Ctesias' Persian History. Part I: Introduction, Text and Translation 394182001X, 9783941820012

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Reihe Geschichte Band 2

weilsm

—

Ctesias' Persian History Part I; Introduction, Text, and Translation

by

Jan P. Stronk

Wellem Verlag - Düsseldorf

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To my teacher, tutor, and friend Jan Maarten Bremer

From A.J. Lerner/F. Loewe, My Fair Lady, London 1956: Alfred Doolittle

»I'm willing to tell you I'm wanting to tell you I'm waiting to tell you.«

Henry Higgins

»You know, Pickering, this chap's got a certain natural

gift of rhetoric. Observe the rhythm of his native woodnotes wild: I'm willing to tell you I'm wanting to tell you I'm waiting to tell you.« That's the Welsh strain in him.«

Preface During a conference on Xenophon at Toulouse (Dans les pas des dix-mille«) early in February 1995, Christopher Tuplin put me on Ctesias’ trail. I had just finished my PhD thesis, » The Ten Thousand in Thrace, and was looking for a new

but related subject. He convinced me that research into Ctesias’ Persica would be very interesting and rewarding. As might be expected, his suggestion proved to be worthwhile and work on Ctesias looked to proceed promisingly and (relatively) prosperously. All that changed on 31 August 1995, when an excavator

dug its way into my car. In itself it was an appropriate end of a life as a field archaeologist, but the next three years proved to be a bit of a problem. That I found myself back in a wheelchair with a spinal cord injury was the least of my worries. Harder was that I had to learn to read (and to remember what I had read ten minutes ago) and write again, plus some of those other skills people usually take for granted (like using a computer keyboard). I cannot thank staff, nurses and doctors of »Heliomare revalidatie« (rehabilitation! enough for their

efforts to help me first to cope with those problems and next to overcome them to a large extent. Equally grateful I am to all those other patients who showed by their examples that there was a world to win for those determined to persevere. A special word of gratitude is in place for some friends, who encouraged and supported me (and my family) far beyond prevailing use, especially in those uncertain times:

Leo Bokma, Fred L. Diel, and Fred and Marion Siegmund.

They showed how priceless an asset as friendship is. Late in 1998, I gradually resumed work on Ctesias and was fortunate enough

to be allowed to present the first results of my efforts during the conference Xenophon and his World: at Liverpool in July of 1999, again with a large debt to Christopher Tuplin for inviting me. An enlarged and elaborated version of the paper I presented at Liverpool was published in Mnemosyne in 2007 as »Ctesias of Cnidus, a Reappraisal. Further progress and, indeed, the outlines of a kind of

coherent picture of the method of the author of the Persica (»Ctesias the Poet:) I could announce in 2006 during a conference at Kiel (Schloss Salzau), entirely devoted to Ctesias. It is due to appear in the Proceedings of that conference,

_ which are momentarily still in preparation. The previous year I had focused on some loose ends in a paper in Talanta (2004/2005): »Ctesias of Cnidus. From Physician to Author« The present work combines insights outlined in those papers, but framed in an, I believe, more solid and more comprehensive context.

VIII

Ctesias' Persian History

Since the introductory chapters, the accounting for the text, the text itself, and the translation form a coherent entity, I have chosen to publish them separately, as the first of what eventually will be an edition consisting of two volumes. In spite of the presence of an account how I established the text and the various readings I have opted for, I nevertheless choose to call this edition an editio minor because of a traditional point of view: the lack of a proper apparatus. The second volume, consisting of an extensive historical commentary and a conclusion will, I hope, be ready in 2012. When I resumed my research on the Persica, I was aware that at that time Dominique Lenfant was already working on her edition of all of Ctesias' fragments. The reasons for me to continue work on this edition I shall explain in Chapter I, section 3. I do not believe that the decision to publish this edition in

two volumes does detract from the arguments expounded in that section. Obviously I have to thank many people who have supported me in one way or another during my search for Ctesias. Christopher Tuplin I already mentioned. I am immensely grateful to Fik Meijer, professor emeritus of the chair of Ancient History, Universiteit van Amsterdam, who granted me a position as a research associate to the department, and his successor, Emily Hemelrijk, who

continued this assignment. My thanks are also due to Prof. Irene J.F. de Jong (Ancient Greek, Universiteit van Amsterdam) and the Van der Valkfonds of the »Amsterdamse Universiteits Vereniging: for giving me a grant that enabled me to visit both the Liverpool and Kiel conferences. I also owe a debt to Josef Wiesehófer (Kiel), Carsten Binder (Düsseldorf), Reinhold Bichler (Innsbruck), Marco Dorati (Urbino), Dominique Lenfant (Strasbourg), and many others who gave useful comments on my paper during the Kiel conference: I greatly benefited from their insight. Also after the conference I exchanged views regarding Plutarch in general and his Life of Artoxerxes in particular with Carsten Binder, much to my advantage. Armenuhi Drost-Abgarjan (Universität Halle) was so kind to provide me with the text in Armenian of Eusebius’ Chronicle and to check the correctness of the translation. With Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones of Edinburgh University, Shane Brennan, now at Exeter University, and Mehran

Nickbakht (Heinrich-Heine-Universitát, Düsseldorf) I have had an interesting exchange of ideas regarding several aspects of this work as well. Apart from that, Shane Brennan was kind enough to read through draft versions of sev-

eral chapters to correct the worst examples of my »Dunglish«. A similar task was performed by Wilbert van Dijk (Leiden): to both I owe a great debt. A final check was done by Prof. Edwin M. Carawan (Missouri State University), to whom I am extremely grateful. Others to whom I am greatly indebted for help in various forms are: Sherilee Bassett (Perth, Australia), Cees van Veelen (Am-

sterdam), Jona Lenderink (Amsterdam), Clio Stronk (Leiden), Alain Corbeau (Leiden), Hans van Wees (London), Dirk Obbink of the Oxford Oxyrhynchus

Preface

IX

Papyri Project, Ms. Patricia Spencer, and the board of the Egypt Exploration

Society for the permission to reproduce the photograph of P. Oxy. 2330 and the board of CDL

Press, in particular its president, Mark E. Cohen (Bethesda, Md.,

USA), for their permission to reproduce both map 1 and map 61 from Olof Pedersén, Archives and Libraries in the Ancient Near East, 1500-300 B.C. It may be obvious that, in spite of all the contributions each of the people mentioned above has made, I alone am responsible for any remaining mistakes. My thanks are due to the directors of the Wellem Verlag (Carsten Binder and

Lina Unterbórsch) who have in the most friendly and efficient manner undertaken the publication of this book. In the preface of» The Ten Thousand in Trace 1 wrote: »I know by now how difficult it is to write a book. How it is to share the house with one who is writ-

ing a book I do not know, but I guess it must be pretty tough. My wife, Anne Keverkamp, and my daughters, Merel and Clio, not only survived my tempers, but even succeeded most of the time in pretending that everything was going on quite normal.« These words are, more or less, even more valid today: both

my daughters Merel (and her partner Niels van Oostwaard, a trusted source of information to deal with computer problems) and Clio still help out wherever they can. Anne is a formidable source of support: without her, this work would

have been impossible. One name remains to be mentioned. Since I started writing my PhD thesis, 20 odd years ago, Jan Maarten Bremer, now a professor emeritus of Ancient Greek Literature at the Universiteit van Amsterdam, has supported me as a teacher, a tutor, and above all as a friend. The debt I owe to him cannot easily be described. The least I can do to thank him for all his efforts is to dedicate this book to him. Jan P. Stronk

December 2009

Contents

Preface

VII

List of illustrations

ΧΗ

Transliteration

XIV

|

introduction

1

The author and his sources 11 Life and works of Ctesias ........ rn. 111 Life ...............4.24 lr

12 13

2

2 3

112 113

Works ............ ee ee Sources... .. nen

12 15

114 115 116

Reliability ................-... nn Thepoet ................-.-.^.^-.^4^.. Style 2... 2... 2.0... ees

31 36 43

117 Theindefinable ...............-..νιν 118 Ctesiasinthebalance . .......... cles Previous editions of Ctesias Persica. . . . 2... : >... Aimandmethod..........0.....2.2058008.

47 51 54 57

The main transmitters 2.1

Diodorus ofSicily .......... νιν νιν νιν νιν μιν 2.1.1 Lifeand works of Diodorus ........... s. 212 Method ........ 0.020002. eee 2.13 Manuscripts and relevant editions . ..........

60 60 67 71

2.2

Nicholas of Damascus. . ...... len 2.2.4 Lifeand works of Nicholas...............

73 73

2.2.2

83

2.3

Manuscripts and editions of Nicholas’ Historiae

Plutarch of Chaeronea

2.3.1 2.3.2

...

2...

2:

om

....

nern.

Life and works of Plutarch . . . : 2». 2 2 2 ren nn Manuscripts and editions of Plutarch's works, notably the Artaxerxes

85

85

XII

Contents

2.4

25 3

Photius of Constantinople . .......... enn 2.4.1 Life and works of Photius ............... 2.4.2 Manuscripts and editions of Photius’ Lexicon and Bibliotheca . .............. rre Conclusion ............. ee

107 107 146 148

Accounting for the text 31

Theproem

3.2

Books I-lil: The history of Assyria . . .. 2 2222er. 3.2.1 Fragments related with fragment 1b. . . . . . . .. |. 3.2.2 Fragments not related with fragment 1b. ........ Books IV-VI: The history of Media. .’. . 22 2 222er. Books VII-XXIII: The history of Persia... ..........

153 159 165 166 171

3.41 3.4.2

Books VII-XI: Cyrus... . 2 2 oe. Books Xil-Xlll: Cambyses, the Magus, Darius !, and Xerxes... 2 onen

171

Books XIV-XVIE Artaxerxes] . . 2222-2000. Book XVIII: Xerxes Il, Secyndianus (=Sogdianus), and Darius H Ochus ............ llle Books XIX-XX: Start of the reign of Artaxerxes Il. . . Books XXI—XXIII: Sequel to the rule of Artaxerxes Il. Finalremarks ............-. lle Various remarks on Persia. .......... ss E

179

3.8 3.4

3.4.3 3.4.4 3.4.5 3.4.6 3.4.7

...............

eel

153

178

181 182 189 191

li

Fragments of Ctesias of Cnidus' Persica

1 2

Book |: Proem Books I-Ili: The history of Assyria

200 202

3

Books IV-Vi: The history of Media

270

4

Books VII-XXIII: The history of Persia

|

290

Appendices Bibliography Concordance of fragments Indices _ General index. Index locorum

. ......

397 405 eee

rn

.. $n 2 eee ee ee ... 000 ...

411 416

List of illustrations Plate 1, p. XVI:

P.Oxy. 2330 (Ctesias’ Persica), Courtesy Imaging Papyri Pro-

Fig. 1, p.4:

ject, Oxford and Egypt Exploration Society. Some features of Cnidus, O by Wellem Verlag (C. Binder) 2009.

Fig. 2, p. 7: Fig. 3, p. 18:

Western Asia Minor, O by Wellem Verlag (C. Binder) 2009. Some of the main features of the palace of Persepolis, after:

Fig. 4, p.22: p.

Schmidt 1953, fig. 21. Archives and libraries in the Ancient Near East, 1500- 1000

Fig. 5, p. 23:

BC, from: Pedersén 1998, plan1. Archives and libraries in the Ancient Near East, 1000-300 BC, from: Pedersén 1998, plan 61.

Fig. 6, p. .24: 24:

The Behistun-inscription, lines 1-8, after: Schmitt 1991, 49.

Fig. 7, p. 112:

*Abbisid rulers between 750 and 861, after: Gutas 1998.

Fig. 8, p. 117:

The Byzantine Empire, © by Wellem Verlag (C. Binder) 2009.

Transliteration The following standards of transliteration Greek and Arabic have been used:

Aa-Aa|Zi-Zz

AA-LI

In=Pp

Bß=Bb

| Hn=E-e

Mu=Mm | Po=Rr:|

ry=Gg

!90=-Thth

| 6 o-Phph X x=Chch

| Nv=Nn_

|Xog-Ss

| V iz Psps

Aö=-Dd/|Tı=li

SE=Xx

Tr-Tt

| QwW=O-o

Ee=Ee

Oo-Oo

|Yo-Uu

| Kx=Kk

In the transliteration of Arabic words and proper names I have generally used the standard system of transliteration in most German-language Arabist scholarship. Of some letters or signs the pronunciation may offer some problems: t B d $

thasin»othink: jasin»jar thasin thar« shasin»shout«

“

strong guttural consonant emphatic French r, as in the first letter of »ramener«

aspirated glottal stop -

long vowel

As for Greek or Byzantine authors, I have used the Latinized versions of their

names if no familiar English renderings were present: for Roman writers, too, I have primarily used their anglicized names and, if not present, their proper names. Regarding the spelling Niniveh or Nineveh, both of which one encoun-

ters in (English) literature, I have hesitated quite some time: finally the fact that the OCD prefers Nineveh was the deciding factor to favour this spelling. In other cases as well the preferred spelling in the OCD has served as a guideline. Abbreviations

Apart from the abbreviations indicated in the bibliography, I use throughout the book for the Greek authors and their works the abbreviations used in the

Transliteration

XV

LSJ, xvi-xxxviii and for Roman writers those of the OLD, ix-xx. The titles of Plutarch's Moralia are according to the database of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae.

As for the abbreviations of journals, I essentially use the system of L'année philologique, with some minor additions: JCfS stands for Journal of Cuneiform Studies.

XVI

Ctesias’ Persian History

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p yr

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Ctesias’ Persica Plate 1: The Oxyrhynchus Papyrus (P.Oxy 2330):

| Introduction

1

The author and his sources 11

Life and works of Ctesias

»Among the Greeks there are many stories about the Persians, and are not true, 1, Ctesias, Ctesiarchus’ son, of Cnidus will be the first the Greeks about the complete history of the Persians and their kings, redecessors the Assyrians and the Medes, based both on their written

not a few to inform and their evidence

and their oral information as well as on my own observations during seventeen years of occupation at the court.« Such may, in Greek, have been the opening lines of the Persica, a history of Persia in 23 books by Ctesias of Cnidus,' one

of the most enigmatic works from the first half of the fourth century BC. It is a work on which many modern writers have an opinion, generally a negative one (cf. , e.g., Gardiner-Garden 1987, 2 and note 7; also infra), though in fact no

one has read as much as a quarter of a page in modern print written by Ctesias himself. Apart from some 29 narrow lines written on a worn papyrus from the second century AD (P.Oxy. 2330, sadly lost for some time,” but recovered by R.. Coles in 1978 and now (again) housed in the Papyrology Rooms of Sackler Library at Oxford), we have not much more authentic material written by Ctesias.?

Demetrius identifies the text in P.Oxy. 2330 as part of Ctesias’ Persica in a passage in On Style 212—4. Demetrius writes about repetition in order to make a greater impression. Subsequently he describes the situation and then quotes the relevant sentence as written by Ctesias: ᾿Εγὼ μὲν σὲ ἔσωσα, καὶ ob μὲν OU

ἐμὲ ἐσώθης ... These same words we also find on the papyrus, lines 7-8 (cf. infra II, F. 8b). Though Giangrande argues that the fragment should be attributed to a later writer, Lobel and Roberts (the first publishers of this papyrus: I

Cf. for this suggestion Ctesias' remarks as quoted by Phot. Bib]. [72] 36a1 and 42b11, as well as the remark at D.S. II.xxxii.4. Cf. also Wilamowitz 1912, 98.

R.A. Coles, Location-list of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri, London 1974 describes it as follows: »not found (March 1974).« Fortunately there now exists a photograph of this fragment as well (cf. www.papyrology.ox.ac.uk, s.1.), so a new collation is possible: it was made by R. Giannattasio Andria, 2003, 15—18. For this edition I also collated the text myself. V. Plate I and

Chapter III, E. 8b. Cf. also Jacoby, FGrH, IIIC, app. crit., p. 453, who at that time still had to consider the papyrus lost without a photo being present to check the text. There are also some other sentences preserved in Demetrius, On Style, 215—216. Cf. also infra.

