . . . ). 71. As noted also by Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 140– 41. 72. Even Michael Flower, who argues that Theopompus disapproved of Demosthenes, considers this fragment to be “unequivocably favourable” (Theopompus of Chios, 139). 73. “Theopompus also records that when the Athenians were proposing him for a certain prosecution and clamoring for him, when he did not comply, he got up and said: ‘Gentlemen, you will use me as a counsellor, even if you do not wish

to, but not as a false  accuser, even if you wish to.’” ( ι στορε
ι δ ε κα ι Θεοποµπος οτι των Αθηναι ων ε πι τινα
 κατηγορι αν, ε ι θ ως  ουχ  ηκουε, 
αυτ  ον  υπ     ε ι πε ι ν᝽ προβαλλοµ ενων θορυβουντων, αναστ ας

 '  & µεν,  καν $ µ η θελητε,   υµει ς ε µοι , ω ανδρες Αθηναι οι, συµβουλω χρησεσθε, συκοφαντ& η δ  αν $ θελητε.).  ουδ One manuscript tradition assigns this fragment to Theophrastus, but, as Brad Cook (“Theopompus Not Theophrastus,” 537– 47) demonstrates, the attribution of most manuscripts to Theopompus should be accepted. 74. Flower (Theopompus of Chios, 139) reads too much into the fact that Plutarch begins  this passage with the phrase δ ε κα ι Θεοποµπος, which does not have to mean “even Theopompus,” with the implication that the Chian is favourable to Demosthenes here, whereas he is hostile elsewhere. As Brad Cook notes (“Theopompus Not Theophrastus,” 538 n. 4), the meaning can be merely additive.

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that we learn from this citation is that Theopompus brings out Demosthenes’ ability to turn a neat phrase, something no one could deny. A fourth fragment, however, contains a clear condemnation, for Plutarch attributes to Theopompus (again contradicting him) the opinion that Demosthenes was inconstant in character and unable to remain faithful to the same policies or people for very long (Demosthenes 13.1 ⫽ F 326). Because trustworthiness and loyalty toward one’s friends and allies are important virtues for Theopompus,75 clearly he believes Demosthenes does not measure up in this regard.76 The fifth and final fragment (Dem. 18.2– 3 ⫽ F 328) contains two separate citations from Theopompus. In the first, he comments on the power of Demosthenes’ oratory and tells of its effect upon the Thebans. Whether Theopompus considered this effect to have been positive or negative has been a matter of some debate, complicated by the fact that it is difficult to tell how much of this passage is Theopompus and how much is Plutarch, who, as we have seen, holds the opposite opinion of Demosthenes’ character. The portion from Jacoby’s rather larger citation that Plutarch specifically attributes to Theopompus reads as follows. Their own advantage did not escape the reasoning of the Thebans . . . but the power of the orator, as Theopompus says, stirring up their spirit and inflaming their ambition threw a shadow over all other things, so that they cast aside fear, reasoning, and gratitude under his inspiration . . . 77 As Flower correctly points out,78 the passage indicates Theopompus thought that the Thebans had made this alliance with the Athenians contrary to their 75. Theopompus praises Lysander for his ability to cultivate both private citizens and kings (F 20) and criticizes Philip for his mistreatment of friends and allies (F 27). 76. Pace Shrimpton, “Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip,” 131, and Theopompus the Historian, 173– 74.


 ου ν συµρερον    των Θηβαι ων λογισµους  . . . , η δ ε του 77. το µ εν ου διεφευγε τους
  θυµον  αυτω    ν κα ι διακαι ουσα ρ ητορος δυναµις, ως φησι Θε
οποµπος, ε κριπι ζουσα τον    κα ι χα ριν  φιλοτιµι αν ε πεσκοτησε '  φοβον τ ην τοι ς αλλοις απασιν, ωστε κα ι κα ι λογισµον

 υς  ε νθουσιωντας . . . ε κβαλει ν αυτο Jacoby does not include in his
citation the concluding words of the last clause, “by his  ο του λογου   το καλον),  speech toward the good” (υπ προς presumably because they do not fit the otherwise negative portrayal of Demosthenes in this citation. Shrimpton (Theopompus the Historian, 176) suggests that these words could have been added by Plutarch but concludes that these words do come from Theopompus. Flower (Theopompus of Chios, 143– 44), however, offers compelling arguments for the attribution of this phrase to Plutarch rather than Theopompus. 78. Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 144– 45.

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own interests, and said explicitly that they did so through ambition (φιλοτιµι α), a quality which he expresses profound disapproval elsewhere (FF 66 and 114). Moreover, the reference to gratitude (χα ρις) reminds us that the Thebans were nominally still allies of Philip, an alliance they repudiate as a result of the power of Demosthenes’ oratory, proving themselves faithless in friendship, another quality, of which Theopompus profoundly disapproves, as we have already seen. Here, clearly, Theopompus does not present Demosthenes’ oratorical talent as a good quality, as it induced the Thebans into a course of action that was both immoral and contrary to their own interests. In the second citation from this passage, after demonstrating how great Demosthenes’ influence became among both the Thebans and the Athenians, Plutarch defends Demosthenes against Theopompus’s assertion that he held absolute power among the Thebans and the Athenians unjustly  αδ  ι κως ουδ  ε παρ  αξ  ι αν). The obvious inference to and unworthily (ουκ be drawn from this passage is that Theopompus considered Demosthenes guilty of abuse of power, a key offense throughout the Philippica. Furthermore, if we put these two citations of Theopompus together, it is evident he considers Demosthenes to have acquired this absolute power through his persuasive oratory. The investigation of these fragments reveals that none of Theopompus’s comments about Demosthenes can be construed as clearly favorable, and two of them explicitly denigrate him, for his political instability (F 326) and for his abuse of power (F 328). Furthermore, two of the fragments (FF 327 and 328, and possibly F 329 by implication) emphasize Demosthenes’ oratorical skill, one in close juxtaposition to his abuse of power. These fragments suggest that Theopompus did not in fact approve of Demosthenes’ oratorical skill but instead portrayed him as a demagogue. Whether or not this material formed part of the digression in book 10,79 like the other demagogues, despite apparently altruistic actions, Demosthenes was motivated only by the desire for political power, which he achieved through his moral corruption of the people. In the twenty-fifth book of the Philippica, Theopompus turns his attention from the Athenian demagogues to the Athenians themselves in another well-known digression (FF 153– 56). His narrative has reached the early 340s by this time (FF 152 and 157), but it is unclear what exactly gave him the impetus to expound upon the claims of international achievement of

79. As tentatively suggested by Jacoby, FGrHist IIC, 396.

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fifth-century Athens.80 Three of the surviving passages concern the Athenian’s achievements against the Persians, but the fourth (F 156) refers to their role in the fifth-century Sacred War, a minor incident of saber-rattling between Athens and Sparta that took place just after Cimon’s expedition to Cyprus and his death (cf. Thucydides 1.112.5). From its tenor, it is clear that this digression was polemical in nature and was intended to debunk grandiose Athenian claims. A citation from Theon (Progymnasmata 2 ⫽ F 153) is the largest of the fragments that remain from this digression. In it, Theon apparently summarizes Theopompus’s view that the oath of Plataea and the treaty with the Persian king against the Hellenes81 were falsified and the Battle of Marathon did not happen in the way the poets all write and “all the other things that the city of Athens boasts about and uses to deceive the Greeks” (this last phrase is apparently verbatim). Whether or not Theopompus is correct in his allegations cannot be determined from the present state of our evidence (the oath at Plataea and a fifth-century peace with Persia in particular are notorious cruces in the study of Greek history).82 Furthermore, only one argument of Theopompus survives directed against the alleged peace with Persia. He objects to public documentation of this peace on the grounds that it was inscribed in the Ionic alphabet introduced to Athens in 403/2 and not in the older Attic script (FF 154 and 155). This evidence is inconclusive, however, because occasional examples of the use of Ionic script on Athenian public documents have been found before 403/2, and furthermore, we do not even know to which putative fifthcentury peace with Persia Theopompus is referring. What seems more important, however, is the fact the language of these fragments does not allow us to infer that he denied outright the existence of any of these events.83 Rather, the inference to be drawn from Theon’s apparent direct quotation in F 153 is that Theopompus objects to the glorious claims 80. Jacoby (FGrHist IIC, 380), citing Schwartz, suggests that perhaps claims similar to those in this digression were made in the Athenian speeches about Olynthus.  Ελληνας of the manuscript has been emended since Spengel (see the 81. The προς discussion of the emendations to this passage in Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 78– 81). 82. The bibliography on these topics is enormous. For a convenient reference to the ancient evidence, see Russell Meiggs, The Athenian Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 155– 56 and 504– 7 (Plataea), and 129– 51 and 487– 95 (Callias). See now also E. Badian, “The Peace of Callias,” JHS 107 (1987): 1– 39; reprinted with additional material in From Plataea to Potideaea: Studies in the History and Historiography of the Pentecontaetia (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), 1– 72; and G. L. Cawkwell, “The Peace between Athens and Persia,” Phoenix 51 (1997): 115– 30. 83. See Connor, Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 81– 94.