G. Giangrande, »On an Alleged Fragment of Ctesias, QUCC 23 (1976) 31—46.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

3

19545), Jacoby (FGrH, 1958), Biltcliffe (1969) and especially Bigwood (1986: though the papyrus had been recovered by that time, she still believed it to be lost) have argued convincingly that the fragment contains part of the Median history by Ctesias. Everything else we nowadays call »Ctesias« is, in fact, an adaptation or a summary of his writing by a third party, be it Diodorus of Sicily, Nicholas of Damascus, Photius, Plutarch or one of the minor transmitters of

(parts of) Ctesias' story, each writing with his (or her) private objectives.? If we define »fragment« as »piece of a non transmitted text« and I strongly adhere to Kannicht’s definition,” we have, up to now, probably only a few proper frag-

ments of Ctesias’ Persica: P. Oxy. 2330 as well as some sentences in Demetrius’ On Style (cf. note 3; v. et infra). Everything else that is considered to be part of Ctesias’ Persíca is, in fact, only an interpretation and/or adaptation —or

at best

an unbiased and reliable quotation or epitome—by a third party (cf. also Lenfant 2004, cxc and note 784). 11.1

Life

Ctesias was the son of Ctesiarchus?, from a family of physicians at Cnidus, a

city in Caria of Dorian origin claiming descent from Sparta (cf. Hdt. 1.174 and VII.99) and an important centre of medical knowledge and training (cf. Kollesch 1989, 11 sqq.).? Cnidus (at present uninhabited) is situated on the westernmost tip of a peninsula known as Regadiye at Cape Tekir (Tekir Burnu). It commands at least two protected harbours of which the (a?) western one is nowadays largely blocked by silting of the entrance (cf. figures 1, p. 4 and 2, 5

E. Lobel and C. Roberts, 2330.

Ctesias, Persica, in: The Oxyrhynchus Papyri, vol.

XXII,

London 1954, pp. 81-84. 6

On Reception within Antiquity: v. Lorna Hardwick, Reception Studies, Oxford 2003, 12-31

and R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship from the Beginnings to the End of the Hellenistic Age, Oxford 1968. See also infra, p. 35-36, p. 54. 7

Cf. for this definition R. Kannicht, »TrGF V Euripides in Most 1997, 67. The problem of the

narrow definition by E. Bowie, The Theognidea: a step towards a collection of fragments, in Most 1997, 53 ([a fragment is] »a text of at least one letter, and in no case forming a complete

work, cited by a speaker or writer in the knowledge that it constitutes only a part of a longer work, whether oral or literary, the adjacent parts of which are not accessible to the speaker

or writer«), is that it excludes original parts of works discovered e.g. on papyrus. 8

Or Ctesiochus: both names are mentioned, the last one, e.g., by Lucian in the Introduction [1.3] of his Verae Historiae (according to Georgiadou and Larmour 1998, 54 the way Ctesias’ name and origin is presented here »with its comical alliteration« was meant to ridicule him); cf. also Suda x, 2521; Jacoby 1922, 2032.

9

Apart from Cnidus in Caria there existed also a Cnidus on Cyprus. According to Tzetzes (H. 1.87 L. [Kiesling: 847) Ctesias came from Cyprian Cnidus: cf. K. Nikolau, »Knidos, Cyprus«, in: Stillwell 1976, 459.

4

1 The author and his sources Tekir Bumu___

>

Acropolis

Temple of Aphrodite Euploia Trireme-harbour (Str. XiV.ii.15)

YY

V ~

Ancient moles

(Str. XIVil.15) z “2 et

Deveboynu

} "i

(>

Modem moles

-

0

250

500

meters

e Wellem

Verlag

Figure 1: Some features of Cnidus

p. 7)? The city boasts ancient origin, going back to at least the Late Helladic Period: on a Linear B tablet from Pylus (PY Ab 189) 21 women originating from Cnidus (ki-ni-di-ja = Κνίδιαι), with their 12 girls and 10 boys, are mentioned as slaves (on other tablets of this series feature many mainly female captives (la-wi-ai-ai

ληυϊάδας δὲ γυναῖκας: Hom. Il.

X X.193) from other cities,

regions, or islands of Asia Minor and the East Aegean basin). In the late classical period it was, among other things, famous for its (circular) temple of Aphrodite Euploia (the city's main deity, who also adorned the coins from the city"): from c. 360 it contained a statue of Aphrodite by Praxiteles.^ According to το M. Gibbons/M. Gibbons, The discoveries of Lord Charlemont«, Archaeology Ireland, Summer 2006, 30—35, esp. 33—4, argue there are reasons to assume the existence of as many as three

harbours.

11

One of Aphrodite’s three main manifestations, apart from Aphrodite Ourania (or Acraea: cf. Pausanias 1.1.3) and Aphrodite Pandemus or Doritis (ibidem), was Aphrodite Euploia (cf. A.

Furtwängler, »Aphrodite, in W.H. Roscher (ed.), Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, vol. 1 (Leipzig 1884-90), 390-419: 402). In the late classical period that manifestation was Cnidus’ main deity and also adorned its coins (i.a. on a silver tetrad-

12

rachme, c. 400 BC: B.V. Head, British Museum Catalogue of Greek Coins: Caria (London 1897), Pl. 14.6—8). According to Pausanias 1.1.3 there were three temples for Aphrodite in Cnidus. After the people of the Roman Empire (officially) had been converted to Christianity, the statue was probably transported to Constantinople (Bean 1971, 146 disbelieves this story) in the very early years of the 5th century AD and there placed in the Palace of Lausus, which

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

$

Bean and Cook," Cnidus was in the days of Ctesias situated near the site of

the modern village of Datga.™ Recently this view has been questioned by Demand, who states that the site of Cnidus before the late classical period basically was the same as it is today. From the archaeological evidence gathered by various expeditions, i.a. conducted in collaboration with the British Museum, it

appears likely that the present site of Cnidus was constructed c. 360 BC (or shortly before), on the rectangular layout scheme conceived by Hippodamus

of Miletus. Why this (re?)construction had to take place is hard to read from the evidence gathered so far.'5 Other cases of site reconstruction, e.g., after an earthquake, a devastation, or economic necessity, are known, like in the case

of Priene. There, however, the inhabitants appear to have chosen to resettle in more or less familiar surroundings: a resettling of»Cnidus: from the region of Datga to its present location would certainly not fit such a criterion. Though

I am no longer able to check Demand’s archaeological and geographical arguments locally, J think her view with respect to literary evidence for the moment

looks sufficiently convincing." housed a celebrated collection of antique sculpture (cf. Bassett 2000). In AD 475 a huge fire spread from the bazaar of the bronze-smiths over Constantinople. The fire destroyed not only the Basilica, the public library founded by Emperor Julian Apostata, reducing some 120,000 books to ashes, but also the Palace of Lausus. Thus the Aphrodite of Cnidus was lost, as were, i.a., the Hera of Samos and the Athena of Lindos (for a discussion on Lausus

and bis collection, see Bassett 2000). 13

G.E. Bean and J.M. Cook, The Cnidia«, ABSA 47 (1952) 173—185, 202-212; also Bean

14

The city is said to have been moved towards its present location c. 330 BC (Freely states that the Cnidians abandoned their original city c. 360 BC). It was famous also for its wine. Cf., e.g., Bean 1971, 135—152; E. Akurgal, Civilisations et sites antiques de Turquie, Istanbul 1986,

1971, 135—152.

p. 273-4; J. Freely, Classical Turkey, London 1990, 100-1. 15

Cnidus is situated on or close by the rim of a tectonic plate, the Aegean Sea plate, which is

wedged in between three major tectonic plates, viz. the Eurasian plate, the Anatolian plate,

and the African plate, moving to and fro, and interacting with each other and with the Aegean Sea plate. The subduction of the African plate beneath the Aegean Sea plate is linked with the South Aegean volcanic arc, which causes several seismic effects, as the interaction of the

16

Aegean Sea plate and the Anatolian plate does, e.g. in the region of Chios and nearby Cnidus. Nancy Demand, Did Knidos Really Move? The Literary and Epigraphical Evidence, CA 8 (1989), pp. 224-237. To me her view is the more compelling because of three reasons (all of them as a matter of fact mentioned by Bean 1971, 148 sq): 1. the site of Old Cniduscwas not abandoned after the founding of New Cnidus: but remained inhabited and was apparently known as Stadia (cf., however, Pliny, NH, V.xxix.104: »est in promunturia Cnidos libera,

Triopia, dein Pegusa et Stadia appellata«: in no way he connects Stadia and Cnidus); 2. no ancient writer and/or geographer (notably Strabo and Pliny) ever mentions an »Old: Cnidus next to a»Newc one; 3. at the site of» New Cnidus: excavations so far revealed material dating

from the 7th century BC to the 7th century AD (when the city was abandoned), while most material at »Old Cnidus originates from the Hellenistic period. As Bean (1971, 148) puts it: »Most of the finds at Old Cnidus have been made at considerable depth, and there is no

doubt that the archaic and classical remains are deeply buried.« To assess the validity of this

6

1 The author and his sources

Ctesias’ family, like others in Cnidus, traced its descent back to Asclepius (cf. Kollesch 1989, 13, 20). Ctesias testifies that he had been the personal physician of King Artaxerxes (II Mnemon) of Persia (cf. Suda x, 2521), but served the latter's wife, children and especially his mother, Queen Parysatis, as well (Plu. Art.

XVIII; Phot. Bibl. [72] 44230 sqq. and various testimonia: Lenfant 2004, 2—4). In this respect Ctesias fits into a tradition starting with Democedes, the personal physician of King Darius I," who also cured this king's mother, Queen Atossa (cf. Hdt. III.129-33; cf. also Eck 1990, 410 and n. 8). Before the Persian kings employed Greek doctors, they were taken care of by Egyptian physicians. Of several of them we even know the name. On a statue, presently in the Vatican Museum (inv. no. 196), Udjahorresnet presents himself, i.a. , as the chief physician of Cambyses II and Darius I (cf. Brosius 2000, 15—7). Others we know the name of include Semtutefnakht and Wn-nefer (Onnophris).'? According to Huyse (op. cit., 144) it was logical that the Persian kings employed first Egyptian and later Greek physicians, because Persian medicine was not so much practical

as magical-religious in character (cf. also Stronk 2004/5, 104—6). Both from his own testimonies (Plu. Art. XL3, XIII.3, XIV.1) and Xenophon's (X. An. I.viii.26, probably based upon Ctesias’ own story: cf. , e.g., Plu.

Art. XIHI.4; also: Bassett 1998, 10) we know that Ctesias served among Artaxerxes’ staff during the battle of Cunaxa. His presence during this battle has tempted some, at least as early as Johannes Tzetzes in the XIIth century AD (H. 1.87 L. [Kiesling: 84]), to suppose that Ctesias had been taken prisoner during this campaign, though this is not likely. In the first place Ctesias testifies that he was present with Artaxerxes during the whole battle and that he tended the wound of Artaxerxes inflicted by Cyrus the Younger. It is hardly conceivable that someone who had just been taken prisoner would be allowed to tend the (enemy) king's wound, no matter how excellent a physician he might have been. Secondly, Ctesias is said to have served 17 years at the Persian court (D.S.

II.xxxii.4) and we can deduce from Ctesias' own writings as they are transmitted to us, that he left Persia for his homeland in 398/7'? at the latest. argument it should be remarked that the, supposed, site of ancient: Cnidus is located on a

stretch of »Schwemmland« (alluvial land) bordeting the Gulf of Datga. »New« Cnidus was built on mesozoic limestone:

cf.

E. Blumenthal, Die altgriechischen Siedlungskolonisation im

17

Mittelmeerraum unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Südküste Kleinasiens, Tübingen 1963, 98—9. I will deal with Cnidus more thoroughly in the commentary. Cf. Ph. Huyse, »Die persische Medizin«, AncSoc 21 (1990) 141 sqq. , 142.

18

Cf. 6. Burkard, » Medizin und Politik: Altägyptische Heilkunst am persischen Hof, Studien

zur Altágyptischen Kultur [SAK] 21 (1994) 33—57. το

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All three, two, and one digit dates in the text are BC, unless stated otherwise. Centuries BC

will further be indicated in Arabic numerals, centuries AD in Roman.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

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8

1 The author and his sources

The length of his stay at the court has caused some dispute. Müller (1844, 2) proposes to read 7 years instead of 17, though the manuscripts here are not corrupt.? If this assumption is accepted, the most probable occasion of Ctesias’

capture would have been in 404, during the visit Cyrus the Younger paid to his dying father: during this trip Cyrus was accompanied by some 300 Greek mercenaries (cf. X. An. Li.2; Brown 1978, 3). Essential in this line of thought

is the assumption that Ctesias was taken prisoner: according to Occam's razor that is what we have to accept, though it also might be conceivable that he vol-

untarily entered into Persian service. If that is so, Diodorus (II.xxxii.4) made as mistake by the association with Cyrus the Younger. In that case we would not have a clue regarding the truth of Ctesias' (alleged) statement. The second best occasion, still assuming Müller is right, would have been around the time

of the battle of Aegospotami in 405 (cf. Brown 1978, 2). Jacoby thinks that Ctesias exaggerates his stay at the court: »Eine derartige Übertreibung seines Aufenthalts im Lande, auf den er seine Überlegenheit allen Vorgängern gegenüber gründete, ist K[tesias] sehr wohl zuzutrauen« (Jacoby 1922, 2033, 2035).** Brown (1978, 5, 7 sqq.), however, suggests that Ctesias be taken on his word: he was taken prisoner, he stayed 17 years at the court and he

left for Greece in 398/7. In that case Ctesias may have been taken prisoner during the revolt of Pissuthnes, satrap of Ionia, about 415/4 (cf. Ctes. Pers. = FGrH No. 688, F. 15 $53) or, more likely, that of his son Amorges in 414/3 (cf. Th. VIILv.5, xxviii.3; cf. also Stronk 2004/5, 102-4).

We know that Pissuthnes

employed Greek mercenaries and that physicians regularly accompanied armies. It is also known that Amorges employed a mercenary force, probably supported by Athens (cf. , e.g., Andocides, On the Peace, 29; also: Kagan 1987, 29-30;

Cawkwell 1997, 15, 77; Hornblower 1996, 209): Thucydides is remarkably silent on the relations between Amorges and Athens (Cawkwell 1997, 15; Hornblower 1991, 180, 343, 348; Hornblower 1996, 423). Many of these soldiers

were »from the Peloponnese« (cf. Th. VIILv.5), probably to a large extent from Arcadia, as the »Xanthian stele« seems to suggest (Meiggs/Lewis 1988, no. 93.10; Tod 1946, no. 93). Presence of mercenaries from Asia Minor is not ex-

pressly mentioned or denied. Fields suggests that, after Amorges' defeat, many

of his mercenaries promptly found employment in the enemy camp, sc. both 20 Miiller’s suggestion that Ctesias remained only for a period of seven years at the Persian court is accepted by Drews 1973, 103 and Bigwood 1978, 19. 21 It is even alleged that Ctesias has never been in Persia at all, but that his whole work is a literary fiction. Though there may be arguments to support this view, like the absence of

Milto/Aspasia, the captured Phocaean concubine of Cyrus the Younger (Ael.

VH XII.1;

Plu. Art. XXVL3-—5; Plu. Per. XXIV.7), in the (excerpted) remains of Ctesias’ account,

I think conclusive evidence corroborating this theory is still lacking: only if and until such evidence appears, method demands to accept the facts as outlined by, e.g. , Brown 1978, 7 sqq. and Eck 1990.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

the Spartan army (cf. , e.g., Th.

9

VIILxxviii.3—5) and that led by King Darius

II's loyal satrap Tissaphernes (cf. Fields 2001, 120). Moreover, counting back from 413 to 397 inclusive, one comes to a total of 17 years. The solution looks very attractive and is less vulnerable to Occam's razor.” There is, moreover, an additional suggestion 1 would like to make regarding the discussion on Ctesias' stay in Persian service, one that is more or less

in line with Eck's observation (v. infra). I am prepared to accept that Ctesias only served seven years as a physician at the Persian royal court (sc. from 405 to 398 inclusive), attending Artaxerxes II and his family. However, this does not exclude the possibility that he worked during a period of seventeen years, as physician (probably) or whatever, at a Persian court, if not a royal then a satrapal one. Supposing Brown is right, one might go one step further: if Ctesias joined Amorges, he was at that time probably a reasonably experienced physician (at least past his apprenticeship), but not yet an established one? (for the educational system for the different types of physicians, cf. Krug 1993, esp. p. 190 sqq.). I believe that few, if any, established physicians would like to join a mer-

cenary force and certainly not one fighting the King of Kings (unless he was forced to do so). On the other hand, a military campaign could provide an opportunity for a young physician to acquire an enormous amount of experience and to win himself a reputation. This of course is speculation, but assuming that this view is correct it could mean that Ctesias was, at that time, about 20 years

old: this could argue for a birth year of Ctesias between 440 and 435 (Brown 22

Cf. for a short exegesis of this maxim (»pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate«, most often, by later writers, expressed as »entia non sunt multiplicanda praetor necessitatem«), e.g.,

B. Russell, History of Western Philosophy and its Connection with Political and Social Circumstances

from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, London 19612 (paperback edition), 462-3. Gilmore 1888, 1, suggests as date for Ctesias’ capture c. 417 BC. I believe this date to be too early.

23

Of course without assuming any similarity with modern medical practices. Cf. for a useful review of Greek medical practices, e.g., E.D. Phillips, Greek Medicine, London 1973 and

Krug 1993, Some Roman inscriptions indicate that there it was possible to reach the status of physician as early as by one's seventeenth or eighteenth: cf. M. Kleijwegt, Ancient Youth. The Ambiguity of Youth and the Absence of Adolescence in Greco- Roman Society, Amsterdam 1991 (diss. Leiden), 135—164; cf. also V. Nutton, ‘The Medical Meeting Place, in: Ph.J. van der Eijk,

H.FJ. Horstmanshoff, and P.H. Schrijvers (edd.), Ancient Medicine in its Socio- Cultural Context. Papers read at the Congress held at Leiden University 13—15 April 1992, Amsterdam

1995, 3—25,

pp.17-20. To my knowledge hard evidence for the age one could be regarded in Greece as δεμιουργός, ἀρχιτεκτονικός, or πεπαιδευμένος (the three main types of physicians) lacks. Though I have no evidence, I firmly believe Ctesias belonged to the last group, if only be-

cause of the apparent value attached to him. A papyrus from the late 3rd century contains a contract of apprenticeship in which one Sosicrates apprentices a certain Philon to a doctor

by the name of Theodotus for a period of six years to learn the art of healing, in return for a fee: P. Sattler, Griechische Papyrusurkunden und Ostraka der Heidelberger Papyrus-Sammlung, Heidelberg 1963, 12 no. 2 (215-3 BC).

IO

1 The author and his sources

1978, 10, suggests as year of birth of Ctesias 441; contra: Jacoby 1922, 2036,

who believes that year of birth and year of death can neither nearly nor approximately be estimated).

ὑπῆρξε, in the phrase used by Diodorus τοῖς μὲν

χρόνοις ὑπῆῤξε κατὰ τὴν Κύρου στρατείαν (II.xxxii.4), may be translated as »flourished«, it would support the estimated date of birth of Ctesias around 440,

assuming the age between 35 and 45 to be generally accepted as the prime of one's life. This assumption is also valid for the even clearer indication by Photius (Bibl. [72] 3687-9): Ἔκμασε δὲ ἐν τοῖς χρόνοις Κύρου. .... ἀδελφὸς Ἀρτοξέρξου ... ("The summit of his career was in the times of Cyrus ... the

brother of Artaxerxes .. .«). Like Brown, Eck assumes that Diodorus took Ctesias’ words correctly and that Ctesias started his medical career in Persian service about 415 (Eck 1990, 430—1).

He doubts, however, whether Ctesias actually figured in Pis-

suthnes' army in 414/3 (neither Brown nor Eck really investigates the possibility of connecting Ctesias to Amorges' activities). He thinks that Ctesias was already taken prisoner by Pissuthnes and taken to Sardis in 415. Later, after or as ἃ consequence of Pissuthnes' revolt, he (Ξ C.) was noticed by the new satrap of Sardis, Tissaphernes, and finally presented by the latter to King

Artaxerxes II** (Eck 1990, 432).

The timetable in Diodorus (II.xxxii.4) is

crucial: Κτησίας δὲ ὁ Κνίδιος τοῖς μὲν χρόνοις ὑπῆρξε κατὰ τὴν Κύρου στρατείαν ἐπὶ Ἀρταξέρξην τὸν ἀδελφόν, γενόμενος δ᾽ αἰχμάλωτος. καὶ διὰ τὴν ἰατρικὴν

ἐπιστήμην

διετέλεσε τιμώμενος

ἀναληφθεὶς

ὑπὸ

τοῦ βασιλέως.

ἑπτακαίδεκα

ἔτη

ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ (»Ctesias of Cnidus flourished [lived] when

Cyrus made his expedition against his brother Artaxerxes, having been made prisoner and because of his medical knowledge retained by the king, spent 17 years honoured by hima). Eck explains this as follows: »Ctésias de Cnide vécut à l'époque de l'expédition de Cyrus contre son frére Artaxerxes (401); prisonnier de guerre (415/4), puis attaché par le roi à son service pour ses connaissances médicales (404, Artaxerxés II), il passa dix-sept ans en Perse (415/4—398/7), honoré de ses faveurs (404—398/7)« (Eck 1990, 432). Fragment T7 a (= Phot. Bibl. [72] 44a33—4) suggests, however, that Ctesias predominantly attended Parysatis, the king's mother, and the king's children, and not the king himself,

a suggestion supported by Lenfant (2004, x, note 18). As already indicated, I believe Eck is largely right in his analysis, as is Brown, but against this I think Ctesias entered Persian service somewhat later than at the time of Pissuthnes. Ctesias' opportunity to escape occurred after c. 399. The passage as a whole, in which he describes the occurrences (cf. Phot. Bibl. [72] 44b20—43; also Plu. Art. XXI.1—4) is somewhat confusing and obscure (v. infra ad loc.). The context 24

In that case, it should be clear, we do not have the slightest clue to make any suggestion as to Cresias’ year of birth.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

II

involves a quarrel between King Euagoras of Salamis (Cyprus) and King Artaxerxes (possibly concerning the rivalry between Euagoras and his fellow king Anaxagoras,” perhaps because Euagoras and the Persian satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia advocated the creation of a Persian fleet to counter Spartan influence in the region, we just are not told).^ Both Conon and Ctesias served as intermedi-

aries between the two kings and Ctesias, moreover, as an intermediary between Conon and Artaxerxes as well. In the meantime Sparta sent an embassy to the Great King, but this delegation was detained.

The king wrote letters, both to

Conon and to the Spartans, and entrusted their delivery to Ctesias. Conon was made an admiral of the new Persian fleet next to or subordinate to Pharnabazus (a command that culminated in the defeat of the Spartan fleet at [of all places] Cnidus in 394:

cf., e.g., Bengtson 1970, 207).

Ctesias continued his voyage

to Sparta, probably by way of Rhodes—where he was accused by the Spartans but acquitted (the manuscript tradition regarding this passage is, however, not clear at all [cf. Lenfant 2004, xxi—ii])—-and possibly Cnidus, and from there

back to Cnidus. Ctesias’ year of death can not be established with certainty: it is, however, possible to fix a terminus post quem for the Persica, i.e. 393/2: Photius’ epitome

(Phot. Bibl. [72] 44b17) refers to the situation of Clearchus' grave in Babylon in that year.?” It means that Ctesias must have been active until at least that year. 25

»In Cyprus were nine important cities; beside them existed small towns which were dependent on the nine cities. Each of these cities was ruled by a king, but they were, all of them,

subject to the King of the Persians« (D.S. XVI.xlii.4; cf. also Pliny NH V.xxxv.

129). As

Euagoras was the king of the most important city in Cyprus at that moment, Anaxagoras may well have been king of one of the eight other cities. It is certainly incorrect to speak about Anaxagoras as »the King of Cyprus«. I suppose that either Photius used the particle mistakenly, or that during the process of tradition and copying a change has occurred, e.g., from Ἀναξαγόρᾳ τινὶ Κυπρίων βασιλεῖ (one Anaxagoras, a king in Cyprus or Anaxagoras

some king in Cyprus) into τῷ Κυπρίων βασιλεῖ ([Anaxagoras] the king of Cyprus), a fault

unknowingly copied by Photius. For a convenient review of Euagoras’ career, v. EG. Maier,

CAH2, vol. VI, pp. 312-317.

26

King Euagoras of Salamis (Cyprus) came to power c. 411. He was considered to be an Ath-

enophile and was honoured by this city in 407, possibly because of corn-supply. In spite of his pro-Athenian views Euagoras succeeded in maintaining a reasonably good working relationship with the Achaemenids. Cf. for a more detailed biography infra, Chapter V: Commentary, ad loc. 27

Eck 1990, 434 postulates as terminus ante quem for the Persica 385. He argues as follows: Xe-

nophon knew the Persica of Ctesias and used it in the Anabasis; according to E. Delebecque (Essai sur la vie de Xénophon, Paris 1957, 204—5) the Anabasis was written about 385; the terminus ante quem for che Persica should, therefore, be 385. By a similar method Lenfant 2004,

xxiii—iv arrives at a date of 390. I have argued elsewhere (Stronk 1995, 8) that the date of the final composition of the Anabasis may have been as late as 370 or even slightly later. I think, therefore, that the terminus ante quem for the Persica may safely be postponed some years.

I2

1 The author and his sources

1.1.2

Works

Having returned to Cnidus, Ctesias started his career as a writer.

Apart from

some works on his trade, which have not survived, he wrote a Geography in three books (called alternately Περίοδος, Περίπλους, or Περιήγησις of which

some fragments survive: Jacoby, FGrH, No. 688 FF. 55—60). He also wrote an Indica in one book, which has survived in an epitome by Photius and various

scattered fragments (Jacoby, FGrH No. 688 FF. 45a-52). Another work, the Περὶ τῶν κατὰ τὴν ᾿Ασίαν φόρων (On taxes in Asia), is mentioned twice by Athenaeus (11.674, X.442B). This was either a separate work or perhaps a digression of the Persica. Jacoby (1921, 2039) thinks the first option the better one, as Lenfant (2004, xxv, clviii—ix) appears to do (see:

Jacoby, FGrH, No.

688 FE. 53-4).

Considering a fair degree of symmetry

between Herodotus’ description of Persian history and Ctesias’ Persica (as frequently occurs, v. infra), one might suppose that this text was somehow part of the Persica (cf. Hdt. III. 89-97). Also Gilmore (1888, 3) appears to suggest such a solution, stating that: »He may have treated [of] this subject in connexion with the organization of the provinces under Dareius I«. However, since one of the topics discussed by Athenaeus, sc. II.67A, refers to Persia, the other to

India, I think we have to consider the Taxes as a separate work (cf. also GardinerGarden 1987, 1). Since, moreover, the reigns of Cambyses, the Magus, Darius

I and Xerxes are treated by Ctesias in just two books (sce. books XII and XIII), I doubt whether a discussion on Darius' tax reforms would have fitted in the space available. It is, therefore, rather misleading that Jacoby inserted a single line from this fragment of Athenaeus as Ε 38 of the Persica, while the complete fragment is given as Ε 53, belonging to Taxes in Asia: in the compilation of this edition this fragment shall be omitted.

Ctesias’ magnum opus was, of course, his Persica in 23 books (cf., e.g., Suda x, 2521). A Περὶ ποταμῶν (On Rivers) and a Περὶ ὀρῶν (On Mountains), though attributed to Ctesias are most probably not his (Jacoby 1922, 2036), though Lenfant is less sure (Lenfant 2004, clxi). The first six books of the Persica are devoted to a history ofthe Assyri-

ans? the ᾿Ασσυριακά (three books), and the Medes, the Μηδικά (also three 28

29

Two rather insignificant fragments have been preserved: one through Oribasius on hellebore (cf. Jacoby, FGrH No. 688 F. 68) and one through Galen (idem, F. 67). The historical facts are that the hegemony over Mesopotamia and parts of Western Asia was held alternately by Babylonians and Assyrians (whom Greek ancient historians did or could

not distinguish from each other) from the third millennium until the destruction of Nineveh by Babylonians and Medes in 612. The Median sovereignty passed to the Persians under Cyrus in the year 549, and Babylon was taken by Cyrus in 538. The beginnings of Babylonians and Assyrians and of their Sumerian and Elamite predecessors are still beyond the range of history (Forsdyke 1956, 70).

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

I3

books). The remaining seventeen books were the Περσικά proper. Of these books, VII-XI were devoted to Cyrus the Great.

Books XII and XIII dealt

with the reigns of Cambyses, the Magus, Darius I, and Xerxes. The forty-odd years rule of Artaxerxes I was discussed in books XIV-XVII. Book XVIII informed.the reader about Xerxes H, Secyndianus (= Sogdianus), and Darius II.

The first eight years of the reign of King Artaxerxes II, finally, were described in books

XIX -XXIII.?? The main line of the story of the Persíca has, as far as can

be deduced, come to us through four authors: Diodorus of Sicily, Nicholas of Damascus, Photius of Constantinople, and Plutarch of Chaeronea. Diodorus' book II.1-34 is believed?! to have been largely based upon (parts of) the first six books of the Persica,}? as are some of Nicholas’ fragments.? The epitome of Photius covers books VII-XXIII, while Nicholas of Damascus appears to link (almost completely) both excerpts into a more or less coherent total.?* Plutarch's Life of Artaxerxes is an important source for books XIX—-XXIII. Possibly these books VII-X XIII were also used, directly or indirectly (e.g. through Ephorus), by Diodorus for parts of his book XIV (v. infra, Chapter III). I think Jacoby (1921, 2041) is right to assume that the Assyriaca and the Medica were an integral part of the Persica and that the three parts should be treated as a single work. Adding these parts, Ctesias could demonstrate the continuity of rule and civilization in this part of the world as well as its greater antiquity than the Greek. The parallels Jacoby mentions with Herodotus and Hellanicus are for me convincing, the more so because of Diodorus' observa-

tions (cf. note 30) and the introduction of Photius’ epitome (cf. FGrH, T. 8). Why Photius did not start his excerpt with book I is unclear. It appears that 30

Describing events of the year 398 (D.S. XIV.xliv-x!vi) Diodorus Siculus remarks: Κτησίας δ᾽

ὁ συγγραφεὺς

τὴν τῶν

Περσικῶν

ἱστορίαν εἰς τοῦτον τὸν ἐνιαυτὸν κατέστροφεν.

ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ Νίνου καὶ Σεμιράμεως (»Ctesias the historian ended the history of the Persians with this year, starting with Ninus and Semiramis«): D.S. XIV.xlvi.6. Cf. for the term συγγραφεὺς Ghistorian:) infra, section 1.1.4.

31

There may, however, be some doubts whether Diodorus did not use other sources as well

32

under the name of»Ctesiasc cf. infra 2.1.1 sub C, p. 64—66. lt may, perhaps, even be based on the first five books of the Persica, as the sixth has been

thought to deal largely with the ascent of Cyrus the Great in the context of the Median court: Gardiner-Garden 1987, 1; Lenfant, on the other hand starts the story of Cyrus’ ascent with the beginning of book VII: Lenfant 2004, 93; I will in this study, wherever possible,

33 34

follow her arrangement of the Persica. Jacoby FGrH No. 90 F 1-5» Lenfant 2004, FR 1lö-e, 6b, 8c: cf.

the final remark of

note 34, infra. Jacoby FGrH No. 90 F 66 = Lenfant 2004, E. 8d. Unfortunately also the Historiae, in 144 books, of Nicholas of Damascus are almost entirely lost. Fragments have survived, partly in

the Excerpta historica iussu Imperatoris Constantini Porphyrogeniti Confecta, edd. U.Ph. Boissevain, C. de Boor, Th. Buettner-Wobst, Berlin 1903—1910, 4 vols. in 5. The surviving fragments

of Nicholas’ Historiae are collected in Jacoby's FGrH No. 90 F. 1-103. Cf. for Nicholas and the discussion regarding his use of Ctesias’ work infra ad chapter II, section 2.1.4.

I4

t The author and his sources

some, e.g. in Strabo's days, may have considered the Assyríaca (and the Medica?) and the Persica separate works.