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which Athens makes about these events in particular. This is not surprising in view of the heavy emphasis laid upon the oath at Plataea, peace with Persia, and the Battle of Marathon in the panegyrical tradition of the Athens of Theopompus’s day, which he was undoubtedly familiar. Similarly, it is possible, as Connor suggests,84 that Theopompus included a discussion of the fifth-century Sacred War in this digression to deflate Athenian claims to piety in this conflict (scholiast on Aristophanes, Aves 556 ⫽ F 156). If so, then his criticism of Athens’s entry in the socalled Second Sacred War is similar to that of Philip’s in the Third. This fragment is significant, because it indicates this digression was not limited to Athens’s role against the Persians but also, like the digression on the demagogues, contained criticism of Athenian imperialism. Another historical digression renowned for its tone of condemnation is Theopompus’s substantial excursus on the tyrants of Syracuse in books 39 and 40 (FF 185, 188– 94). It seems the digression began with a mention of Dionysius the Elder (Diodorus 16.71.3 ⫽ F 184) but was chiefly concerned with his successors, as is indicated by the fact that Dionysius the Elder himself does not appear in any of the extant fragments, except as the father of Hipparinus and Nysaeus (FF 186– 88).85 Furthermore, Theopompus appears to have reached Dionysius the Younger’s accession by book 39 (F 185). The reason Theopompus appears not to have included Dionysius the Elder (and if he had, it seems likely Athenaeus would have reported at least one spicy anecdote concerning him) may be because he had already found an opportunity to criticize him in book 21 (Athenaeus 6.261a– b ⫽ F 134). In this passage (following the long citation from Theopompus denouncing Philip and his companions ⫽ F 225b), Athenaeus comments upon the similarity between Theopompus’s treatments of Philip and of Dionysius the Elder and gives a citation censuring Dionysius’s method of choosing his depraved companions to prove it. Or (and this seems the more probable explanation for Dionysius the Elder’s apparent absence) his purpose in this digression was to explain the collapse of the Syracusan dynasty with the final overthrow of Dionysius the Younger.86 The content of the extant fragments makes it probable that this is in 84. Theopompus and Fifth-Century Athens, 96 and 175 n. 52. 85. See L. J. Sanders, Dionysius I of Syracuse and Greek Tyranny (London: Croom Helm, 1987), 77– 78. 86. H. D. Westlake, “The Sicilian Books of Theopompus’s Philippica,” Historia 2 (1954): 288– 307; reprinted in Greek Historians and Greek History (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1969), 226– 50, at 233– 36. See now also L. J. Sanders, “Theopompus and the Dionysian Empire,” EMC/CV n.s., 14 (1995): 337– 53.

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fact was the aim of the digression. Apart from some highly uninformative place references from Stephanus of Byzantium, all the extant fragments from this digression are derived from Athenaeus (FF 185– 88, 192– 93), who, as we have seen, is generally accurate in the substance of his citations. The first four fragments describe the decline and fall of various members of the dynasty of Dionysius the Elder through their dissoluteness.87 This subject would have given Theopompus the opportunity to show concretely the consequences of moral misbehavior, for by indulging in a series of vices, including drunkenness, gluttony, promiscuity, and general licentiousness, these members of the Syracusan dynasty brought about their own downfall. It is likely Theopompus reached much the same conclusion about Dionysius the Younger as he did about the other members of his family. In the same context as his remarks about the other Syracusan tyrants, Athenaeus (10.435d ⫽ F 283a) comments that Theopompus lists Dionysius the Younger among the lovers of wine and drunkards and says that he ruined his eyesight through drink. Aelian (Varia Historia 6.12 ⫽ F 283b), clearly drawing from the same passage as Athenaeus, preserves Theopompus’s comment that Dionysius the Younger destroyed his eye sight through the drinking of unmixed wine (ακρατοποσ ι α).88 Jacoby is surely right in suggesting these fragments belong with the digression on the Syracusan tyrants, although no book numbers are preserved. If so, it seems Theopompus depicted Dionysius the Younger as the same sort of dissolute tyrant as his relatives, and we can infer that his downfall was fully deserved as a result of his moral failures. As is the case with the other historical digressions, Theopompus’s digression on the Sicilian tyrants is closely connected to the rest of the Philippica, especially in its link between imperialism and corruption.89 In 87. If it could be established with certainty that Theopompus served as a source either for Diodorus’s Sicilian narrative in book 16 or for Pompeius Trogus/Justin, we would have a fuller picture of the Sicilian digression in the Philippica; see N. G. L. Hammond, “The Sources of Diodorus Siculus XVI, II,” CQ 32 (1938): 137– 51. Along with the more conservative approach of Westlake, “The Sicilian Books of Theopompus’ Philippica,” 241– 50; see Robert Develin, “Pompeius Trogus and Philippic History,” SStor 8 (1985): 110– 15; and N. G. L. Hammond, “The Sources of Justin on Macedonia to the Death of Philip,” CQ n.s., 41 (1991): 496– 508. 88. Cf. Aristotle, EN 1114a25– 28, who comments that those who lose their eyesight through drunkenness or some other form of debauchery are blameworthy (as opposed to those who suffer some sort of natural defect, who are not). 89. On the thematic unity of the Sicilian digression with the rest of the Philippica, see Sanders, “Theopompus and the Dionysian Empire,” 337– 53; pace Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 42 and 92; and Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 153, 161, 163.

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addition to the general observation (common in the Philippica) that moral incontinence eventually brings about destruction, it is likely Theopompus intended a contrast between the dissolute Dionysius the Younger and the Elder Dionysius, who, like the Athenian demagogues and Philip himself, exercised political control through his corruption of others (F 134). This distinction between those who maintain power through their corruption of others and those who are rendered ineffectual by their own indulgence is present throughout the Philippica.90 As the preceding discussion has shown, Theopompus did not intend his digressions to be merely entertaining diversions but rather an integral part of the moral and political thread running through the Philippica. A passage in Dionysius of Halicarnassus offers some support for this view, for he tells us (Epistula ad Pompeium 6.4 ⫽ T 20a) Theopompus included in his work anything wondrous or incredible that happened on land or sea, not just for entertainment (ψυχαγωγι α), but to encompass all practical benefit (ωφελει α). Like Herodotus before him, Theopompus realized the most effective method of offering instruction was through a colorful anecdote. Therefore, he also uses anecdotes on a smaller scale to expand and illuminate the important themes of the Philippica. On the authority of Strabo (1.2.35 ⫽ F 381), Theopompus says he will tell stories better than Herodotus, Ctesias, Hellanicus, and the authors of Indica.91 This judgment is borne out by the testimonies of later writers, such as Cicero (De legibus 1.5 ⫽ T 26a), who refers to Theopompus’s countless stories (innumerabiles fabulae), and Aelian (Varia Historia 3.18 ⫽ T 26b), who  µυθολογος).  calls Theopompus a wonderful storyteller (δεινος An example of Theopompus’s skill in storytelling is to be found in a long paraphrase by Prophyry (De Abstinentia 2.16 ⫽ F 344). It concerns a certain rich Magnesian who was accustomed to making large sacrifices to the 90. H. D. Westlake (review of Shrimpton’s Theopompus the Historian in CR n.s., 42 [1992]: 32– 34) comments (33): “A distinction seems to be detectable between cads, who merely lacked self-control, and supercads, like Philip, who were aggressively vicious and corrupted others.” 91. “Theopompus fully acknowledges it (the inclusion of myths in histories), saying that he would tell stories better than
Herodotus, Ctesias, Hellanicus, and
the authors of
        Indica”
(Θεοποµπος δ ε ε ξοµολογει ται φησας, οτι κα ι µυθους ε ν ται ς ιστοριαις ε ρει  Ηροδοτος   ψαντες). κρει ττον η ως κα ι Κτησι ας κα ι Ελλανικος κα ι ο ι τα Ινδικα συγγρα
Flower
(Theopompus of Chios,
34– 35), however, takes the antecedent of κρει ττον as ε ξοµολογει ται rather than ε ρει , and suggests that Strabo praises Theopompus’s express acknowledgment of the inclusion of stories in his work rather than his storytelling ability. Although the translators of both the Loeb and the Bud´e edition offer similar translations, this does seem a rather strained rendering of the Greek.