Strabo states (XIV.ii.15):

ἐντεῦθεν

δὲ καὶ

Κτησίας ὁ ἰατρεύσας μὲν ᾿Αρταξέρξην. συγγράψας δὲ τὰ ᾿Ασσυρικὰ καὶ τὰ

Περσικὰ (»thence [sc. Cnidus, JPS] also came Ctesias, who having served Arta-

xerxes as physician, wrote the Assyrica and the Persica). Jacoby supposes (Jacoby 1922, 2040) that in Photius' copy of Ctesias’ Persica the first six books were (therefore?) missing. Photius’ own remark in the introduction to the epitome of the Persica suggests otherwise. A reason Photius may have started with the 7th book is that, as he would have known, the first six books had already been

summarized by Diodorus and he did not find it necessary to do this again.?° Another reason for not giving an extract of the first six books may have been that the events described therein belonged to the »mythological periods of Greeks and non-Greeks« (Phot. Bibl. [70] 35a14—5). Schamp (1987, 154) suggests that books I-VI were considered as a hors d’euvre by Photius and therefore needed no real attention in his epitome (cf. also infra, 1.2 note 84). Photius’ own words show

perfectly clear that he was fully aware of the size and contents of the complete Persica (c£. infra p. 141 sqq.). The analysis of a number of the epitomes collected in Photius' Bibliotheca (cf. infra p. 141 sqq.) will show, moreover, that it was, for no obvious reason, not uncommon for Photius to disregard sizeable parts of a work

he was epitomizing. Though such lacunae may sometimes be inconvenient for modern scholars, they do not appear to allow us to draw any conclusion whatsoever regarding Photius' motives and/or his opinion regarding the importance

of that particular section of the work reviewed. I agree with Jacoby (1922, 2034—2036) that Ctesias, once he left Persia, did not return there again. Though Jacoby's statement that Ctesias »bediente ... sich einer nicht gerade fairen List« (Jacoby 1922, 2034) cannot be maintained,

it seems obvious to me that no one, having had so much trouble in reaching his homeland, would dream of returning to his cage, gilded as it may have been. However, Eck (1990, 425—6) suggests that Ctesias may have, for a short time, returned to Persia, but also he believes that Ctesias left Persia definitely in 398/7.57 35

Photius knew Diodorus’ history, as appears not only from his remark regarding Herodotus’

36

Histories (Phot. Bibl. [60] 19b38), but also from the extracts he made of the work of Diodorus (Phot. Bibl. [70] 3521-39 and [244] 377225 —393b5). Plu. Art. XXI.1-4, on which Jacoby's statement is based, does not inform us who the source

was of the information that Ctesias would have opened the letter and added a postscript to what Conon had written. Since we can not judge how reliable Plutarch's source (Dinon?: Brown 1978, 17) was, it is, in my opinion, impossible to state a priori that Ctesias was a fraud.

Infra, p. 99 sqq. 1 will more elaborately deal with the attitude of Plutarch towards Ctesias. 37

Eck 1990, 428. As it scems Kónig 1972, 26 and n. 13, more explicitly 119, is the only one

who believes that Ctesias returned to Persia and remained there at least some years more, i.a. for a journey to India; contra: Lenfant 2004, xxii—iii.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

1$

Jacoby's remark reminds us of the beginning of the career of Ctesias as a diplomat in 399. Though he may have served as such already earlier, during the negotiations following the battle of Cunaxa (Plutarch rejects this possibility: Plu.

Art.

XIIL.5—6;

cf.

also X. An.

11.1.7; Bassett 1998, 26), his role then,

if indeed any, seems to have been only secondary (cf. Eck 1990, 420—1). His role in the negotiations starting in 399 may have been much more important:

Ctesias at least presents his own role as a significant one. One of the purposes of the talks appears to have been to bring the former Athenian admiral Conon,

who was at the time residing with Euagoras at Cyprian Salamis, to the Persian side.?? By joining forces they could try to nullify the Spartan threat to the Pax Achaemenia, an attempt that ended more or less successfully (cf., e.g., Stronk

1990—1, 130 sqq. ; also Dillery 1995, 3). His role as intermediary, finally, made it possible for Ctesias to return to his native home. We are left in the dark about whether or not this return to Greece happened with Artaxerxes' consent. 1.1.3

Sources

A. Written sources

Ctesias himself is said to have claimed that he had access to the royal archives. These are called βασιλικαὶ ἀναγραφαί, basilikai anagraphai, (D.S. II.xxii.5) or βασιλικαὶ διφθεραί, basilikai diphtherai (D.S. YI.xxxii.4). Ctesias’ statement has been contested, e.g., by Rettig.?? Jacoby (1922, 2047-2049) bluntly remarks that the sources Ctesias claimed to have used did not even exist: the histor-

ical value of Ctesias is, in his opinion, »gleich Null« even »im Vergleich zu historisch so wenig hochstehenden Büchern, wie Xenophons Anabasis und Hellenika« (Jacoby 1922, 2047). The solution presented by Macan and supported by Melchert (1996, 181) is quite ambiguous: »If... Ktesias had Persian documents and evidence before him, then so much the worse for such evidence«:

either Ctesias is a charlatan or the sources are no good. A different view is advocated by Bichler (2007, 229—245). He believes that the Persica is a kind of pastiche of Herodotus' Historiae. Bichler wonders whether the Persica »nicht eher um eine bewusste Provokation bzw. eine

wohlüberlegte satirische Verformung zum Amüsement eines verständigen Publikums handeln?« (Bichler 2007, 232). His target would, as already stated, have 38

We may suppose that the initiative for the action started with Conon. According to Photius

this was the sequence of events: Conon wrote a letter to Ctesias, Ctesias consequently spoke with Artaxerxes and sent him a letter as well; then Artaxerxes responded to Conon, and

finally Pharnabazus subsequently made Conon an admiral of the Persian fleet. The version by Plutarch also suggests that Conon took the first step. 39

H.Ch.M. Rettig, Ctesiae Cnidi vita cum appendice de libris quos Ctesias composuisse fertur, Hannover

1827, 16; cf. also Eck 1990, 411 and n. 12.

16

1 The author and his sources

mainly been the Historiae: the résumé of Photius’ epitome may provide an indication therefore: σχεδὸν ἐν ἅπασιν ἀντικείμενα Ἡροδότῳ ἱστορῶν (»nearly in everything relating the opposite of Herodotus«:

Phot. Bibl.

[72] 35b40-1).

Bichler concludes regarding Ctesias’ work » dass hier ein SpaBvogel am Werke war, der einem kundigen Publikum einen regelrechten Herodot-Verriss aufti-

schen wollte« (Bichler 2007, 232). He illustrates his view with an examination

of the rule of four kings (Cyrus, Cambyses and the Magus, Darius, and Xerxes) as well as the rise to power of one of them (Cyrus).

As regards the sources, it

implies that Ctesias did not (have to) use Persian archives as his source but only Greek literature. Though Bichler's views are provocative and challenging at least—and may, probably, contain more than a grain of truth (see infra p. 29)—1 find them hard to reconcile with Ctesias’ story of Persian history for the period

from Artaxerxes I to Artaxerxes II, viz. books XIV—XXIII. Are they a pastiche of another author? If so, which one? Is it pure fiction? How can we prove that? Untila satisfactory answer to these questions emerges I think it the safest Way to treat the Persica as a whole and to treat it seriously. In so doing, we will not be able to pass over a number of the fundamental questions on Ctesias that

have been raised by Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg in her 1987a paper. During

the process of discussing various aspects of Ctesias in general, and the Persica in particular, we shall try to at least discuss most of them. The statement that Ctesias consulted the royal archives should raise a number of questions. The first and foremost of these questions is, of course, whether

Persian royal records or archives existed at all and, if so, what their nature was. As indicated above, the first question was, in the outlined context, largely irrelevant to Bichler and has been answered in the negative by, e.g., Rettig and Jacoby. Also Briant, in his monumental Histoire del 'empire perse, seems very careful: »Mais, de telles archives historiques perses, nous n'avons nul autre témoignage — mis à part une tradition tardive et suspecte, qui attribuait leur destruction à Al-

exandre« (Briant 1996, 14). The key word here is »telles«: Briant does not deny

the existence of archives at Persian courts, but doubts whether their content could have been the basis for Ctesias’ stories.” However, absence of proof does not equal proof of absence. There is, moreover, what I would like to call at least

circumstantial evidence for the existence of quite extensive and diverse Persian

royal records. All these scholars appear to neglect at least some Old Testament 40

Earlier Briant has stated that Ctesias obtained the information from the basilikai diphterai only orally (P. Briant, Rois, tríbuts et paysans. Études sur les formations tributaires du Moyen-Orient ancien, Paris 1982, p. 497), but that he used this information preparing two works now (almost completely) lost sc. on the roads and on the revenues of the Empire. The Persica would have been almost completely based on oral information. In my opinion these methods do not necessarily exclude each other (cf. infra). Lenfant 2004, xxxvi-xxxix also doubts the existence

of these Persian royal archives.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

17

references: primarily Esther 6:1 and 10:2 (in Hebrew) and secondarily Ezra 4:15 and Ezra 5:2—6:2 (written in Aramaic). Esther 6:1 runs as follows: »On that night the king?' could not sleep; and he gave orders to bring the book of memorable deeds, the chronicles (in the Septuagint:

γράμματα μνημόσυνα τῶν ἡμερῶν, and they were read before the king«. In Hebrew that is:

mms "3377 niat ee (sefer ha-zikhronot divre ha-yamim).

In this clause the Hebrew words »zikhronot

is mirrored in the Aramaicodokhranayyac of Ezra 4:15, »the book of the recollections« (v. infra). The expression »divre ha-yamim: (literally »the words of the

days«) means >the events or deeds from the past« and is generally translated as ^history« or schronicles«. It is the Hebrew phrase designed for the Book of Chronicles, and the phrase also frequently occurs in the Book of Kings, e.g.

1 Kings

14:29. Esther 10:2 says: »And all the acts of his power and of his might, and the full account of the high honour of Mordecai, to which the king advanced

him, are they not written ín the Book of the Chronicles of the kings of Media and Persia?« (Septuagint: γέγραπται ἐν βιβλίῳ βασιλέων Περσῶν xoi Μήδων μνημόσυνον. For the biblios basileón Persón kai Médón we read in Hebrew:

εἰς

ona ^35 ὙΦ ΟΦ mmn 737 »2075y (al-sefer divre ha-yamim le-malkhe maday u-faras), meaning sin the book of the words of the days (= chronicles) of the kings of the Medes and Persians. ‘The Septuagint does not translate divre ha-yamim closely, unlike in Esther 6:1, but

glosses the phrase as εἰς μνημόσυνον, for memory's sake« Reviewing this material, we have clear documentary evidence that some kind of extensive »royal 41

In the RSV text the name of this king is given as Ahasuerus. It is believed that Ahasucrus is identical with King Xerxes.

In the Septuagint, however, the name of this king is Artaxer-

xes. In the Hebrew text of Esther the king's name is given as Achashverosh (7 aleph, cheth, shin, vav, resh, shin), generally considered to be the Hebrew representation of the Persian Khshayarsha (= Xerxes), and that the specific king intended was Xerxes I (486-465). The Septuagint probably originated in the 3rd/2nd century (somewhere between 250 and 130: cf. Stegmüller 1975, 160). Since knowledge on the Persian kings was already greatly diminishing by that time (to disappear almost completely somewhat later: cf., e.g., the mistakes of

Flavius Josephus on Persian kings: AJ XI.vi.1), Achashverosh was then identified as Artaxerxes, to be more specific Artaxerxes II Mnemon (404—359). Like all protestant Bibles, the RSV of the Bible is translated directly from the Hebrew original. We find therefore in the

RSV »Ahasuerus«. As ἃ matter of fact the historical background of the book Esther is highly complex and fascinating: cf., e.g., the Encyclopaedia Judaica, Vol. XIV, Jerusalem 1975, cols. 1051-2.

1 The author and his sources

18

archivesc with some kind of narrative content may have existed within the Persian Empire. Gato of All Countnes

Fortifications

6

i

u

Fortification tablets

Hall of 100 Columns

Room 33. Treasury tablets

Apadana

Palace of King Darius

Palace of King Xerxes

Figure 3: Some of the main features of the palace of Persepolis

Some of the institutions and/or situations appear to be confirmed by remarks from the book of Ezra. Ezra 4:15 states (in the translation of the Revised Stand-

ard Version): »... that search may be made in the book of the records of your

[sc. King Artaxerxes I, JPS] fathers. You will find in the book of records and learn that this city [sc. Jerusalem, JPS] is a rebellious city, ...« In the Septuagint-

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

I9

text* the phrase »in the book of records of your fathers« is rendered as follows: ἐν βιβλίῳ ὑπομνηματισμοῦ τῶν πατέρων ooo. The Aramaic version says:

JUN UI SDT

Be

(bi-sfar dokhranayya di avahatakh), meaning: »in the book of recollections of your fathers). Ezra 5:2—6:2 relates the story of the permission for the reconstruction of the temple at Jerusalem. The Persian governor of »the province Beyond the River« asked the Jews to provide this permission. They referred to a decree by Cyrus the Great, which was subsequently searched for »in the house of archives where the documents were stored« (Septuagint: ἐν ταῖς βιβλιοθήκαις.

ὅπου ἣ γάζα κεῖται) in Babylon. This is a translation of the Aramaic

KIT NTA MINI (be-vet sifrayya di ginzayya), meaning »in the house of books** where the treasures are). The intended record of Cyrus’ decree (a ὑπόμνημοι) was ultimately found at Agbatana (Ecbatana) in Media. The problem in using this text (and the reason I used it as secondary evidence), though it supports the suggestion evoked by the related passages of the book Esther regarding the narrative character of at least part of the Persian archives—and their very existence—, is that the transmission of the book of Ezra is far from established. The text appears

4

t2

to be post-Achaemenid and it cannot be excluded that in this text a Ptolemaic or Seleucid archival practice was projected back to the Achaemenid period.*° Septuaginta, id est Vetus Testamentum graece iuxta LXX interpretes, ed. A. Ralılfs, Stuttgart 1979.

Since there may be some discussion concerning the faithfulness of the Septuagint to the Aramaic and Hebrew original (cf. Stegmiiller 1975, 160) 1 have chosen to present both original 43

and Septuagint next to the translation of the Revised Standard Version. The book of recollections: is generally translated as »book of records, schronicles«, »annals«,

smemoirs. peres«, 44

The Bible de Jerusalem translates: >... des recherches dans les Mémoriaux de tes

This expression means: The house from where books (i.e. letters) were sent throughout the

entire empire.« Intended is the office of the king, where also the archive is kept [cf Esther 3:12-3, 8:9—10] (M. Zar-Kevod, Ezra and Nehemiah, [in Hebrew], Jerusalem 1994, p. 39, Da’ath Migra-series). 45

Itis, by the way, noteworthy that both the Greek and the Aramaic, and, for that matter, the King James Bible, refer to treasures (ginzayya is the plural of genaz, treasure, and the Greek gaza is stated to be a derivative of this word), while the RSV mentions, instead, documents as the contents of the library: the context offers no clue for the deviant translation in the RSV. Though not present in Kent 1953 the root *ganza probably is Old Persian (communication Robert M. Whiting, Helsinki), meaning streasury«. The RSV calls the city where the record

was found Ecbatana: throughout this book, however, I will follow Ctesias’ spelling of the name of this city: Agbatana. 46

Cf. Edelman 2005, 151—208, summary: 201-6; also Wright 2007 appears to assume a substantial formation-period for the, interrelated, books Ezra and Nehemiah. Van der Toorn

20

] The author and his sources

However, as it is, correspondence between the King of Kings and the provinces was a vital link in the administration of the Persian Empire.

It is

demonstrated, e.g., by a series of tablets from Persepolis known as the Q-series, written in Elamite and known as the »travel-texts« a number of letters written in Imperial Aramaic (including the correspondence of Arsham, the Persian

satrap of Egypt), and a translation of the Behistun-inscription of Darius and found in Elephantine (Egypt). Another indication is the existence and maintenance of the»Royal Road« between Sardis and Susa and described by Herodotus (V.52-4; cf. also Dusinberre 2003, 2-3 and note 9 for an archive at Sardis). That the Persian kings communicated by letter is mentioned by Hellanicus (FGrH No. 4, F. 178). The practice of government by letter: appears to be confirmed in the Old Testament. Nehemiah 2:7—9 runs as follows: »(7) And I

said to the king, »Ifit pleases the king, let letters be given me to the governors of the province Beyond the River that they may let me pass through until I come to Judah; (8) and a letter to Asaph, the keeper of the king's forest, that he may give me timber to make beams for the gates of the fortress of the temple, and

for the wall of the city, and for the house which I shall occupy.« And the king granted me what I asked, for the good hand of my God was upon me. (9) Then I came to the governors of the province Beyond the River, and gave them the king's letters ...«

Such a system of government, if it is to be somehow efficient and consistent, only can survive for a prolonged time if there is at least an elementary archival system, run by an able chancery. That the Persians maintained such systems may be shown, e. g., by the > Treasury Tablets” and the »Persepolis Fortification Tabletsc? (cf. fig. 3, p. 18). Moreover, such a practice would fit in with customs at other 2007, 248—251 clearly distinguishes between the work done by Ezra, sc. the constitution of the Pentateuch, which Van der Toorn dates to c. 450, and the work Ezra, which he dates some

two centuries later.

47

Except for a small number of tablets probably carried off and dropped by plundering Macedonians, the rest of these tablets were found in Room 33 of the Persepolis Palace, probably a 2-level room, measuring about 10 x 18.50 meters: supposedly this room housed the archives

of the regional treasury of Parsa. In the same room a collection of 200-odd bullae with seal impressions, possibly fastened to containers of various goods or Aramaic papyri, were found. Cf. E.F. Schmidt, Persepolis, vol. I: Structures, Reliefs, Inscriptions, Chicago 1953, pp. 173-5

(Publications of the Oriental Institute 68) and by the same author Persepolis, vol. II: Contents of the Treasury and Other Discoveries, Chicago 1957, pp. 4-7 [Publications of the Oriental Institute 69]. C£. also G.G. Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, Chicago 1948 (Publications of the Oriental Institute 65) and R.A. Bowman, Aramaic Ritual Texts from Persepolis, Chicago

1970 (Publications of the Oriental Institute 91). 48

"The Persepolis Fortification Tablets consist of thousands (some 8,000 of which some 2,000 are published) of clay tablets, almost all written in Elamite, recovered from the fortification

wall at the NE corner of the terrace. They date to the years 509—494 (during the reign of Darius I) and deal with food commodities. C£. R.T. Hallock, Persepolis Fortification Tablets,

Chicago 1969 [Publications of the Oriental Institute 92].

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

2I

courts throughout the ancient Near East during a long time (including Egypt, as is shown by the [much earlier] El Amarna-archive: cf. figs. 4 and 5) and even of trade-houses or businessmen like the Muratü family.” All such collections of texts, controlled by the state or state-officials, could, in some way or

another, be styled as basilikai apographai or basilikai diphtherai. The latter term, however, seems to be more suited to documents written on perishable material

such as hides or papyrus, i.e. documents written in Imperial Aramaic. Posner puts it as follows: »No remnants of the central [my italics, JPS] archives of the Persian kings have been discovered to date, but we can be sure that archival arrangements at the highest level of government were more than adequate. Royal archival establishments existed in Babylon and Agbatana and probably also in Susa and Persepolis, the other royal residences«.?^ I think that both the Old Testament evidence and the general practice of efficient rule make it virtually certain that there were—at least at a certain moment——various and likely extensive archives at the Persian courts, and that these, as especially the fragments mentioned from the book of Esther appear to testify, are likely also to contain

items of more or less narrative nature. The next question that directly emerges—once the problem concerning Persian archives is basically solved—is whether Ctesias really had access to these sources. This question may be split into two parts, i.e. physical access and intel-

lectual access. As to the first part of the question we are not able to say anything at all with any certainty. All we have are Ctesias’ words that he had access to them and we are obliged to believe him. It certainly is possible that, during years of service at the Persian court, Ctesias would have met with people that could provide him access to (parts of) what we might call, one way or another, royal archives«. The second part of the question is even more challenging. I am inclined to assume that Ctesias understood and spoke Persian for two reasons.?' First, he 49

Thisarchive, found at Nippur, consists of about 800 tablets, primarily ranging from Artaxer-

xes I year 10 to Darius II year 7. The family's main (official) occupation seems to have been land-management for absentee landowners, i.e. Persian nobles or the state. Cf. G. Cardascía, Les archives des Murasü. Une famille d'hommes d'affaires babyloniens à l'époque perse (455—403 av. J.-C.), Paris 1951 and M. Stolper, Entrepreneurs and Empire.

The Murasü Archive, the Murat

Firm and Persian Rule in Babylonia, Leiden 1985. so

E. Posner, Archives in the Ancient World, Cambridge, MA 1972, p. 125; cf. also O. Pedersén, Archives and Libraries in the Ancient Near East 1500—300 B.C., Bethesda, MD 1998. V. also Eck, Diodore, II, xxii-xxiv. Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1980, 246-7 argues that archival work

in the Achaemenid Empire only started with the reforms by Darius I: due to the nomadic origin of the Persians (before 550 BC), record-keeping was not a natural activity for them (my

italics, JPS). I think her view is very intriguing and challenging and it might prove the key to reconcile (part of) Ctesias’ claims and the facts as they are. 51

If he did so, he was not unique.

We are told, e.g., that it took the Athenian Themistocles

one year to learn to speak Persian sufficiently Auently to be able to communicate with the

1 The author and his sources

22 Sapinuwa Mattia ^ Tapigga

Ancient Near East ca. 1500-1000 BC

NL

^. Site with Archive or Library

NN!

Horbe „Tell Fear

Alalakh Azu artEmar )

ausu laTa Abyad

Tell om 8

Kar-Tukulti-

V A.

Fray

©

N stri Ninurta ı

Katlimmu

Assur

Admannu

Cea

appa

urruhann

nme

ἊΝ

mn

LETS EGYPT

Y Akhetaten

Figure 4: Archives and libraries in the Ancient Near East, 1500—1000 BC

seems to suggest as much (cf. Plu. Art. XIII.4 about Ctesias as supposed interpreter). Second, for a physician to the royal family it was at least convenient

(and probably also safer) to be able to communicate directly with his patients. But could he write it, could he read it? And if so, what could he read? Akka-

dian, Elamite, Old-Persian, Imperial Aramaic, to name only a few of the languages used in the Achaemenid Empire—and no doubt present also in the royal archives (still assuming that these did exist)? We have no final answers to those questions, though we may have our suspicions. In this respect one of the most

revealing, if not essential, pieces of information is provided by a passage of Diodorus of Sicily (D.S. IT.xxii.5 = my F. *0b). It reads as follows: ... τοιαῦτ᾽ ἐν ταῖς βασιλικαῖς ἀναγραφαῖς ἱστορεῖσθαί φασινot βάρβαροι (»the barbarians

say that such is the account ... that is given in the royal records. Who precisely those barbarians are remains in the dark. They probably were Ctesias’ informers, be it of Persian or Babylonian origin.

One fact, however, clearly

emerges: for the use of royal archives regarding this period (sc. the »Assyrian« history) Ctesias obviously depended on hearsay. One of the key texts to the history of the Achaemenids is the Behistun (Bisitun)-inscription. In it King Darius describes, in Old-Persian, Elamite, and Persian King (probably Artaxerxes though also the name of Xerxes is mentioned: Plu. Them. XXVIL1 touches upon this problem) without an interpreter: Plu. Them. XXIX.5.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

23 Ancient Near East ca. 1000-300 BC ^

Site with Archive or Library

^a Silianiba Nineveties

mgur-Enlij

7 | ALPHABETIC ge

zj

4 Samaria

] „Jerusalem

+ Elephantine

Figure 5: Archives and libraries in the Ancient Near East, 1000-300 BC

Akkadian, his rise to power and subsequent exploits, having killed Gaumata

(the false Smerdis) and declared himself to be the rightful Achaemenid (cf. Kent 1953, 116 sqq. , Brosius 2000, 28—40; see also fig. 6, p. 24). From (parts of) this

text copies are known in Akkadian from Babylon and in Aramaic (on papyrus) from Elephantine. The actual inscription at Behistun/Bisitun is not easily accessible. In Kent’s words (Kent 1953, 107): »[it] is inscribed on the face ofa gorge in the cliff rising on the left-hand side of the main caravan route from Baghdad to Teheran, about

65 miles before reaching Hamadan (part of this city covers ancient Agbatana). Here, at the height of about 225 feet (obliquely 322 feet) above the road, the last 100 feet being steep and difficult rock-climbing—the final portion being in part cut smooth by Darius' orders to prevent access by vandals— sculptures and accompanying inscriptions are engraved in the natural rock.« Therefore, Ctesias might have been excused not to have read this text carved some 66 m. above people's heads: in fact it would have been extremely remarkable if he had, since it appears that reading was not the primary goal of the engraving of the text (cf. Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1999, 91).

However,

to state, as Ctesias appears to do

(according to Diodorus II.xiii.1—2) that it was an inscription to be made at Behistun/Bisitun either never taken the trouble to verify what version is correct) or (2) that he was not able

Queen Semiramis who ordered seems to indicate that he has (1) he wrote (assuming Diodorus’ to check his source in any way.

24

1 The author and his sources

Notably since copies of the Behistun/Bisitun inscription were present throughout the Empire in several languages, the latter conclusion would be damning for Ctesias’ claim and would make it vain and void. That is unless, of course,

another solution might explain Ctesias’ version, which »... appears to be one of the most absurd statements ever seen in history« (Phillips 1968, 163). Phonemic Transcription:

§ 1 (I 1-3): adam Därayavaus, χξαγαθίγα vazrka, xSaya@iya xiayaQiyanàm, χξᾶγαOiya Pärsaj, x$ayaGiya dahyünäm, Vittaspahyá puga, Ramahyà παρᾶ, Haxämanisiya.

$2 (13-6): 0áti Därayavaus x8ayaGiya: mand pita Vistáspa, Vistaspahyà pita RSama, Rsämahyä

pitä Ariyaramna, Ariyäramnahyä pita Cispi$ CiSpäj$ pita Haxä-

manis. $3( 6-8): Gàtiy Darayavaus x3äßiya: avahyarädi vayam Haxämanisiyä Ganhya-

mahi, hacä paruviyata ämätä amahi, hacä paruviyata haya amäxam yaßiyä aha.

taumä x3ä-

Translation: $1(I1-3) I (am) Darius, the great king, king of kings, king of Persia, king of countries, the son of Hystaspes, the grandson of Arsames, an Achaemenid.

$2 (13-6): Proclaims Darius, the king: My father (is) Hystaspes; the father of Hystaspes (is) Arsames; the father of Arsames (was) Ariaramnes; the father of Ariaramnes (was) T(e)ispes; the father of T(e)ispes (was) Achaemenes. $3 (16-8): Proclaims Darius, the king: For that reason are we are called Achaemenids; from ancient times we are noblemen; from ancient times our family has been kings.

Figure 6: The Behistun-inscription, lines 1-8 The first clue for such a solution is found in the lemma written by Weissbach

in the Real-Encyclopädie (RE, II.2, 1896, 2769-79, s.v. »Bagistane). He states that at the foot of the mountain, some twenty-five to thirty metres below the monument of Darius, there is a great smoothed place on the rock where the

remains of a Greek inscription can be discerned, partly removed and by an Arab-Persian inscription. The Greek inscription in its turn had seven giant, crudely done and pre-Achaemenid, sculptures of human According to Weissbach they were—in his days—still recognizable,

replaced replaced figures. though

only by close inspection (cf. also my remarks in the commentary, part II, ad

F. 1b $$ xiii.1—2). The second clue comes from the Assyrian King Sargon II, who describes

a place that should probably be identified as Behistun/Bisitun (cf. Herzfeld 1968, 14). In Sargon II’s Letter to Assur recounting the events of the eighth

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

campaign: (see D.D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylon, Vol.

2$

2,

Histories and Mysteries of Man, London 1989, 73—99) he i.a. describes his activities at this place, which he calls Mount

Simirria« during a campaign against

Urartu in 714. According to Phillips (1968, 167) it is quite conceivable that Simirria, the later form of the name of the Kassite (the region in which Behistun is situated) goddess Shimaliya, was still current during the Persian period and that this name Simirria may have suggested »Semiramis« to Ctesias, or its Aramaic equivalent, >Shamiram«, to speakers of that language. As a matter of fact it seems that the literary Semiramis (Ctesias is not the only author who describes her: cf., e.g., Eilers 1971 and especially Pettinato

1988, 305—8) has taken character and power not only from mortal models (allegedly the Assyrian Queen Sammuramat and Naqi'a, the Aramaean wife of Sennacherib) but of the immortal Ishtar/Inanna as well (Phillips 1968, 163—4;

Gardiner-Garden 1987, 5). Phillips adds that: »from the Babylonian and Assyrian evidence we gather that the goddess of the [Kassite, JPS] country and particularly of Behistun was Shimaliya, who had much in common with the Babylonian Ishtar, and could, like her, have been later absorbed into the figure of Queen Semiramis« (Phillips 1968, 167). So Ctesias’ story may have had a historical, pre-Achaemenid basis—and whether this belief was correct or not does, then, need not to really concern us—after all. It may, though, be doubted

that it was recorded, one way or another, in Achaemenid royal archives. It appears, however, to have been preserved in the oral tradition, more likely than not predominantly in Babylonia.

Having added this complication we have still to cope with another problem.

Most of Ctesias’ Persian story appears to be set at the court, cradle of

many intrigues linked with the interests of the persons involved. It seems to be partly based upon rumours, court-gossip, stories by hearsay, and other, more formal expressions of oral history. Actually, Ctesias himself admits, according to Photius, that he heard certain facts directly from Parysatis (cf. Phot.

Bibl.

[72] 42b11—13). Though the importance of such information may, in itself, be

enormous, and the power of informal forces working at courts can hardly be overestimated, there is a major problem. Such situations may generate saucy stories, but they are historically hardly (if at all) verifiable since they are not likely to be documented. The practice is that court intrigues keep the court moving, and may even determine the course of history, without the origin of

the action being documented. Only some successful results of pulling strings may become visible in time and become reflected in historical sources. In this

respect Ctesias’ work is revealing and down to earth. But even if Ctesias were telling the truth all the time, we would not be able to prove (or disprove) it.

26

1 The author and his sources

B. Oral sources

An extra complication in the assessment of Ctesias’ value for Persian history is the fact that his subject, and, perhaps, his intended audience, determined his

scope and indeed—as far as we can see—the nature of his work. Persian history, like many Oriental histories (cf. , e.g., for a convenient summary Van de Mieroop 1999, passim), was focused on the vicissitudes and successes of indi-

vidual kings or heroes: »it expressed the life of societies deliberating and acting with clear purposes under the leadership of far-seeing men« (Momigliano 1990, 17). Moreover, the nature of the tradition differs considerably from the sources modern historians generally prefer, but that is not uncommon.

In 1961 Jan Vansina published his pioneering work De la tradition orale. Essai de méthode historique (Tervuren). Vansina defines oral tradition as follows: »Oral traditions consist of all verbal testimonies which are reported statements concerning the past« (1965, 19-20). Typical for orally transmitted stories are the frequent occurrence of formulae: such as epitheta, [quasi]-statistics, reiterations,

recurrent theines (like meetings, dreams, sending or receiving messengers, the abandoning of a [royal] child etc.) and the compression of time (telescoping). Due to the latter phenomenon occurrences frequently appear to be set in a kind of two-dimensional frame, in which the factor »depth: (or rather: differentiation in time) has almost disappeared, if not altogether. Another problem, as Oswyn Murray observes in the final chapter (Herodotus and Oral History Reconsidered, pp. 314-325) in Luraghi 2001, is that the memories handed over in narratives tend to serve certain needs of later generations. In the process the narratives are likely to be coloured or distorted (cf. Lenfant 1996). In essence this means that oral traditions cannot be trusted a priori, unless they are corroborated by external, e.g. archaeological, evidence (cf. Miller 1980, 45). Though Vansina's research was essentially focused on Africa, other research has shown that his views, provided the necessary restrictions are observed, are

also applicable elsewhere. The research of M. Parry in former Yugoslavia shows

that identical phenomena are discernible there. From A.B. Lord's The Singer

of Tales, which is based upon Parry’s work, it also becomes evident that the

singers do have a certain measure of freedom to enlarge or shorten their songs, to mix themes, even to borrow themes from other songs: the overall theme is determined, but the versions may considerably vary. Itisa phenomenon we also

meet in Byzantine literature, e.g. in the Ὠδή τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ Ἀνδρονίκου (Song

of the Son of Andronicus), originally also almost exclusively orally transmitted. 52

In 1965 translated as Oral History. A Study in Historical Methodology (London), in 1985 claborated by Oral "Tradition as History (London/Nairobi).

1.1 However,

in writing,

Life and works of Ctesias

too, it occurs in many

27

PA

versions with numerous variants.

In one variant we even meet father and son as brothers*}. We

also meet similar changes in the Iranian stories about Iskender or

Sekander (Alexander the Great) and Därä (Darius III), where the adversaries occasionally become relatives, incidentally even brothers, and Iskender, holding the dying Persian king, promises to avenge Därä.‘* These stories are told even today, with variations (some dating from antiquity, some from the Sasanian period, others from Islamic times), being preserved in works like the mediaeval Shah-nama (Story of the [Persian] Kings). This work was written down by Abü al-Qasim Man-sür ben Hasan (probably better known as al-Firdawsi [-"the Paradisal: AD 941—1020]), in almost 60,000 verse lines during a period of thirty years, and finished c. AD 1010; it also exists in a prose version.‘ This work relates a more or less cohesive history of the Iranian Empire, from the cre-

ation ofthe world down to the Arab conquest in and after AD 636. The tale was based upon orally transmitted stories within the Dehgan-class, whose members might refresh their memories by records written in Pahlavi (Middle Persian) or Arabic (cf. Levy 1977, xvi). The epic compiled by al-Firdawsi shows many familiar elements, like descriptions of combat zones, heroes, armies, exaggerations, wise messages, letters, speeches, and the combination of love stories with the elements of heroes' tales. Unfortunately, the different Achaemenid rulers as such, described in the Shäh-näina, are, apart from Däräb and Dara (both Darius III), not really recognizable.