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gods. He went to consult the Delphic oracle (and this may be the hook to connect this fragment, which is without book number, to the rest of the Philippica—it may even come from the Thaumasia digression to illustrate the behavior of those who are truly pious) and asked who honored the god the best (expecting to be named himself, naturally). He was dumbfounded when the Pythia replied it was a certain Clearchus, an Arcadian, and he made a journey to Arcadia to find out what exactly this man did to please the gods so. Clearchus, a man of humble means, explained he took special care to honor the gods with what he had. The moral lesson Theopompus wished to drive home in this story is clear: the gods prefer sincere piety to an ostentatious display. As far as can be ascertained from Porphyry’s paraphrase, his narrative in both nature and theme had a Herodotean ring.92 Like Herodotus, many of whose anecdotes contain profound insight, often with a cautionary overtone, into the human condition, Theopompus uses anecdotes to shed light on some of the key themes of his Philippica, but with a more overtly moralizing agenda. Another way Theopompus could draw attention to a particular moral point was by the use of rhetorical devices, which is not surprising in view of his oratorical training and expertise.93 One of the ways in which this rhetorical tendency manifests itself is in wordplay. The most famous example of Theopompus’s use of wordplay is his long invective against Philip (F 225) in book 49 of the Philippica, which occurs on the eve of Philip’s final struggle against the Greek city-states. Demetrius (De elocutione 247 ⫽ T 44) criticizes Theopompus for his use of forced antithesis and cites the following portion of the passage for an example of how stylistic artificiality can destroy the intended force of a statement: “Although they were man slayers by nature, they were man-fornicators ονοι δ ε
by habit” (ανδροφ    φυσιν  "  τροπον τ ην οντες ανδρ οπορνοι τ ην η σαν). Demetrius proceeds to explain how attention is forced upon the affectation of the passage, so that the readers’ ire is not aroused against Philip and his followers. He must have considered this particular example of wordplay exceptionally grotesque, because he cites it in another section of the De elocutione (27 ⫽ F 225bc) along with a second example from the same diatribe against Philip: 92. Cf. Croesus’s questioning of Solon (1.30– 37) and similar disappointment in the answer he receives. 93. A (still) useful review of the ancient literary critics on Theopompus’s style remains that of W. Rhys Roberts (“Theopompus in the Greek Literary Critics,” CR 22 [1908]: 118– 22), the ostensible purpose of which was to show (which it does very successfully) that the somewhat dry Hellenica Oxyrhynchia cannot be from the pen of the moralizing and rhetorical Theopompus.

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“And they were called companions, but they were actually harlots” (κα ι



 ε ται ροι, η σαν δ ε ε ται ραι). Although Demetrius believes ε καλουντο µ εν such artifices impair the vigor of the sentiment, nevertheless it is clear that Theopompus’s use of wordplay to call attention to the degeneracy of Philip and his followers had its desired effect, for two other authorities cite these two “puns” in their fuller passages of invective against Philip derived from Theopompus (Polybius 8.11.11– 12 ⫽ F 225a and Athenaeus 6.260f ⫽ F 225b). Further wordplay on hetairoi is to be found elsewhere in the Philippica, for in book 45 Theopompus censures the Athenian Chares for brining with him on campaign flute girls, harp girls, and foot-soldier girlfriends
(πεζα ι ε ται ραι) (Athenaeus 12.532b ⫽ F 213), which seems a satirical jibe against Philip and his pezhetairoi.94 Such wordplay is of course reminiscent of Gorgias, as is Theopompus’s use of antithesis, which occurs not only in these passages but also in the rhetorical question in F 225 a and b (very similar to a passage in Gorgias’s Epitaphios, as we have just seen). Moreover, Demetrius (De elocutione 250) criticizes Demosthenes, in close association with Theopompus, for the same fault of excessive antithesis in the famous   “you performed initiations; I received them” (ε τελεις, ε γω δ ε ε τελουµην) passage of the De corona (18.265). This indicates that this was an aspect of his rhetoric for which Theopompus was renowned. Another rhetorical feature of Theopompus’s work is irony, some of which has been taken at face value by ancient and modern scholars alike. For  example, Longinus (περ ι υψους 43.1– 2 ⫽ T 42 and F 263) does not recognize the irony contained in Theopompus’s description of the Persian king’s invasion of Egypt and criticizes it for the contrast of its hyperbolic praise with its meager conclusion. He complains that Theopompus failed to produce a tribute to the enormous wealth and power of the Persian king; instead of going from the humble to the sublime, he made the reverse progression. Following an impressive description of the beautiful and expensive goods of the Persian king, Theopompus proceeded to list the enormous numbers of sacks of onions and other condiments, concluding with a hyperbolic portrayal of the heaps of salt meat that stood so high travelers mistook them for cliffs or hills. Instead of being meant as a serious tribute, this passage is an ironic attempt to deflate the pomp and circumstance of the Persian king.95 94. Griffith, A History of Macedonia, vol. 2, 705 n. 4 (in an appendix that helpfully traces the origin of the pezhetairoi 705– 9). 95. Theopompus’s use of irony in this passage was first recognized by Gilbert Murray, “Theopompus, or the Cynic as Historian,” Greek Studies (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946), 149– 70, at 164– 65.

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A more problematic passage is Polybius’s criticism of Theopompus for contradicting himself (8.12.1 ⫽ T 19). According to Polybius (8.11.1 ⫽ F 27), Theopompus states in his proemium that he undertook to write the Philippica because Europe had never before brought forth such a man as   Ευρ ωπην   Philip, the son of Amyntas (δι τ ην ε νηνοχεναι
α το µηδεποτε
  "  τοιουτον ανδρα παρα παν ο ι ον τον Αµυντου Φι λιππον). Despite this claim, Theopompus immediately after this statement proceeds to censure Philip for his dissolute life at every possible opportunity. This apparent discrepancy, however, exists only as the result of Polybius’s misunderstand
ing of the word “such” (τοιουτος). It is not praise but rather an ironical tribute to Philip in view of the invective that is to follow, covering the whole of the Philippica and the entirety of Philip’s career. Indeed Europe had never brought forth such a man as Philip—that is to say, never one who was unprincipled and dissolute on this scale!96 Irony is the only way to reconcile Theopompus’s presentation of Philip’s brilliant career (after all, Philip V of Macedon found enough material to excerpt sixteen books worth) with the condemnation of his character. Furthermore, as we have seen, Theopompus was fond of puns and double entendres.97 Unlike Theopompus’s use of other literary devices, the role of speeches in his historical works is not well documented in either the testimonia or the fragments. Therefore, it is not easy to determine what use Theopompus made of them for moral purposes, although his rhetorical training and experience indicate they played at least some role in his histories. Fortunately, however, Didymus in his commentary on Demosthenes (14.52 ⫽ F 164 and 8.58 ⫽ F 166) has preserved portions of two speeches from the Philippica, concerning events around the time of the Peace of Philocrates. The first quotation (F 164) is attributed to book 26 of the Philippica and puts words into the mouth of Philocrates himself. Philocrates argues for peace on the grounds that Athens can expect no help against Philip from outside; indeed many of the other city-states are hostile. The second fragment (F 166),
96. This interpretation of τοιουτος was first suggested by Murray (“Theopompus, or the Cynic as Historian,” 164– 65) and developed by W. Robert Connor (“History without Heroes,” GRBS 8 [1967]: 133– 54, at 137– 39), and has proven extremely influential (see, e.g., Gordon Shrimpton, “Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip in the Philippica,” Phoenix 31 [1977]: 123– 44 [with some reservations]; R. Lane Fox, “Theopompus of Chios and the Greek World 411– 322 B.C.” in Chios, ed. John Boardman and C. E. VaphopoulouRichardson [Oxford: Clarendon, 1986], 105– 20, at 114– 15; and Flower, Theopompus of Chios, esp. 98– 104). Nevertheless, it is not universally accepted; see, e.g., Bruce, “Theopompus and Greek Historiography,” 94– 96; and Hammond, “The Sources of Justin,” 503 and n. 24. 97. Cf. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 115– 20.