Another of the originally oral stories that still serves as inspiration for modern storytellers in Iran is the Iskander-náma, written down by Abi Muhammad Ilyäs ben Yüsuf Nizämi Gangawi (best known as Nizami or Nezàmi: AD 1141-1209), one of the parts of his main work, the Chamse (the Five | Treasures]). The Iskander-náma is a story of Alexander the Great in two parts, the first

more epic, the other more didactic in character. The work shows many similarities with the Shah-nama, but also distinct differences. Here, too, the Persian

king Därä appears next to Iskander, whose wisdom is generally praised, this

time as Iskender's half-brother. In various manuscripts slightly different versions occur: Darius, captured and imprisoned, is dying but still manages to 53

Cf.

44

C£. P. Briant, Darius dans l'ombre d' Alexandre, Paris 2002, 443—521. In some stories Dara is also called Darab, whether or not with long vowels. The edition of this work I used is Levy 1977. In 2006 a new translation was pub-

55

H.G. Beck, Geschichte der byzantinischen Volksliteratur, München

(HdA, XII, 2, 3).

1971, 2 Vols., 60 sqq.

lished: D. Davis (transl.): Abolqasem Ferdowsi, Shalinameh: The Persian Book of Kings, New

York/Washington DC. At least for the purpose of this book and this chapter the differences $6

between these editions are insignificant. Nizami, Das Alexanderbuch = Iskandername, übertragen aus dem Persischen, Nachwort und g Anmerkungen von J.C. Bürgel, Zürich 1991.

28

1 The author and his sources

pledge empire and his daughter's hand to his successor. Darius is presented by Alexander with a mantle as sign of both Alexander's superiority and his respect for Darius. In all versions the conqueror appears, however, more unequivocally than in the Shäh-näma, as the legitimate successor and ruler of the empire. To

what extent Nizami's account has been coloured by the fact that he, Azeri by birth, enjoyed court patronage by the Eldigüzids, who ruled Azerbaijan from 1150 on behalf of the Seljuks (and highly stimulated Persian literature), cannot be established. Like the mediaeval world of Western Europe, the Oriental world was, and

to a large extent still is, mainly an oral world. The traditions were—and still are—- kept in stories and »in the international society of the Persian Empire people told stories on an international scale« (Momigliano 1990, 15). Even today, at campsites, in hans, in coffeehouses, or on the market-place in villages

and even bigger cities throughout the Orient, the storyteller is welcome, both as entertainer and bringer of news, probably very much like the troubadours in

mediaeval Western Europe. The storyteller's style is even reflected in the broadcasted specches delivered by modern politicians, like those of the former Iraqi

president Saddam Hussein during the third Gulf War of 2003, after an U.S.

American helicopter had crashed in a farmer's field. The elements of »formulae« and »telescoping: which are so characteristic for oral use we also encounter in various other, now mostly literary, works with an

origin as oral story, whether it be the Alf Layla wa Layla (One Thousand Nights and One Night, also known as the stories of Shahrazad [Scheherazade]); the Iliad; the Odyssey; the Beowulf (cf. Lord 2000, 198—202 with references); the Hildebrandlied; the Chanson de Roland; or the Song of Kosovo Polje. As for the Iliad and

the Odyssey, their formulaic properties are generally well known, especially the cpitheta ornantia, the frequent use of numbers, the meetings (especially in the Iliad), the repetitive structure, and the love stories (especially in the Odyssey: c£. also Lord 2000, 141—197). Also in the other works mentioned above such formulaic structures are a re-

curring event. The origins of the Hildebrandlied go back to the period of the migration of Germanic peoples, c. AD 400—600. It is the story of Hildebrand, returning after about 30 years of absence (due to service to his lord Theodorich in the latter's war against the Huns). He, and his army, finally returning home from Ravenna in flight for Odoacer, is met by an army led by his own son,

Hadubrand.

In spite of Hildebrand's efforts a fight ensues. The written ver-

sion,” from c. AD 830—840, contains many Latin texts from the Bible and is

directed at the conversion to Christianity of the population of lower Germany. 57

Cf. D. Armbruster u. H. Broszinski (edd.), Das Hildebrandlied: Faksimile der Kasseler Hands-

chrift/mit einer Einführung von Hartmut Broszinski, Kassel 1985.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

29

It does not tell the end of the story: some later Nordic oral versions do, and they relate that the father kills the son. However, not all versions agree. Among the formulaic elements in this epic tale are: the long service abroad, the return of the hero, the lack of recognition, the fatal duel.

The origin of the Chanson de Roland lies in two-odd lines written by Charlemagne's biographer Eginhard (Einhard) on a rearguard action somewhere in the Pyrenean woods in AD 778.55 These lines themselves seem hardly adequate—or even relevant—to explain the tremendous importance of the

Chanson de Roland in mediaeval society and art as early as the late IXth century, less than a century after the occurrences sung of. At the same time this

very chanson de geste mirrors in its consequent written versions the progress of time. In the best known version, the Ruolantes Liet, compiled by »Pfaffe Konrad:

c. 1170 and counting almost 10,000 lines, an ambush by some Basques is converted into a true crusade epic. It was the (final?) result of the combination of politically instigated motives to change the background of the events described and the very nature of men to embellish stories one had heard and wanted to pass on. Also in this story the formulaic elements used are clearly distinguishable: the hero resists peril, advice by friends and peers, the last stand, blowing the horn, return of the avenging king.” A comparable situation can be met in the epic on Kosovo Polje, which relates

how the Serbian state was defeated by the Ottomans in 1389.

It celebrates

Prince Lazar, Stephan Dushan, and Marko Kraljevic as national heroes.

Here

also occur some strange changes, intrinsic to orally transmitted traditions. The figure of Vul Brankovic is in some versions related as the heroic son-in-law of Prince Lazar, in other ones he is portrayed as a traitor to the Serbian cause. As

a matter of fact, Marko Kraljevic probably lived a century or so later than the occurrences which are sung of took place. As it is, even at the end of the X Xth century, the nationalistic sentiments evoked by the tale were still all too tangible. These played a significant part in the Balkan Wars of the 1990's, creating and adding new elements (i.a. fierce anti-Albanian and/or anti-Islamic sentiments) to a centuries-old story. However, not only the great deeds of important men settled into oral tradition. Occurrences of seemingly minor importance were also transmitted orally from generation to generation, if only because possessing a written account

could prove to be dangerous— some way or another. Davis demonstrated that a folk-verse sung and taught in West Cork (Ireland) correctly preserved the 58

C£., e.g., Early Lives of Charlemagne by Eginhard & the Monk of St. Gall; translated and edited by AJ. Grant (The Medieval Library, vol. 14), London 1926, or the edition in the Monumenta

59

It almost goes without saying that, e.g., the medievalist J.R.R. Tolkien applied similar ele-

Germaniae Historica, Scriptores rerum Germanicarum . . ., ed. ©. Holder-Egger, Hannover 1911.

ments in his fantasy-epic The Lord of the Rings, London 1954-55.

30

1 The author and his sources

knowledge how to convert the Roman calendar—the official Christian calendar—into the Insular lunar year at least until the mid-nineteenth century. In itself perhaps not a surprising feat, but that very Insular calendar had been

outlawed at the Synod of Whitby because of its »Pagan« origin in AD 664.5? All these examples, insignificant as some may appear, serve to illustrate the importance of oral transmission in different circumstances (especially in times and territories where literacy was less common than in the modern Western world), how oral transmission can serve different purposes, and how it can assume vari-

ous forms to convey its message.

In line with the situation outlined in the paragraphs above it is, therefore,

only natural that at least part of Iranian/Persian history, let alone that of its predecessors, was transmitted orally. In this respect it seems hard to avoid that

the nature of the tradition had at least some effect on the result of its reflection. We should, therefore, be ready to expect that the Persica shows traces of the oral origin of, at least part of, the stories related. As a matter of fact precisely that is, in so many words, reflected in Demetrius’ judgement on Ctesias (On Style, 213): Ὅπερ δὲ τῷ Κτησίᾳ ἐγκαλοῦσιν oc ἀδολεσχοτέρῳ διὰ τὰς

διλογίας, πολλαχῆ μὲν ἴσως ἐγκαλοῦσιν ὀρθῶς ... (/The charge of garrulity

often brought against Ctesias on the ground of his repetitions can perhaps in many passages be established«). The use of repetitions is one of the distinctive features of an (originally) orally transmitted text.

Apart from providing

mnemotechnical support, repetitions also provide the narrator with the possibility to create a certain tension, as also the example from My Fair Lady, quoted

on page v, demonstrates. While discussing the text in the commentary (part II) we will encounter many more instances of the oral origin, which occasionally

goes back to the times of the Assyrian kings (notably Sargon II), of much of Ctesias’ story. To blame Ctesias for the nature of his sources seems to be an inadequate

way to deal with him.

We might as well say that Ctesias preserved, or re-

flected, the spirit of the Orient better than Herodotus did, though Herodotus also (as Forsdyke 1956, 75 notices) primarily relied on what he heard (cf. also Evans 1991, 89—146; also Slings in: Bakker e.a. 2002). The truth is, however,

that their objectives were, to a large extent, different. Moreover, the taste of

their audience had also changed (cf. infra p. 42 sq.). Their works are, there-

fore, largely incomparable. Nevertheless, we will in the commentary on books VII-XIII of the Persica frequently compare it with Herodotus’ Histories, if only to show the striking differences and equally striking similarities ofthe traditions

both writers used. 60

B. Davis, ‘The Lunar Year of the Coligny Calendar as a Precedent for the Insular Lunar Years, Talanta 38-9 (2006/7) 9-34.

1.1 Life and works of Ctesias

3I

1.1.4 Reliability To complicate things even more, let us assume (not thinking of Bichler's ar-

guments as related above) that Ctesias intended to describe the facts he read,

heard, and saw truthfully. But then, how trustworthy is any witness? Is not every testímony coloured by one's background, perspective, point of view, abilities? Does not a witness often see what (s)he thinks, hopes, expects, or perhaps

sometimes even is expected, to see? Moreover, a witness is often not able, for whatever reason, to have a complete view of the occurrences. How does (s)he deal with that problem? To what extent do later events colour one's recollection? There are plenty of possibilities to discredit even the most apparently reliable and open witness, and quite often justly so." We, on the other hand, have no idea at all (or, at least, no certainty) about Ctesias’ intentions, no more than about the actual facts. First of all we should consider the fact that, in the perception of the Greeks, he

is writing things that are true. As Munn puts it: That which is alethes, »true< in Greek, is, etymologically, that which is »unforgettable«. That which has proved itself memorable, therefore, is aléthés.

Such a subjective construction of truth

gave first place to the test of time ... Critical scholarship about the past, among Greeks both before and after Thucydides, was less concerned with systematic criteria for separating the verifiable past from legend than it was with determining which legends deserved credence ... and which ones had been distorted« (Munn 2000, 15-6).

And, somewhat further:

»An event that had not passed

through the filters of communal telling and retelling could not be measured

by the standards of consensus. A reliable account of recent events depended upon the established wisdom and veracity of the source or informant« (Munn

2000, 16).

We have arrived at the point where we should ask ourselves how Ctesias’ information—in our perception—should be valued. For some matters, the information provided by him through his transmitters may be compared with

that provided by other sources. Partly, also, we might try and have a critical look at the possibilities for Ctesias to acquire sufficient information. As for the latter problem, Forsdyke argues that Ctesias was not likely to acquire authentic Assyrian information at Susa, or any other residence of the Persian king, 6r

On this subject W.A. Wagenaar has published various studies, e.g. Hersenspinsels, waarneming

en werkelijkheid, Utrecht 1989 (= Concoctions, perceptiou, and reality); Identifying Ivan: a case study in legal psychology, New York 1988; Anchored Narratives: the Psychology of Criminal Evidence, New York 1993 and De diagnostische waarde van bewijsmiddelen, Amsterdam 1995 (= The diagnostic value of evidence). Wagenaar has done much research in precisely this field, and has appeared in numerous lawsuits all over the world (notably the trial against Ivan Demjan-

juk) as an expert-witness. The human ability for recollection appears more often than not susceptible for any form of self-deception, even with sincere people.

32

1 The author and his sources

since (predominantly) oral cultures usually did not preserve native traditions of aliens with whom their own relations had been hostile. Their memories of

such predecessors hardly went back beyond the moments of contact (Forsdyke 1956, 75). If, however, Ctesias had opportunities to orally consult the templescribes at Babylon, as Herodotus did, his story of the Assyrian Empire might

very well have had some historical content.

Whether or not Ctesias did use

(oral) sources from Babylonia we cannot determine with certainty, though it seems feasible, also because of his own remark preserved in D.S. II.xxii.5, re-

ferred to before, ... τοιαῦτ᾽ ἐν ταῖς βασιλικαῖς ἀναγραφαῖς ἱστορεῖσθαί φασιν

οἱ βάρβαροι (»the barbarians say that such is the account ... as given in the royal records«).

As it is, there are several obstacles to any theory regarding Ctesias as a historian. He has generally been stated to have had no knowledge, or at least a limited

knowledge, of any events in Babylonia or Assyria before the Median conquest.®

This judgement is based on the extracts of the chapters dealing with this part of Ctesias’ story by Diodorus of Sicily. An additional complication is noted by Momigliano, writing on Greek influence on Roman historiography: »The main negative consequences of the Roman assimilation of Greek historiography were two. The first was that the Romans inherited the Greek inability to do real

research on the intermediate period between origins and contemporary events. Like the Greeks the Roman historians remained essentially equipped either to 62

Rollinger seriously doubts whether Herodotus actually ever visited Babylon (cf. Rollinger 1993, 182—7). It makes the problem how precisely he acquired his information more debatable: cf. also Stronk 2009).

63

Assyria had suffered a severe defeat in 612 against the Mede Umakistar (Cyaxares). About 550 it was incorporated in the Persian Empire under Cyrus the Great. It is not certain what

the position of Assyria has been between these dates: this question is closely connected with the problem whether a Median Empire has ever existed. Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg, 1987b

64

and 1988, argues that neither literary sources nor archaeological evidence prove beyond reasonable doubt that such an empire ever existed. Cf. also Amélie Kuhrt 1995, 654-6. Thiscertainly does not imply that Ctesias had no direct knowledge of Assyrian or Babylonian history at all: c£. , e.g., Wilamowitz 1912, 98; Drews 1965, 129—142, 138: »It is almost certain

that Babylonian records were the ultimate source of Ctesias’ report of an Assyrian empire of more than 1300 years duration.« Also J. Boncquet is not altogether negative concerning Ctesías knowledge of Assyrian and Babylonian history: cf. Bonquet 1990, 5—16, and Bonquet

1987. The same goes for Gardiner-Garden (1987, 39). Dominique Lenfant argues that Ctesias gives evidence of the rewriting of history either by the Persian court or by the diverse local traditions within the Empire (Lenfant 1996, 348; cf. also 360 sqq.). Cf. also Holzberg

1993, 81 and his n. 14. Also Gilmore (1888, 10—1) argues that Ctesias may have had ample tíme, duríng the frequent stays of the court at Babylon, to converse with prominent Babylonians, adding that Ctesias’ researches would not have been very deep: »all he wanted was to compose a plausible and interesting narrativee, especially regarding Semiramis, who had

been specially named by Herodotus. Quite positive regarding Ctesias’ knowledge of ancient oriental affairs are König (1972) and Glombiowski (e.g., 1987, 49): the position of Zawadzki

in his papers is more cautious, though still mainly positive.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

33

collect and criticise mythical traditions or to observe and report contemporary history. They were hardly able to examine the historical as opposed to the mythical past, if by examination we mean a systematic (not an occasional) study of primary evidence. They could collate and criticise reports by preceding historians, but their study of more remote history never had the value and the cogency of their study of contemporary events« (Momigliano 1990, 106—7). A further problem is that neither Persian nor Greek archives or public records (such as official inscriptions) are generally easily accessible or useful as checks. Though much more easily accessible, the Old Testament seldom provides evid-

ence that is relevant for the problems we face: the case of the archives (v. supra) is the exception which proves the rule. A final problem (in this enumeration) is that there are no undisputed (more or less) contemporary historians. Lately, Melchert (1996) has devoted a study into the differences between Herodotus and Ctesias as regards their descriptions of a number of events. As he accepts Herodotus as a trustworthy source, Melchert perhaps inevitably finds faults

with Ctesias. Melchert's research was (due to his goals) rather limited. As for the historical value of books 14—23, which fell outside of his limits, Melchert (1996, 175)

leaves the possibility open that Ctesias’ importance as a source increases as he proceeds in time (seemingly quite in line with Momigliano’s idea: vw. supra; an identical view has been proposed by Stevenson 1997). Also the historical value of Herodotus is far from undisputed,® while little more than scattered fragments are left of the work of Hellanicus of Lesbos. Certainty becomes, therefore, a rare commodity, even more so because one of Photius' criteria (for

the earlier parts of his epitome) had been to select those parts of Ctesias Persica 65

A very explicit example, of course, is Plutarch: e.g., Plu., De Herodoti Malignitate, passim. In this pamphlet, however, Plutarch's starting point is made clear right in the beginning, cf. infra $ 3.1.6, Plutarch discredits Herodotus i.a. for duplicity. He was not the only one who discredited Herodotus.

Lucian,

Verae Hist., 11.31 describes a place of punishment, a

kind of hell, where dead persons were punished for the crimes committed during their lives. The severest punishment was for those who had told or written lies while in life, among whom were Ctesias of Cnidus (notably for the Indica), Herodotus and many more (Luc. VH 2.31: for an discussion of Lucian's Verae Historiae—a work that can not be enjoyed fully because many of the works Lucian parodies are now lost-—: v. Georgiadou and Larmour 1998; also:

G. W. Bowersock,

Fiction as History: Nero to Julian, Berkeley etc.

1994, pp. 1-27

and P. von Möllendorff, Auf der Suche nach der verlogenen Wahrheit: Lukians Wahre Geschichten,

Tübingen 2000 [Classica Monacensia, vol. 21]). Other ancient critics of Herodotus include Thucydides, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Aristotle, Diodorus, Strabo, and Libanius: cf. Mo-

migliano 1990, 40. Among the recent critics on Herodotus Fehling stands out: D. Fehling, Herodotus and his »Sources«, 1989. Contra: W.K. Pritchett, The Liar School of Herodotus, Amster-

dam 1993. It should be admitted, though, that Herodotus’ version of Darius’ accession to the

throne generally looks in line with the Behistun inscription, but Ctesias’ version is less absurd than it appears at first glance: cf. Lenfant 2004, Ixxvii-Ixxxi. A thrilling reassessment of Herodotus is presented in Luraghi 2001; cf. also Bakkere.a. 2002.

34

1 The author and his sources

which differed from Herodotus’ account (and Xenophon’s,

though his work

should be dated after Ctesias’) and are therefore, one might say by necessity, subject to contention.

Since in the eyes of many, Herodotus' histories have

become »the« history, any deviation faces an uphill battle.

The question whether or not Ctesias used archives to write his Persica raises two other, interconnected, questions: (1) did he already during his stay in Persia plan to write a history of Persia and (2) did he make notes, e.g. in a journalor the like? I think that the first question might be answered in the affirmative if it could be shown that his work (also) contains reliable and verifiable historical information, especially regarding the Assyrian and Median periods (allowing for

Momigliano’s reservations, introduced above). As that appears to be the case (cf. , in this respect, the remarks supra note 64), it seems conceivable that he deliberately did, while still serving at the Persian court, collect information that

might help him to accomplish his goal, i.e. to write such a book. In that case the

use of some kind of notebook seems quite probable, too. From these considerations, it seems reasonable to proceed on the assumption that Ctesias’ work was more than a paraphrase or a persiflage—it has been even called plagiarism—of

Herodotus’ Historiae (cf. Jacoby 1922, 2050--9, perhaps based upon a letter by Pollio to Soteridas, quoted by Eusebius, FGrH No. 688 T 17). Ctesias’ Persica is in all likelihood very much his own, original creation (cf. also Lenfant 2004, xxviti~xxxii and even Bichler 2007, 232). A possibility, however, we may not exclude is that Ctesias played a literary game for and with his Greek audience,

using not only Herodotus but also Aeschylus, Euripides and other authors, very

much in line with Bichler's ideas (v. also infra). I believe such a play—if it was played at all—should not be condemned outright as paraphrase or persiflage, let alone plagiarism.

The ever present problem is, however, that we never can be completely sure about what Ctesias did actually write. We cannot be sure that any transmitter, apart, probably, from Xenophon, worked from a minimally spoilt text. Pho-

tius may, as unlikely as it seems, even have used another epitome of the Persica, made by Pamphila of Epidaurus,*5 to compose his own extract, as von Christ suggests (von Christ 1912, I, 523; the same view is, e.g., also represented by 66

Pamphila of Epidaurus flourished had moved to Greece from Egypt, Photius) considered as Egyptian: 119b38). She was the daughter of

in the age of the Emperor Nero. Her family or ancestors most likely Alexandria, and she was therefore (at least by Αἰγυπτία δὲ τὸ γένος ἡ Παμφίλη (cf. Phot. Bibl. [175] Soteridas of Epidaurus and was married to a grammarian,

Soteridas (according to the Suda π, 139) or Sokratidas. Apart from the epitome of Ctesias’ Persica and various other epitomes she also wrote the Σύμμιυκτα ἱστορικὰ ὑπομνήματα (Collection of historical memorabilia, in 33 books). This was her main work, essentially a history of literature of which ten fragments have been preserved. The most detailed information on this book and its writer is found in Photius' Bibliotheca, codex 175. She also wrote some works now completely lost, the Περὶ ἀφροδισίων (On pleasures of love) and the Περὶ ἀμφισβητήσεων

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

Lesky, 1971?, 698 and Grant 1980 s.v.

Ctesias).

35

Even in a recent edition of

Dihle's Griechische Literaturgeschichte (München 1998, 251) this view is advoc-

ated, though Dihle does not mention Pamphila by name, only stating that »im Exzerptenwerk des ... Photius ... besitzen wir den Auszug aus einer im 1. Jh.

n. Chr. veranstalteten Kurzfassung.« It is my opinion that Photius actually did use a complete, but transmitted and therefore potentially altered, copy of Ctesias’ work (cf. infra ad Ch. 1.2, p. 141 sq.), which he partly used with a defined goal,

i.e. to compare Ctesias' account with that by Herodotus and Xenophon (Phot. Bibl. [72] 35b40—3625; v. et infra Ch. 1.2). How many distortions, wilful alterations, and mistakes during the process of copying were made, nobody can tell, nor how it is reflected (cf. also Lenfant 2004, cxc—i and her note 784 regarding the way Herodotus has been quoted

by other historians: cf. in this respect also Lenfant 1999). An example may serve to illustrate the point: Ctesias relates in the Assyriaca the death of King Sardanapallus.

In the fragments this death is described as αἰσχρῶς (»disgrace-

ful«) by Diodorus of Sicily (II.xxiii.4.), but as γενναίως (»noble, glorious«) by Athenaeus (X11.529D). The same characterization applies to Ctesias as, according to Edwards,” to Plato: »Our Plato< is of course a rhetorical fragment; it was

also true in the ancient world that two intelligent readers might not agree as to whether a passage in the dialogues was ironic or serious, tentative or dogmatic,

propaedeutic or definitive.« Brunt rightly observes: »Fragments« and even epitomes reflect the interests of the authors who cite or summarize lost works as much as or more than the characteristics of the works concerned ... Only long excerpts reveal something ofan author's quality, and then we need to be assured that they are representative« (Brunt 1980, 494). However, even then personal

values of the excerpter may play a role in his choice. The longest epitome that we have of the Persica today is that written by Photius. How accurately he worked

will be discussed in 2.4.1 sub F, p. 130—146. In 2008 Mülke produced an important study regarding authorship and text (Mülke 2008). In the first chapter (on the limited means available for authors to protect their texts: Mülke 2008, 11—82) he starts with an introduction into the conditions under which ancient authors produced their works. In antiquity, authors had little influence on the distribution and the integrity of their texts. Authorship was attributed to the explicitly named author of a text. Nonetheless, the text itself was open to modification, falsification, and corruption, and

the author could not do much to prevent it. Mülke rightly refers to the particularities of ancient book production, and especially to the uniqueness of the copying process. A copyist might have sensed the singularity of the copy pro(On differences of opinion); cf. von Christ 1920-24, I, 437; RE (XVIII, 2 1949), s.v. Pamphila (1); DKIP, s.v. Pamphila; DND, s.v. Pamphila.

67

M. Edwards, Philosophy in the Age of Plotinus, London 2006, 10.

36

1 The author and his sources

duced and thus have felt the freedom, sometimes even the right, to change a

"Vorlage because of the special responsibility he had for the unique copy he produced (Mülke 2008, 13). Mülke deals with several examples and concludes that

falsifications started immediately after the composed text was given away. The range of falsifications differs from one case to another. There are large interpolations and deletions but—in some of the works Mülke focused on—also intense ideological falsifications (for instance, by heretic groups). Some examples even demonstrate a profound knowledge and use of termini technici among the

falsifiers: Though the most detailed examples of Mülke are taken from the early period of the current era to the mediaeval period, he makes unmistakeably clear that the practice already started in early Greece: Homer, the Attic tragedies, Plautus, to name some examples. We can, therefore, almost never be sure which

faults or mistakes were the responsibility of the epitomizer or ofthe (secondary) author and which errors are to be attributed to Ctesias himself. The practice of most modern authors is to blame Ctesias for all errors.

It is possible that the judgement of these modern authors was also influenced by the views of Hegel and his followers, or a group of Anglo-American philosophers, or the French Annales group, or members of the Frankfurter Schule, or

the Structuralists and Post-Structuralists, or others. They all consider, or even condemn, narrative history as subjective history, a kind of annals or chronicles

but certainly not objective (7 real) history (cf. White, 1987, 26—58). But is it right to state that the Persica fails as a history because Ctesias was more inter-

ested in the form than in the matter, the content (cf. White 1987, 17 sqq. on Richerus of Rheims)? Can we determine Ctesias’ matter? We will deal with these problems further on. 1.1.5 The poet

So far we have discussed Ctesias as if he were a pure historian.® Is it, however, right to look upon Ctesias, primarily or even exclusively, as a historian, or is his position more complex? 68

I believe there is evidence that it is. One of the

Iagree completely with Gomme

1954, 102, that from ancient and modern historians one

expects honesty, intelligence, and diligence. In this respect we may judge ancient writers by our modern standards.

However, our possibilities and techniques for textual criticism,

both internal and external, of the sources generally differ so much from those of the ancient

world that to apply modern standards seems an impossible demand (cf. also Momigliano 1990, 106—7, quoted supra). If one takes into account the very nature of the sources many

ancient writers had to rely on, information only from hearsay or originally orally transmitted sources, it will be clear that I take a more liberal point of view in this matter. What we hope to find is of course honesty, intelligence, and diligence, but we are'allowed to show forgiveness, or at least understanding, if the result of the attempts of ancient writers does not meet our

standards.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

37

most neglected remarks from antiquity on the qualities of Ctesias is to be found in Demetrius’ On Style, 215.9. Demetrius states that: xoi ὅλως δὲ ὁ ποιητὴς οὗτος

(ποιητὴν

γὰρ

αὐτὸν

καλοίη

τις ἂν εἰκότως)

ἐναργείας

δημιουργός

ἐστιν ἐν τῇ γραφῇ συμπάσῃ (»In general, this poiétés—for it would be normal

to call him [i.e. Ctesias, JPS] a poiétés—is a practitioner of vividness throughout his work«). Demetrius' description of Ctesias as a poiétés seems, at first, hard to fathom,

at least as long as we look upon Ctesias (exclusively) as a historian. The earliest writers in prose recording the past of Greece were generally designated as AovoYpopoc (logographos) or λογοποιός (logopoios, both more or less the equival-

ent for »storyteller9), a word that could, and frequently did, carry a negative connotation. As early as Hecataeus of Miletus (c. 550—c. 475) such feelings were expressed. In the Genealogies he stated: Ἑκαταῖος Μιλήσιος ὧδε μυθεῖται: τάδε γράφω, ὥς μοι δοκεῖ ἀληθέα εἶναι: οἱ γὰρ Ἑλλήνων λόγοι πολλοί τε καὶ

γελοῖοι, ὡς ἐμοὶ φαίνονται, εἰσίν (»Hecataeus of Miletus records the following: I write what seems to me to be true; for the Greeks tell many stories which, as 69

Whatever the date of On Style may be—and it is a matter open to debate (and therefore also its authorship) with a date ranging from the late 4th century to the Ist century—it is certain that its design, its principles, and its contents are Peripatetic in origin.

Its ultimate sources are, as it

appears, Arístotle's Rhetorics and Theophrastus’ Περὶ λέξεως (cf. A. Mayer, Theophrasti Περὶ λέξεως libri fragmenta, Leipzig 1910) and to a lesser extent Aristotle's Poetics, but it also may show some Stoic influence, like in $ 172. In its entirety it presents us with no definite evidence for an origin in either Hellenistic or Graeco-Roman times. The title of the best and oldest manuscript of this text (»P« = P 1741, dating to the Xth century and kept at Paris; the other

main manuscript being »M«, Marcianus gr. 508, dating to the later XIVth century) reads Δημητρίου Φαληρέως περὶ ἑρμηνείας ὅ ἐστι περὶ φράσεως, thus ascribing it to Demet-

rius of Phalerum (c. 360—280), but at the end simply states Δημητρίου περὶ ἑρμηνείας, leaving the possibility that another Demetrius has been the author of the text completely open. Roberts (W.R. Roberts, Demetrius On Style, Cambridge, MA 1927, 268—77: part of the first Loeb edition of Aristotle's Poetica, Longinus" On the Sublime, and Demetrius’ On Style),

Schenkeveld (D.M. Schenkeveld, Studies in Demetrius On Style, Amsterdam 1964, 135— 48), and, e.g., Paffenroth (K. Paffenroth, »A Note on the Dating of Demetrius On Style, CQ 44 [1994] 280-1) all opt for a date in the Ist century, while Grube (G.M.A. Grube, A Greek Critic: Demetrius On Style, Toronto 1961, 39—42) suggests a date in the first half of the 3rd

century, while the editor of the Budé edition, Chiron, supposes the author of On Style should be dated to the late 2nd or early 1st century (Démétrios, Du Style, texte établi et traduit par P. Chiron, París 1993). In the current Loeb edition of 1996 of the afore mentioned works D.C. Innes, in a succinct but excellent review, also discusses date and authorship of the On Style

(p. 312-21). Her conclusions: »The contents at least do not preclude and may best reflect the second century BC« (p. 313) and »There may ... bea few points of language to suggest a

date of composition as late as the early first century BC« (p. 321); in short: a middle position. Fascinating as this »play of dates« may be, for our purpose it really does not make a major difference when precisely this work was composed nor whether the author of On Style was Demetrius of Phalerum or, perhaps even more likely, another Demetrius: it is the Peripatetic contents, terminology, and the nature of the work that eventually and essentially count in the context of the present investigation.

38

1 The author and his sources

it appears to me, are absurd«: FGrH No. 1 F. 1). At that time λόγος, logos, was the word most used for what we would call »history«, logographos or mythographos

for »historian«.”°

Possibly partly with this point in mind— apart from the fact that he actually precisely described his actions—Herodotus described his work as a ἀπόδεξις

ἱστορίης (result of an investigation«: Hdt. 1.1.1). In his turn Thucydides noted that he ὑνέγραψε τὸν πόλεμον (described the war«: Th.L.i.1). Thucydides used the same term as Hellanicus of Lesbos, though perhaps with a slightly differ-

ent connotation. Herodotus and Thucydides/Hellanicus provided us in their proems with two new and seemingly sufficient terms to describe the work of what we in all likelihood would call a historian, sc. toxoptoYpo«péo and ovyγράφεω. The introduction of yet another term, ποιέω, and related therewith its practitioner rotmtng, seems at first sight needless, since the existing words ap-

pear to describe the »historian«’s work adequately.” To translate poiétés simply as yauthor< does, however, not quite fit in the context, being not sufficiently specific. On the other hand Demetrius did certainly not mean to qualify Ctesias as a writer of poetry (as we see it) like Homer, nor does Ctesias’ work correspond directly with that of writers of tragedies or comedies. I think that Demetrius with the introduction of the concept of poiétés in this connotation is indicating that another element should be distinguished in the description of the past and that we have to look for an answer to the question of Demetrius’ specific use of

the word in a particular direction. We may, I think, relate Demetrius’ use of ποιητὴς with a remark of Aristotle (Arist. Poet. IX.1 [21451a36—38]): Φανερὸν δὲ ἐκ τῶν εἰρημένων καὶ ὅτι οὐ τὸ τὰ γενόμενα λέγειν. τοῦτο ποιητοῦ ἔργον ἐστίν, ἀλλ᾽οἷα ἂν γένοιτο καὶ τὰ

δυνατὰ κατὰ τὸ eixoc ἢ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον (»It is also obvious from what we have said that it is the function of a poet to relate not things that have happened, but things that may happen, i.e. that are possible in accordance with probability or necessity«: translation: Janko 1987, 12). Demetrius' qualification of Ctesias as a poiétés, when set against the background of Aristotle’s words, offers us, I think,

an opportunity to establish Ctesias’ position more clearly. A translation such as creative writer« is perhaps the best starting point. It connects almost seamlessly with both the meaning of the word ποιέω (cf. LSJ, s.v. A2) and with Quintilian’s view (X.i.31): [Historia] est enim proxima poetis et quodammodo carmen solutum, et scribitur ad narrandum non ad probandum, totumque opus non ad actum rei pugnamque praesentem, sed ad memoriam posteritatis et in70

The very word does, by the way, stress the enormous value of the narratic element in recording the past.