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which Didymus places in book 27, appears to be a reply to Philocrates given by Aristophon, who objects to the proposed peace in highly rhetorical terms. Athens would be cowardly to accept the peace and abandon Amphipolis, given her strength in allies, triremes, and annual revenue. The style of these speeches is un-Thucydidean, flowing with an easy grace, unlike the convoluted expression of Thucydides in his speeches.98 Their function, however, is Thucydidean,99 as these speeches serve to reinforce the sentiments expressed in the diatribe against Athenian foreign policy in book 25.100 The digression debunking Athens’s glorious claims in the preceding chapter of the Philippica gives the reasons for Athens’s unpopularity as understood (correctly) by Philocrates and shows up Aristophon’s grandiose braggadocio as no more than empty words. Thus, it seems, Theopompus uses the speeches of Philocrates and Aristophon to reinforce his own moral and political opinions. Plutarch (Praecepta rei publicae gerendae 803a– b ⫽ T 33) comments that oratory is appropriate in historical writings for politicians and generals when they must persuade the citizens or exhort their armies, but criticizes Theopompus (along with Ephorus and Anaximenes) for the unsuitability of sentiments he places in the mouths of generals addressing their armies. As was the case with Ephorus, it is likely Plutarch did not consider the commanders’ harangues in Theopompus’s historical work to be good fictive oratory because they contained mostly trite moral sentiments. The question of whether or not Theopompus propounds a specific political program in the Philippica is one that has long been under debate, especially given the problematic question of his view of Philip. Some have argued Theopompus approved of Sparta’s actions at the beginning of the fourth century and then, after the collapse of the Spartan attempt at empire, turned to Philip as the object of his admiration, either through panhellenism, a concept he had inherited from Isocrates,101 or through a desire to return to strict order and a hierarchical society.102 There is little support, however, for the suggestion that Theopompus was favorable toward fourth-century Sparta. One rather tenuous piece of evidence is Photius’s statement that Theopompus’s father was exiled from 98. Cicero (Brutus 66 ⫽ T 36) says that this ease of expression was characteristic of Theopompus’s speeches in general. 99. See Bruce, “Theopompus and Greek Historiography,” 106. 100. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 84– 85. 101. Kurt von Fritz, “The Historian Theopompus,” AHR 46 (1941): 765– 87. 102. Momigliano, “Teopompo,” 230– 42 and 335– 53.

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Chios for “laconizing” (T 2), although it is an inappropriate conclusion to infer that the son held the same beliefs as the father. Second, and more important, is the fact that Theopompus’s approval of Lysander (FF 20 and 333) and Agesilaus (FF 22 and 106– 7) extends only to their personal virtues, without reference to their politics. In the former’s case, the only extant reference in the Hellenica to the Spartan empire uses the word tyranny (τυραννι ς) to describe the regime of the Thirty at Athens, instituted by Lysander (F 5). Plutarch (Lysander 13.5) attributes to Theopompus “the comic poet” the comparison of Spartans to tavern-women because they gave the Greeks a taste of freedom and then dashed the wine with vinegar since Lysander would not allow the people to govern their affairs but put the cities into the hands of oligarchs. Given the close resemblance between this passage and the one from the Miscellanies of the Byzantine scholar Theodorus Metochites attributed to Theopompus the historian, it is possible that this is a genuine fragment of the historian.103 Even if this statement cannot be definitely attributed to our Theopompus, the Hellenica passage (F 5) reveals that he did not approve of Lysander’s political actions, even if he did admire his personal virtues. Similarly, the only passage that could be construed to imply approval of Agesilaus’s political actions is quoted by Plutarch (Agesilaus 10.9– 10 ⫽ F 321) in which the Spartan king is described as “the greatest and most illustrious

living man,” although he prided himself more (φρονει ν µει ζον) on his virtue than on his leadership. Two more quotations from Plutarch (Agesilaus 31.1 and 32.13 ⫽ FF 322 and 323), however, show the progressive decline of Agesilaus from this summit to bribing his enemies to do what they had intended all along.104 Thus, Theopompus may have approved of some of the personal qualities of Lysander and Agesilaus, especially their self-control over temptation, but there is no evidence for approval of their political policies. It is important to note that Theopompus’s references to individual Spartans of the mid-fourth century are less than complimentary. He censures two Spartan leaders, Pharax and Archidamus, for their un-Spartan and immoral conduct (Athenaeus 12.536b– c and c– d ⫽ FF 192 and 232). Pharax, Theopompus remarks, behaved in so depraved a manner that he was mistaken for a Sicilian (F 192)! Theopompus is not entirely 103. I. A. F. Bruce, “Theopompus, Lysander and the Spartan Empire,” AHB 1 (1987): 1– 5. 104. Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 51.

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favorable toward the fourth-century Spartans as a whole, either. Photius, in his summary of the twelfth book of the Philippica (F 103), describes the behavior of the Spartans just after the King’s Peace as presumptuous
 ερογκα  (υπ φρονει ν). Therefore, it is clear that Theopompus does not approve of the Sparta of his day. Nevertheless, he does praise individual Spartans, such as Lysander and Agesilaus, when they adhere to the traditional, simple, austere Spartan way of life. It seems likely that Theopompus approved of the earlier Spartan system, before the Spartans began actively to seek empire at the end of the fifth century, when the corruption engendered by imperialism manifested itself in the introduction of coined money (F 332). Such a viewpoint would certainly put him in good company among fourth-century intellectuals, for, as we have seen, both Xenophon and Ephorus also held this view. As for Theopompus’s alleged panhellenism, there is no expression of any approval of the concept in the extant portions of his historical works.105 Furthermore, even if Theopompus was a pupil of Isocrates, it does not necessarily follow that he parroted all of his views, especially inasmuch as the ancient authorities attribute to Isocrates an influence on Theopompus’s style (TT 5a, 20a and b, 37, and 38) but say nothing of content. Like Ephorus, Theopompus likely derived the moral basis of his history from Isocrates but distanced himself from some of the Athenian’s political statements, as we see especially in his condemnation of Athens’s imperial past (FF 153– 55), which Isocrates so roundly praises throughout his Panegyricus. Given Theopompus’s approval of the traditional Spartan system of government and his disapproval of the fifth-century Athenian democracy, it is not surprising that he appears to dislike democracy as a whole. Notably, he denounces the democratic Byzantines for their dissolute lifestyle and corruption of the Chalcedonians by bringing them into the democratic government (F 62). As Theopompus indicates both here and elsewhere (FF 85– 100 and 213), the chief weakness of the democratic system of government is that it is liable to corruption by demagogues, which results in the indolence and dissipation of the citizen body, a view similar to Plato in the Gorgias (515a– 519c). Nevertheless, Theopompus did not reserve his disapproval for democracy alone. He has nothing but censure for the equally corrupt lifestyles flourishing under monarchy (see the many fragments relating to Philip), 105. See now Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 83– 90.

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tyranny (see the many fragments relating to the Sicilian tyrant house, among others), and even oligarchy (see, for example, Hegesilochus of Rhodes of F 121), despite his apparent approval of the traditional Spartan system of government. For Theopompus, it seems, the central political problem is that power corrupts. Monarchy, tyranny, and other forms of autocratic rule are only too open to abuse of power, as are democracies, for it is terribly easy to corrupt the masses. Although of course there are exceptions, oligarchy seems the system of government least liable to corruption in Theopompus’s Philippica.106 It is clear, therefore, that Theopompus did indeed have a political program,107 although it is somewhat difficult to discern, as he tends to denounce the way in which certain people or states abuse the power they hold as the result of any given political system, instead of offering criticism of the system itself. The central question is what Theopompus thought of Philip himself. As we have seen above, the only way to reconcile Theopompus’s juxtaposition of the military success of the Macedonian king, arguably the single most important political figure of his lifetime, with his emphasis on his corrupt morals is to understand the reference to Philip as “such a man”
(τοιουτος) in the opening section of the work as ironic. Interestingly, Theopompus and Demosthenes, both of whom spent time at the Macedonian court,108 portray Philip as dissolute and licentious, and as encouraging those around him to join in his debauchery.109 The similarity of the portraits of Philip in Theopompus and Demosthenes does not mean they are not exaggerated, for both contain many of the standard topoi of invective.110 Nevertheless, the Macedonian court was in fact notorious for heavy drinking and unrestrained behavior,111 and so there is the ring of truth behind the accounts of both the historian and the orator. It is important to 106. See also Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 63– 97. 107. Pace Murray, “Theopompus of Chios, or the Cynic as Historian,” 149– 70; Connor, “History without Heroes,” 133– 54; and Lane Fox, “Theopompus of Chios,” 105– 20. 108. Demosthenes was on the infamous peace embassy of 346. Speusippus’s Letter to Philip (T 7) tells us that Theopompus slandered Plato to the Macedonian court. Minor M. Markle III (“Support of Athenian Intellectuals for Philip: A Study of Isocrates’ Philippus and Speusippus’ Letter to Philip,” JHS 96 [1976]: 80– 99, at 93 and n. 42) dates his visit to 343/2, when Philip was considering the choice of tutor for Alexander; possibly Theopompus was a candidate for the position (Lane Fox, “Theopompus of Chios,” 112, and Shrimpton, Theopompus the Historian, 6– 10). 109. Cf. FF 27, 224, 225, 236 with Demosthenes, 2.18– 19. 110. As enumerated by Wilhelm S uss, ¨ Ethos: Studien zur a¨ lteren griechischen Rhetorik (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1910), 247– 54. 111. As noted by Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 109– 11.

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note that there is a clear distinction in the Philippica between those who exert political control by their corruption of others, and those who are rendered ineffectual by their own indulgence. Michael Flower has recently suggested that Theopompus looked for an explanation of Philip’s remarkable success in the decadence of contemporary Greece.112 Certainly Philip’s enervation of his opponents plays a role in his success; yet it is not a sufficient explanation, because he shares in the same vices.113 The key to the matter may lie in a comment surviving from one of the final books of the Hellenica, where Theopompus states that Philip was
lucky in every respect (κα ι ευτυχη σαι παντα Φι λιππον) (F 237a).114 Plutarch (Moralia 856b– c) notes that a common method for historians to detract from success was to attribute it to good luck rather than the subject’s own virtue. It certainly seems as though Theopompus went out of his way to deny that Philip’s astounding success arose out of any positive character traits. Rather, Theopompus is interested in the link between imperialism and corruption, of which Philip represented the culmination, although parallel examples could be found in the fifth- and fourth-century Athenian demagogues and the Syracusan tyrants, which is the device that anchors the historical digressions to the treatment of Philip himself. It is even possible that Theopompus considered military success to be the evidence of depravity, rather than the outcome of moral superiority. The question remains of the extent to which Theopompus misrepresented the past for moralizing purposes in his Philippica. In general, the Philippica was a work that was highly personal in nature, designed to interpret contemporary history in the light of Theopompus’s own moral and political viewpoint. Influenced by his background in oratory, Theopompus often uses excessive language and emphasizes, perhaps even exaggerates, the more sensational elements of that of which he disapproved. His unwillingness to respect accepted tradition as fact and his tendency to choose the more disreputable alternative to point a moral lesson may detract from the accuracy of his interpretation of the events of his time. Furthermore, he often subordinates the true political motivations of historical figures to their alleged desire to corrupt others, as is evident from his discussion of the Athenian demagogues, the Syracusan tyrants, and, of 112. Flower, Theopompus of Chios, 66, 98, 116– 35. 113. Paul P´edech, Trois historiens m´econnus: Th´eopompe—Duris—Phylarche (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1989), 249. 114. I am grateful to one of the referees for drawing this passage to my attention and focusing my thought in this direction.

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course, Philip himself. In his desire to present a non-panegyrical version of Philip’s reign (perhaps in conscious opposition to writers such as Callisthenes, who wrote with the purpose of glorifying their Macedonian patrons), Theopompus appears to have emphasized the more debauched side of life at the Macedonian court. Furthermore, his often violently expressed disapproval is not directed at Philip because of any lack of political or military ability (at least in our extant fragments), but rather on the moral grounds of his corrupting influence. In spite of the ways in which he misrepresents history to provide moral instruction, Theopompus’s Philippica would have provided a salutary counterbalance to contemporary writers glorifying the Macedonian court, for he did have a gift for discerning ulterior motives behind apparently generous gestures, and he was not afraid to speak his mind. Like Ephorus, Theopompus was a product of his time. His insistence on piety and self-control in particular throughout the extant fragments reflects the importance of these moral virtues among the literate elite in the fourth century, although others, such as justice and valor, although more prominent in Ephorus, are less evident in Theopompus. He seems even more influenced than Ephorus by the techniques of rhetoric, and we have seen several specific instances where a nod is made to Gorgias, particularly in the use of antithesis and wordplay. It is also no coincidence that his techniques on occasion are similar to those of his contemporary Demosthenes. Like Ephorus, it is probable that Theopompus derived his use of paradeigmata for moral improvement from Isocrates. Of course, Theopompus’s political views differ from those of the Athenian. In his opinion of the corruption of the Athenian democracy, Theopompus is closer to Plato, while his apparent approval of pre-imperialistic Sparta appears similar to that of Xenophon and Ephorus. In spite of these intellectual influences, Theopompus’s Philippica was unique (not least in its apparent inversion of the traditional equation of moral virtue with military success), coming as it did at the end of an era when individuals could speak their minds.

Conclusion


A

lthough Xenophon begins his Hellenica at almost precisely the point where Thucydides’ history left off, he did not continue the historiographical tradition inherited from Herodotus and Thucydides but instead represents a transition between the fifth century and the Hellenistic period, in his inauguration of paradigmatic history, which became much more overt in Ephorus and Theopompus and the Hellenistic historians. The concern for the moral exercise of political power that we have seen in Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus can also be found in Socrates, Isocrates, and Plato, largely in reaction to the questioning of traditional morality by the sophists and the reestablishment of the Athenian democracy and its use of the techniques of political rhetoric to manipulate the masses. Although Socrates did not found a school, his views on the importance of morality in public life were extremely influential among the generation of Athenian aristocrats active at the end of the fifth century. Both Isocrates and Plato did found systems of education, each stressing (in very different ways) the importance of providing a moral basis to political leadership. Regardless of the degree of personal attachment, Plato and Xenophon are closely associated with Socrates, while Ephorus and Theopompus are not only part of the same intellectual milieu as Isocrates but most likely also students of his (I 176

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have shown direct Isocratean influences upon both historians). It is not surprising therefore that both Ephorus and Theopompus would turn their talent for historical writing to moral purposes. Moreover, prose’s usurpation of poetry’s didactic function for the elite in the early fourth century made historical works a logical instrument for the propagation of moral virtue, especially in civic life, an idea explicitly stated by Isocrates, who had a heavy influence on later fourth-century historiography (a view that has recently become unfashionable). The focus upon political virtue in the works of Plato, Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus brings about a necessary corollary: that the specific moral virtues they propound are directed toward the intellectual elite and are therefore oligarchic. As a result, they are all profoundly antidemocratic and make a (hitherto unrecognized, in the cases of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus) contribution to the literary resistance to Athenian democratic ideology.1 Plato, Xenophon, Ephorus (by inference from his apparent failure to include the fifth-century Athenian empire in his succession of hegemonies), and Theopompus all undermine Athens’s claims to fifth-century achievement, so routinely lauded by the orators. It is telling that Xenophon does not choose to include an account of Athens’s fourth-century empire in the Hellenica, even though this was a topic that should otherwise have appealed to him, with its illustration of how imperialism begets corruption, which in turn begets failure. Overt hostility to the fifth-century Athenian politicians can be found in Plato’s Gorgias, Ephorus (at least in the case of Pericles), and in Theopompus’s famed On the Athenian Demagogues. All four of these writers also exhibit contempt for the unwashed masses, who can easily be manipulated by the rhetoric of demagogic leaders. Because of their oligarchic and antidemocratic views, it is certainly no coincidence that Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus appear to have political sympathies for the Lycurgan constitution of Sparta, that is, the old regime before Sparta also began to exhibit imperialistic tendencies and became corrupted with power and wealth. In this, they are very much representative of the Athenian elite at this time, in that Sparta was considered a paradigm of virtue by Athenian dissidents,2 with the notable 1. Pace Josiah Ober, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens: Intellectual Critics of Popular Rule (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), 121. 2. For the admiration of things Spartan by the Athenian upper class, see Martin Ostwald, From Popular Sovereignty to the Sovereignty of Law: Law, Society, and Politics in FifthCentury Athens (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1986), 235– 36.

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exception of Isocrates, who preferred to remain an internal critic.3 It is no surprise that the moral virtues with which these historians are chiefly concerned—courage, self-control, and piety—are stereotypically Spartan. It may also be as a result of these pro-Spartan and oligarchic political sympathies that Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus offer criticism of tyranny, a phenomenon that was becoming common once more in the Greek world. The Spartans, after all, had always prided themselves on their opposition to tyrants. Moreover, some holders of extreme forms of the physis doctrine had by now suggested ways of justifying absolute authority, which offered the unscrupulous ample opportunities for acts of utmost tyranny and unrestrained self-indulgence. It is likely as a response to arguments of this sort that the historians show those who acquire power improperly and wield it immorally do not prosper (with the exception of Theopompus’s presentation of Philip, whose success in spite of his corrupt morals is attributed to luck). Despite their aversion to democracy and those who pander to it, these fourth-century prose writers do not hesitate to borrow techniques intended to appeal to the masses. Both Ephorus and Theopompus resort to the techniques of comedy and political invective. Moreover, the influence of rhetoric is apparent in all three historians, although the relationship is uneasy. The preference for more “rhetorical” techniques over explicit condemnation is a feature of fourth-century historical writing and is also part of Plato’s method, as is the case in the Menexenus, where he does not challenge the flattery of political rhetoric directly but parodies it instead. Although both Isocrates and Plato deliberately set their systems of education in opposition to the training in rhetoric offered by the sophists, both found it necessary to borrow some of the techniques of rhetoric to persuade others of their views in their written works. Whereas political oratory, the aim of which is the persuasion of the mob, is a great evil, the techniques of rhetoric, put to proper use, can be beneficial in the instruction of moral virtue. The message that Isocrates and Plato have passed to our historians is that the primary purpose of rhetoric, when it is properly used, is not to persuade but to educate. It is not surprising, therefore, that the influence of rhetoric varies greatly between Xenophon, who was writing earlier in the century, and Ephorus and Theopompus, who had the 3. Ober, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens, 282; cf. Andrea Wilson Nightingale, Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 13– 59.

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opportunity to avail themselves of the writings of Isocrates and Plato. Xenophon disapproved of rhetoric, because of its frequent use by demagogues to lead the masses away from the better path. Ephorus and Theopompus, however, were quite willing to borrow the techniques of rhetoric, including the use of a system of praise and blame, to achieve their ultimate goal of moral education of the elite. In Theopompus in particular can be seen the influence of Gorgias. Nevertheless, these fourth-century prose writers do not want to be seen as pandering to the masses and emphasize their insistence on the aristocratic concept of moral virtue. In contrast to the use of historical examples by the oratorical tradition to create the official Athenian democratic version of the past, they develop an alternative aristocratic version. The influences of rhetoric and the sophists can further be seen in the use of examples and models (used also, notably, by Socrates and Isocrates), but turned, of course, to a moral purpose. We also find an emphasis on specific motifs, such as the culture bringer in Ephorus, used as a justification for imperialism. In fact, in Xenophon, Isocrates, and Ephorus, just as in the orators, moral superiority is touted as the justification for the acquisition of power, although when imperialism engenders corruption, success quickly falls away. In Theopompus, the emphasis is on the unjustifiable nature of Philip’s imperialism because of his immorality. Surprisingly, however, the relativistic approach to moral virtue, characteristic of the sophists, is still present, for underlying the work of Xenophon and Ephorus is the notion that the reason to engage in moral behavior is to ensure military or political success. Because it was not in the Greek character to practice moral virtue for its own sake, both Socrates and Isocrates provide arguments of the utility of moral behavior, and their legacy is evident. In Xenophon and Ephorus in particular, success in civic life is explicitly linked with moral virtue, and Theopompus too was concerned with practical benefit (ωφελε ι α). Nevertheless, it is worth noting that the historiographical tradition of the fourth century has not really progressed philosophically beyond the relativistic view of moral virtue attributed to the sophists, but has just applied it to a new kind of terrain. As I have previously demonstrated, Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus have a common aim in their use of the past to educate the elite in aristocratic virtue and employ similar techniques, such as digressions, anecdotes, speeches, praise and blame, positive and negative exempla, and peripeteiai (explicitly in the case of Xenophon and by inference from the frequent use of negative exempla in Ephorus and Theopompus) to shape

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their material. Nevertheless, there are significant differences among these three historians and their conceptions of what a moral history should be. Xenophon is particularly concerned with courage, piety, and the exercise of moral military and political leadership. His conception of moral virtue is more strictly military than that of the other historians as a result of his aim of getting the aristocrats back into the army and politics. For the most part, he avoids direct statements of praise and blame, and tends to indicate his opinion more indirectly by way of positive and negative exempla. As has often been noticed, Xenophon is reluctant to express blame directly and tends to use negative exempla for this purpose, a more congenial method for the first historian to make the paradigm the central focus of his work. Xenophon’s inauguration of paradigmatic history is indeed the most important contribution he made to the historiographical tradition, and the influence of the Hellenica upon subsequent historians has until recently been underrated (largely) because of modern scholars’ general dislike of his approach to history. Ephorus concentrates rather on the maintenance of a simple and moderate way of life promoting military valor, which in turn leads to a harmonious and secure society. His interest in paideia at the societal level leads him to focus upon the rise and fall of hegemonies rather than that of individual leaders. This desire for a larger scope may have been the impetus for his inauguration of universal history, an important legacy to the historiographical tradition. Theopompus, on the other hand, in the Philippica directs his attention upon the individual. The surviving fragments and testimonia reveal a vituperative tone of moral self-righteousness particularly directed against those who exhibit a lack of self-control and a penchant for conspicuous consumption. Theopompus’s particular vehemence against self-indulgence can probably be explained as his attempt to show how those afflicted with this vice play into the hands of autocrats (of whom Philip is naturally the supreme example) who use others’ lack of self-control to seize power. Another important difference between Xenophon and his counterparts later in the fourth century is their reaction to the unsettled political conditions of contemporary Greece. It is important to note that all three were debarred from participation in active politics (like Herodotus and Thucydides before them)—Xenophon by his exile, and Ephorus and Theopompus by residence abroad. Whereas Xenophon, possibly as a result of his military background, offered a prescriptive solution to the troubles of Athens, Ephorus and Theopompus, both of whom were criticized for their lack of actual military experience, turned instead to an ideal of what the perfect

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society would be if one could restore the Sparta of yore or escape to some distant utopia (inspired perhaps in this by Plato). Possibly this is also why Xenophon, like Thucydides, chose a confined subject consisting of events of his own lifetime, but Ephorus and Theopompus extended their narratives in both space and time far beyond their own direct experience. This breadth would provide fertile terrain for moralizing, especially if the moralizing to be done was meant to be in the abstract, from hindsight, and without prescriptive purpose. Perhaps to the minds of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus, the moral purpose of their histories excuses some of their deficiencies, which are really very similar to the distortions of history in the political orations, satirized by Plato in the Menexenus. The most obvious deficiency of Xenophon’s Hellenica is its omissions, although Ephorus and Theopompus may also be guilty of this fault (particularly if, as it seems, Ephorus did not deign to include the fifth-century Athenian empire in his succession of hegemonies), but the fragmentary condition of their histories makes it more difficult to detect. In the works of all three historians, we find underemphasis, exaggeration, and even suppression of facts in order often to provide a better moral contrast for a system of praise and blame or paradigms, both positive and negative. Digressions and anecdotes in the fourth-century historians take on a role similar to that of mythological and historical allusions in oratory, although the aim is once again the promotion of aristocratic virtue rather than democratic ideology. In general, these fourth-century historians subordinate historical accuracy to the moral education of the elite, the sort of manipulation of strict historical truth that would be deemed acceptable by both Plato and Isocrates because it is sanctioned by a higher calling. In their use of the past as a source of moral exampla, however, our historians are very much products of their own day. For Plato and Isocrates, it is acceptable to misrepresent the past as a vehicle for moral instruction; Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus are clearly working within the same tradition. Not only do the fourth-century prose writers represent a moral viewpoint somewhere between the popular morality of the orators and the dedicatory inscriptions and the moral philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, but they also play an important paeideutic function, because they replace the poets in their traditional function of providing moral advice to aspiring political leaders. Moreover, their infusion into historical works of the moral views of the educated elite represents an important transition point in the history of historiography. These fourth-century historians not

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only introduce a personal and moral interpretation of the past, but they also usher in such innovations as paradigmatic history, praise and blame, peripeteiai, vituperation, and universal history, which prove to exert a great influence upon subsequent historians. Indeed, it is fair to say that one cannot achieve a full insight into the later historians of the Greek and Roman period without a proper understanding of the historical works of Xenophon, Ephorus, and Theopompus.

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Index


accuracy: in Ephorus, 1, 115, 120– 27, 141; in Plato, 47– 48; in Theopompus, 1, 174– 75; in Thucydides, 7– 8, 39 Aegospotami, Battle of, 43, 54 Aelian, 140, 154, 165– 66 Aeschines, 159 Aetolians, 122– 23, 129, 133, 139 Agesilaus, 33– 35, 70, 75, 76, 83– 85, 134, 149, 171– 72 Agesipolis, 84– 85, 96 Agis (II), 95– 96 Alcibiades, 35– 36, 97 Amazons, 137, 139 ambition (philotimia), 72, 91, 93– 94, 108– 9, 137, 150, 161– 62 Anacharsis, 126– 27 Anaximenes, 140– 41, 147, 170 Andocides, 42, 52n. 60, 56, 157 Androtion, 156– 57 anecdotes, 105– 8 Anonymus Iamblichi, 18– 19, 29, 31 Antiphon, 14, 16

antithesis, 17, 167– 68, 175 aphorisms, 140– 41 Apollonius of Rhodes, 124 Arcadia, 125, 129, 167; Arcadian Confederacy, 71– 73, 91– 92, 97 Arginusae: Battle of, 54, 95, 98; trial of the generals, 54, 98– 99, 111 Argonauts, 124– 25, 139 Aristophanes, 29, 134 Aristotle, 36, 111, 136, 181; Athenaion politeia, 15, 158; Eudemus, 154– 55; Meteorologica, 125– 26; Nicomachean Ethics, 30; Politics, 111, 137 Aspasia, 49, 59– 61 atheism, prosecutions for, 12– 13 Athenaeus, 115– 16, 129, 135– 36, 145– 48, 151– 52, 157, 164– 65 Athens: crisis of late fifth century in, 5, 9, 12, 14– 15, 176; democratic ideology in, 2– 4, 24, 30, 38– 64, 129, 179; elite in, 2– 4, 15, 20– 21, 24, 29– 37, 39, 46, 111– 12, 129; fifth-

199

200

in dex

Athens (continued) century empire of, 16, 41– 42, 50, 52, 132, 156– 64, 167; imperialism of, 24– 25, 40, 43, 46, 50– 53, 63– 64, 71, 134, 142, 158– 59, 164, 174; legendary history of, 39– 40; oligarchic revolutions in, 3, 15, 24, 31, 111– 12. See also Ephorus, attitude toward Athens; Second Athenian Confederacy; Sicilian expedition; Theopompus, attitude toward Athens; Xenophon, attitude toward Athens Boeotia. See Ephorus, attitude toward Boeotia; Theopompus, attitude toward Thebes; Xenophon, attitude toward Thebes Callias, Peace of, 163– 64 Callicratidas, 94– 95, 98 Callisthenes, 175 Callistratus, 156, 158– 59 Cimon, 46, 157– 58, 163 Cleon, 158– 59 comedy, 37, 117, 134, 150, 157, 178 Conon, 55– 56, 76, 94 Corinth, 85, 88– 89 Corinthian War, 44, 55– 59, 63 corruption, 137, 142, 156, 158– 59, 162, 165– 66, 172– 75, 177– 79 courage, 19– 20, 31– 36, 79, 84, 91– 92, 129– 30, 132, 137, 175, 178, 180 Crete, constitution of, 124, 130– 31, 133, 135 Critias, 80; authorship of Sisyphus fragment, 11 culture-hero, 25, 121– 22, 127, 142, 179 Delphi: festival at, 101; oracle of, 96, 101, 121– 22, 130, 133, 137, 139, 155, 167; sanctuary at, 102, 126, 134, 136, 155

demagogues, 75, 111, 156, 162, 172, 174, 177– 78 Democritus, 11 Demosthenes, 159– 62, 168, 173– 75 Dercylidas, 76– 80, 105– 8, 135 digressions, 7, 99– 105, 124, 129, 139– 41, 153– 67, 174, 179, 181 Diodorus Siculus, 117– 19, 126, 132, 134, 136, 138, 139n. 75, 141, 144 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 147– 48, 151, 153, 166 Dionysius I, of Syracuse, 164– 66 Dionysius II, of Syracuse, 153, 164– 66 Dissoi Logoi, 13 drunkenness, 148– 50, 152– 53, 165 Duris of Samos, 119 education, 2– 4, 16, 26– 30, 108– 12, 131, 133, 139, 141, 153– 54, 175, 178– 81. See also Isocrates, and education Epaminondas, 66, 92– 94, 103, 109– 10, 131 Ephorus, 1– 4, 113– 42, 151, 153, 176– 82; attitude toward Athens, 132, 133– 34, 142, 177, 181; attitude toward Boeotia, 131– 32; attitude toward Sparta, 129– 33, 135, 142, 172, 175, 177– 78; avoidance of mythological period, 114, 120– 25, 139, 142; autopsy in, 120, 141; moral virtue in, 122– 23, 125, 127– 29, 131– 33, 137, 142, 151, 175, 179, 181; sources for History, 119– 20; student of Isocrates, 2, 27– 29, 119– 20, 133, 142, 172, 175– 77; style, 119, 148; writing for elite, 29, 129, 177, 179, 181 Eubulus, 156, 158 Euphron of Sicyon, 103– 5, 109 Evagoras. See Isocrates, Evagoras examples (exempla), 1, 34, 39, 85– 87, 104, 110, 124, 128, 135– 38, 140– 42, 152– 53, 175, 179– 81

Index fiction (pseudologia), 26– 27, 48 flattery, 150 fragments, working with, 114– 19, 145– 47 funeral orations (epitaphioi), 39, 46n. 43, 48– 64, 160 gluttony, 150, 152, 165 gods: divine intervention, 6, 88– 97, 104; divine retribution, 68– 70, 88– 94, 126, 155; references to by characters, 74– 75, 89– 94, 98, 101; reverence for, 83– 84, 96, 105, 167; sacrifices to, 96, 106– 7, 166– 67; skepticism toward existence of, 10– 12, 15 Gorgias, 16– 18, 31, 45, 62, 138– 40, 152, 168, 175, 179 greed (pleonexia), 130– 31 harmony (homonoia), 129– 32, 135 Hellanicus, 114, 166 Heraclitus, 9– 10 Herodotus, 120, 126– 27, 129, 136, 176, 180; influence on fourthcentury historians, 9, 133; moralizing in, 6– 7, 29; narrative of Persian Wars, 41, 57; reminiscences in Theopompus, 154, 166– 67; reminiscences in Xenophon, 68– 69, 81n. 48, 88, 110 historical examples: in Attic orators, 38, 45, 179, 181; in Herodotus and Thucydides, 39; in Isocrates, 26– 29; in Plato, 47 Homer, 4, 30, 126, 128, 131 humanity (philanthropia), 33, 100, 104, 106 Hyperbolus, 157– 58 imperialism, 24– 25, 32, 71, 78, 94, 105, 111, 122, 142, 165, 172, 174, 177, 179. See also Athens, imperialism of

201

impiety, 68, 72, 79, 85, 87– 90, 96, 102, 123, 126, 136, 150, 155 instruction. See education Iphicrates, 74, 78– 79 Isocrates, 2– 3, 5, 21– 29, 35, 133, 176, 177– 81; conception of rhetoric, 27, 178– 79; and education, 3, 22– 29, 32, 178, 181; political views, 24– 26, 28, 178; and the sophists, 22, 27– 29, 178; Against the Sophists, 22; Antidosis, 22– 24; Evagoras, 24– 25, 30, 32– 34, 36, 121– 22; Panathenaicus, 24, 26; Panegyricus, 24– 26, 63, 74. See also Ephorus, student of Isocrates; Theopompus, student of Isocrates Jason of Pherae, 99– 103, 109, 133 justice, 11, 14, 16, 18– 20, 31– 36, 80, 127– 29, 140, 149, 151, 153– 55, 175 King’s Peace, 44, 56, 68, 71 Lelantine War, 129 Leuctra, Battle of, 70– 71, 89– 90, 97, 99, 101– 2, 104, 131, 135 literacy, 3, 29– 30, 175 luxury, 86, 125, 129– 30, 133, 136, 150– 51 Lycomedes, 72– 73, 97, 109 Lycurgus, 130– 32, 138, 140, 177 Lysander, 43, 83, 94, 109, 134– 35, 148– 49, 171– 72 magic, 18, 44n. 36, 62, 138 Mania, satrap of Aeolis, 105– 8 Mantinea, Battle of, 92– 94, 109– 10, 131 Marathon, Battle of, 40, 51– 52, 163– 64 Miltiades, 46 nomos/physis antithesis, 13– 14, 18

202

in dex

oaths, 33– 35, 68, 83, 89– 90 obedience, importance for leader to inspire, 35, 83– 85, 97, 110 Olympic Games, 91, 137, 154 oracle, consultation of, 96. See also Delphi, oracle of orators, Attic, 117, 134, 157, 177, 181; use of democratic ideology by, 2, 38– 64, 74, 178– 81 paideia, 3, 22n. 84, 24, 131, 180 paradigm. See examples Peisistratus, 157 Pelasgians, 124– 25 Pelopidas, 69 Peloponnesian War: in Attic orators, 42– 43, 53– 54, 57; effect on society, 5, 12– 15 Pericles, 133– 34, 142, 156, 158, 177; association with fifth-century imperialism, 46, 61, 64, 142; funeral oration in Thucydides, 60; prosecutions of his friends, 12– 13, 133– 34 peripetaiai, 73, 109– 10, 171, 182 Persia: involvement in Greek affairs, 44, 54– 59, 77; Persian Wars, 40– 41, 47, 50– 52, 57, 132, 136, 163– 64; way of life (in contrast to Greek), 35– 36, 135, 168 Pharnabazus, 106– 8 Pheidon of Argos, 137– 38, 142 philanthropia. See humanity Philip II, of Macedon, 136, 139, 144– 45, 149– 53, 155– 56, 164, 166– 70, 172– 75, 178– 79 Philip V, of Macedon, 144, 153, 169 Phocians, 136, 155 philotimia. See ambition Photius, 139, 146– 47, 153, 170, 172 piety, 19– 20, 31– 36, 74, 79– 80, 83– 85, 104, 107, 111, 127, 149, 151, 153– 55, 164, 167, 175, 178, 180 Pindar, 31– 32 Plataea: Battle of, 41; oath of, 41, 163– 64; siege of, 8, 42

Plato, 1– 4, 21, 45– 64, 176– 82; association with Socrates, 2, 19, 21, 176; moral virtues in, 31– 32, 35; “noble lie,” 26, 48; opposition to rhetoric, 45– 48, 50, 61– 64, 178; and the sophists, 10, 14, 17, 45; writing for elite, 29– 37, 46, 63, 175, 177– 81; Alcibiades, 35– 36; Apology, 45; Critias, 47; Gorgias, 14, 17, 45– 49, 61, 156n. 51, 172, 177; Laws, 47, 51; Menexenus, 2, 44, 46– 64, 74, 178, 181; Phaedrus, 17, 59; Republic, 14, 47– 48; Symposium, 32, 35, 45, 47– 48, 60; Timaeus, 47 Plutarch, 117, 119, 133, 140– 41, 146– 48, 159– 61, 170– 71, 174 Polybius, 9, 119– 20, 124, 129– 31, 138– 40, 145– 47, 151– 52, 169 praise and blame, 17– 18, 84– 85, 133– 35, 140– 41, 151, 179– 82 prefaces, 138– 39, 141, 153 Procles of Phlius, 74– 75 Prodicus, 10– 11, 19n. 67 Protagoras, 10– 13, 13, 16– 17 Python, 121– 24, 135– 36 relativism, 9– 13, 16, 20, 32 rhetoric, 2, 5, 15– 18, 23, 27, 29, 111, 139– 41, 176– 79; influence on Attic oratory, 39; rhetorical techniques, 33– 34, 167– 69, 175, 178– 79. See also Isocrates, conception of rhetoric; Plato, opposition to rhetoric Sacred War: Second, 163; Third, 126, 155 sacrifice. See gods, sacrifices to sacrilege. See impiety Salamis, Battle of, 40– 41, 52, 124 Scythians, 116, 126– 30, 133, 135 Second Athenian Confederacy, 159; formation of, 63, 66– 71 self-control, 31– 36, 78– 80, 100– 101, 121, 126, 148– 49, 151– 53, 171, 175, 178, 180

Index Seneca, 125– 26 shame (aidos), 11, 35 Sicilian expedition, 42– 43, 54 Sisyphus fragment, 11, 122 Socrates, 2, 5, 22, 29, 142, 176, 179; described by Xenophon, 35; did not teach, 19; questioning of traditional moral virtues, 19– 21, 31; “Socratic method,” 20; trial and condemnation, 21. See also Plato, association with Socrates; Xenophon, association with Socrates sophists, 2, 5, 9– 15, 18– 19, 29, 31– 32, 37, 111, 139– 42, 176, 178. See also Isocrates, and the sophists; Plato, and the sophists sophrosyne. See self-control Sparta: constitution of, 124, 130– 31, 133, 177; hegemony of, 43, 68, 131– 32, 138, 171; way of life, 24, 35– 36, 70, 100, 129– 31, 135. See also Ephorus, attitude toward Sparta; Theopompus, attitude toward Sparta; Xenophon, attitude toward Sparta speeches, in historical works, 6, 74– 75, 79, 97– 99, 106, 140– 41, 169– 70, 179 Stephanus of Byzantium, 116, 136, 165 Strabo, 116, 119– 31, 135, 137, 166 Tearless Battle, 72– 73, 97 Teleutias, 79– 81, 85, 98, 100 Thebes, 89– 90; medizing of, 41. See also Ephorus, attitude toward Boeotia; Theopompus, attitude toward Thebes; Xenophon, attitude toward Thebes Themistocles, 46, 132, 158 Theopompus, 1– 4, 143– 82; attitude toward Athens, 156– 64, 170, 172, 175; attitude toward Sparta, 170– 73, 175, 177– 78, 181; attitude toward Thebes, 161– 62; moral virtue

203

in, 148– 51, 161, 178; panhellenism of, 170, 172; political views of, 173– 74; student of Isocrates, 2, 27– 29, 119, 148, 170, 172, 175– 77; style, 119, 147– 48, 167– 70, 172; view of Philip II, 169, 173– 75, 178– 79; writing for elite, 29, 175, 177, 179, 181; epitome of Herodotus, 143– 44; Hellenica, 143– 44, 148– 49; On the Athenian Demagogues, 156– 59, 164, 177; On the Funds Plundered from Delphi, 151, 155; Philippica, 139, 143– 82; Thaumasia, 154– 55 Theramenes, 80– 81, 99 Thibron, 77– 80, 106 Thirty, the, 43, 55, 88– 90, 109, 111– 12, 171 Thrasybulus, 55, 78– 80, 88– 90, 95 Thucydides, 37, 53, 120, 129, 134, 144, 158, 176, 180– 81; influence on fourth-century historians, 1, 9, 141, 170; moralizing in, 1, 7– 9, 29 Thucydides, son of Melesias, 156– 58 Tissaphernes, 83, 106 Tityus, 116, 121, 123, 136 tyranny, 18, 99, 108, 137– 38, 171, 173, 178; at Syracuse, 15, 164– 66, 173– 74. See also Euphron of Sicyon; Jason of Pherae valor. See courage wealth, 136, 148, 151, 168, 177 wisdom (sophia), 31– 36 Xenophanes, 9– 10 Xenophon, 1– 4, 29, 151, 176– 82; association with Socrates, 2, 19, 21, 35, 100, 110, 142, 176; attitude toward Athens, 71, 74– 76, 82, 84– 85, 111– 12, 177; attitude toward Sparta, 66– 90, 100, 102, 108, 110– 11, 135, 142, 172, 175, 177– 78;

204

in dex

Xenophon (continued) attitude toward Thebes, 66– 76, 84– 85; good order in, 78, 80, 86, 110– 11; ideal leader in, 33– 35, 78– 81, 85– 87, 101, 107, 180; moral virtue in, 33– 35, 82– 83, 100– 101, 104, 106, 110– 11, 179; natural phenom-

ena in, 94– 97; writing for elite, 29– 37, 66, 76, 111– 12, 177, 180– 81; Agesilaus, 30, 33– 36, 83– 84, 100; Cynegeticus, 111; Cyropaedia, 30, 33, 84, 100; Hellenica, 2, 65– 112, 176, 180; Memorabilia, 35; Respublica Lacedaemoniorum, 84, 100