71

In this respect it is noteworthy to remember that Diodorus described Ctesias as a συγγραφεὺς (D.S. XIV.xlvi.6; cf. also Strabo XIV.ii.15) and that he ἱστορήσε (D.S. L1vi.5, cf. also I.xx.3)

1.1

Life and works of Cresias

39

genii famam componitur (»Historiography is very close to poetry and is somehow

poetry-written-in-prose-form. It is written for the purpose of narrative, not of proof, and a historian composes his ceuvre not to argue a case and the action in court? of the present, but to give posterity something to remember and to win glory for its author«). If we take this statement by Quintilian in its full force, we can understand

much better how in Ctesias’ Persica historiography has almost become creative narration on the basis of an—in itself (potentially) reliable— historical nucleus (cf. Gomme 1954, 55-6). Writing history (like, e.g., Thucydides?) changes into a description of events in a more or less free interpretation of occurrences,

perhaps occasionally even approaching a historical novel.”* Such a literary re-

working does not necessarily generate second-rate literature, as some famous examples show.’ It is, however, not genuine, strict history in our modern perception.” Whether that was (or even is) at all possible is, as Greenwood (2006, 11) indicates, open to discussion: »Thucydides did not write his work under the term, let alone the discipline, of »history«, his work is one of the best ex-

amples of the ambiguity of this noun (my italics, JPS), which can signify past events ., ἃ discipline ..., and the textual representation of these events ...« And

somewhat further: »... all historical narratives ... involve ordering and invention ... More fundamentally, invention occurs not just at the level of composition, where events have to be arranged into a sequence or a nexus, but also when it comes to determining what constitutes an event« (Greenwood 2006, 11). Aside from the remarks presented above: the possibility that the historicity, or rather accuracy, of Ctesias’ account increases the more he approaches his own

times (v. supra), is clearly present. 72

For the interpretation of ad actum rei 1 am indebted to Ε Ahlheid (through J.M. Bremer), who mentioned as a parallel for this translation Quintilian VILii.41: in vero actu rei, during ἃ real action ín court (or trial).

73

Cf.

EM. Cornford, Thucydides Mythistoricus, London

1907.

Gomme

1954, 116-164, shows

that Thucydides frequently adapted techniques of narration which were basically not different from Homer's or Aeschylus'; we might say that he, too, sometimes composed his narration like a poiétés.

Cf.

in this respect T. Rood,

Thucydides:

Narrative and Explanation,

Oxford 1998. Critical remarks regarding Thucydides’ method and presentation are also to be

found in G. Cawkwell, Thucydides and the Peloponnesian War, London 1997. Also Greenwood 2006, 21-2 argues that there are convincing links between Thucydides' story and Athenian

tragedy and even comedy. 74

75

For the definition of novel ! follow Schmeling (Schmeling 1996, 1, 2) and the definition of the Oxford English Dictionary. Other definitions of what kind of prose exactly is to be considered as a novel: are in my view too restrictive, as, e.g., that of Morgan (1997, 130). Well-known examples are R. Graves’ I Claudius, G. Vidal's fascinating Julian and his challenging Creation, M. Yourcenar's Mémoires d' Hadrien.

76

Cf. for a more fundamental discussion of this problem Stronk Proceedings Kiel and Stronk 2007.

40

1 The author and his sources

Keeping this in mind, I think it wrong to look at Ctesias’ work through the lenses of modern historians’ criteria, let alone exclusively so. An additional

problem is that what we would call a novel was seriously undertheorized in antiquity. Morgan (1997, 132) rightly remarks that: »There is no equivalent of Aristotle's Poetics for prose fiction,

... There is not even a word for novel: in

ancient Greek, and the Byzantines were driven back to calling these works »dramast or »histories« (cf. also Holzberg 1996a, 11), proper histories (in our view)

occasionally as ἱστορικαὶ διηγήσεις (»historical narratives«: Eus. HE V.praef. 3). As regards the lack of a strong theoretical framework for prose fiction, the same is, essentially, true for non-fiction prose.

The fact that Ctesias, at least according to Photius, frequently declares himself in opposition to Herodotus (or Xenophon, but that is irrelevant: cf. supra) oes not necessarily imply that Ctesias considers himself, or, for that matter, Herodotus, as a historian as we look upon a historian. We can not be sure how

Ctesias conceived his own work,” but he certainly did not consider himself a 'historianc it would have been an anachronism. Aristotle was the first to discuss

fundamentally the nature of the work of those writers dealing with the past. He distinguished firmly and for the first time between the specific, technical word

'historians a coinage of his own—denoting those who discussed ta genomena (Wie es eigentlich gewesen), possibly thinking of Thucydides—and the word

»poet« describing those who paid attention to more general values and patterns, the universals rather than the particulars: ὁ γὰρ ἱστορικὸς καὶ ὁ ποιητὴς οὐ TH ἢ ἔμμετρα λέγειν ἢ ἄμετρα διαφέρουσιν: εἴη γὰρ ἂν τὰ Ἡροδότου εἰς μέτρα τεθῆναι καὶ οὐδὲν ἧττον ἂν εἴη ἱστορία τις μετὰ μέτρου ἢ ἄνευ μέτρων: ἀλλὰ

τούτῳ διαφέρει, τῷ τὸν μὲν τὰ γενόμενα λέγειν, τὸν δὲ οἷα ἂν γένοιτο (/The difference between a historian and a poet is not that one writes in metre and the other without metre: for if the work of Herodotus would be rendered in metre it would also be nothing less than some kind of history with metre or without 77

Momigliano 1990, 107, rightly remarks that »... every historian writes wich an eye to his pre-

decessors. But each Greek historian of the Classical and Hellenistic ages was more interested in what he had to say than in what his predecessors had said. If he attacked his predecessors,

it was because he had to justify himself.« See also: Photius Bibl. [72] 3641 and 42b11 as well as D.S. I.xxxii.4. Ctesias himselfis not likely to have distinguished between »historian: and »poet«. Serious thinking about such a distinction started, as we will shortly see, only with Aristotle (v. infra). At the time of Cicero the separation has become complete, at least for some (cf. Cicero's remarks infra). Lucian's view on how to write history is very strict and generally not unlike Cicero's: cf. his Hist. Conser. (= 59.) 7, 39, 41, 47, 51, 63. Lenfant (1996, 362 sqq.)

argues that part ofthe difference between Persian history as told by Herodotus and by Ctesias may be explained by official rewriting of history for ideological purposes. Both, however, 78

probably used, to a large extent, identical types of sources, as appears from various chapters of Luraghi 2001 and Bakker e.a. 2002. The phrase coined by Franz Leopold (von) Ranke 1885, Sämtliche Werke, Bd. 33/34. Leipzig, 57.

1.1 Life and works of Cresias

41

metres; but it differs in this that one writes what happened,

might happen«: Arist. Poet. 1X.2 [=1451a38—b4]).”

the other what

The word did not stick

immediately as the technical term Aristotle intended it to be, nor was the dis-

tinction (also regarding authors from the past) as clear-cut as Aristotle appears to suggest: Hornblower demonstrates there is a lot of »poetry« to be found in 'Thucydides,** but that even more goes for Herodotus who is explicitly ranked among those writing»history« by Aristotle himself (cf. note 79). — —

What we can safely state with respect to his writings is that Ctesias does claim some authority as an expert in Persian matters (cf. esp. FGrH No. 688 T8). But should that fact alone make him a historian as we like to see or read one, or, more fundamentally, define one? Is claiming authority in many instances not natural or even just a figure of style—even regardless of the fact that, as far as

we can tell, he did spend a number of years in Persia in the direct vicinity of the King and his mother and on the basis of that mere fact does have a point in his claim for authority? Claiming authority belongs to both worlds, the world of non-fiction and the world of fiction. To remind us, Dictys Cretensis (= Dictys of Cnossus) and

Dares of Phrygia described the Trojan War as if they had been eyewitnesses, one the supposed companion of Idomeneus, the other the so-called Trojan priest of Hephaestus,

frequently contradicting Homer.

Or, to remind us of a later ex-

ample, Thomas More emphatically presented Raphael Hythlodaeus (nomen est

omen!), an experienced traveller from Portugal, as the man who had visited Utopia and had spent some time there.” Müller rightly remarks that »Die Rolle des zuverlässig informierenden Berichterstatters ist Teil der Fiktionalität des Romans. Während Ich-Erzählung und Briefroman als authentische Äußerungen

über Selbsterlebtes und Selbsterfahrenes den Anspruch der Glaubwürdigkeit in sich selbst tragen, besteht die Beglaubigungsfiktion der Er-Erzählung darin, daß der Autor direkt oder indirekt in der Rolle des »Historikers« auftritt — dessen, der berichtet, wie es wirklich gewesen ist« (Müller 1981, 378; cf. also Mor79

Aristotle appears to rank Herodotus here among the historians sc. those who described ta genomena.

85

Hornblower 1987, 7-12. We meet the term historia or historein as a technical term for the first

time in the early third century: OGIS 13 is a letter of Lysimachus to the citizens of Samos. In line 12, Lysimachus writes that he was convinced »from the histories and other evidence

and documents.« Later, we know for sure that Phylarchus, late third century, and Polybius, second century, used the word in the technical sense in the title of their work: the amount

81

of evidence for other writers is just too fragmentary and scanty to be certain. Ontheclaiming of authority cf. J. Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography, Cambridge 1997. I do not share all of his conclusions or remarks concerning Ctesias; on that

point, his views are very much in line with Jacoby's.

82

Cf. The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 4 (Utopia), ed. by E. Surtz s.j. and J.H. Hexter, New Haven/London

1965. The Greek word »hythlos« means snonsense«, 'gossip«.

42

1 The author and his sources

gan 1997, 133).

Only Ctesias is no pure novelist, no more than he is a pure

historian. I believe we may summarize his position best as follows, that Ctesias

appears to have probably, on the one hand, intended his work to have a historical content that was as reliable as he possibly could gather on the basis of the sources available to him. On the other hand, however, he also had as an author

apparently an extra-historical (if you like to call it so, a philosophical) intent. In itself that would be sufficient to call him—following Aristotelian criteria—a »poiétés«, and that is precisely what Demetrius does. Dealing with the Persica of Ctesias we should therefore, I think, constantly

bear in mind that we are not facing a historical work stricto sensu, but the didactical work of a »poet«, treating historical persons and events in a, perhaps, more or less invented historical context (of which, of course, many or even most parts may be quite accurate). We even might, perhaps, consider him as a

kind of Tragic Historian, a kind of forerunner to that style, a mixture between novel-like literature and »genuine« historiography. That style was ultimately defined by Duris of Samos in the prolegomena to his work but is, regularly, also visible in a number of stories related by Herodotus (cf. Marasco 1988). In this respect Greek historiography shows a continuous tradition in which modern authors discover time and again »new< developments which are, more often than

not, generally just nuances in approach and/or style. Though, e.g., differences

in presentation and appearance between the works of Herodotus and Thucydides are obvious, Herodotus' method of ὄψις (visual information, observation: cf.

Hdt. 11.99, 11.147) and ἀκοή (verbal information, hearsay: cf. apart from the

previously under opsis mentioned ones also Hdt. II.123.1, VII.152.3) is not es-

sentially different from the method Thucydides described for his work in 1.22. The same is largely the case for the referential framework of both authors and their themes: both devote their attention to the great conflicts that shook the

Greek world in the 5th century, sc. the Persian Wars and the Peloponnesian War respectively. What is notable, however, is that the appreciation for the professional achievements of both authors as »historians« is distinctly different. The difference in appreciation starts at least as early as Lucian (in his work Quormodo historia conscribenda sit (How to write History), notably in chapter 42, but is also

clearly visible in his Verae Historiae [True Histories]) and is reflected in the judgements of later authors: the differences in presentation, appearance, and stylistic

features between Herodotus and Thucydides may have played a key role in this

development. I firmly believe that (many ancient but definitely) many modern 83

A perfect example of this phenomenon is to be found in the third letter of Chion, allegedly written shortly after the remnants of the »Ten Thousand« had passed through Byzantium. Early in the XXth century Boucher still believed this letter to be authentic: cf. for a more detailed account Stronk 1995, 160.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

43

authors underestimate the strength of tradition and continuity in the Greek world, literature certainly not excluded.

What did Duris write? He states in his prolegomena that history should describe life (βίος) as tragedy does; like tragedy, it should evoke the passion (πάθος) of its audience. Further he attacks Ephorus and Theopompus (pupils of [socrates) because they fail to produce a sufficiently dramatic description of events, offering neither a portrait (μίμησις) nor pleasure in the wording (ἡδονὴ

ἐν τῷ φράσαι), just limiting themselves to writing (γράφειν: 1956, 106—7).

cf. Von Fritz

Whether Duris' words, in one kind or another, are only a re-

action to the Isocratic School or to to consider here, if it is relevant at reconsideration«, BICSLondon 1955, may come to a position to attribute dition which he deserves.

Aristotle's is a discussion we all (cf. EW. Walbank, ‘Tragic 4 sqq.). If we read Ctesias in to him the place in the Greek

do not need History. A this way we literary tra-

It would, moreover, do justice to Demetrius! re-

mark: Demetrius focuses, as the title of his work indicates, primarily on style,

but throughout the work there is the question of interaction between content and style. The work is, therefore, frequently as much »On Content as»On Style« the two are, more or less, inseparable (cf. the remark of Cicero, like

Quintilian another enthusiastic user of Theophrastus’ Περὶ λέξεως: Cic. Orat. 100). Referring to Ctesias as an Aristotelian poiétés Demetrius, implicitly, connects Ctesias with the main subject of Aristotle's Poetica: Greek tragedy. Such a link just might strengthen the case for Ctesias as forerunner of the work of the group known as the »tragic historians working from this hypothesis we might, moreover, be able to make more sense of the fragments of Ctesias as we have them. 1.1.6 Style

Our view of the position of Ctesias as a writer may be corroborated by a review of what is known of his style. Again it is to be stressed from the beginning that the only original text we have (at least to date) is a mere fragment of papyrus consisting of some 29 narrow lines (cf. for the text infra sub Ch. 1.3.3 and

Ch. IL3, F 8b). Reading the papyrus fragment (P.Oxy. 2330), we notice that the style of writing is not very refined, elaborated, or seductive: in short, not likely to charm (cf. Holzberg 1993, 83). The dialect ofthe fragment approaches the Ionic of the Hippocratic corpus? (not surprisingly: cf. Kollesch 1989, 11 sqq.), which is less rigorous than Herodotus’ Ionic: Bengtson describes Ctesias' Greek even as Attic (Bengtson 1970, 297). His view is supported by Giannattasio Andria (2003, 18) on the basis of P.Oxy. 2330 (ΞΕ 8b). I agree that the 84

Gilmore (1888, 5) mentions a number of Ionicisms in the Persica: they are few and of little importance.

44

1 The author and his sources

Greek of this fragment looks very much like Attic, but this fragment alone is,

in my opinion, too little to be used as conclusive evidence to determine with certainty the dialect Ctesias used. There are, moreover, distinct differences, as

it appears, between the Greek used by Ctesias in the Persica and that used in the Indica as transmitted, which seems to show more features one should expect in the Doric dialect. The fragment does confirm several of Photius' criticisms® (and, for that part,

Dionysius of Halicarnassus). It shows a very simple sentence structure (almost old-fashioned), primitive-sounding changes of subject, inelegant repetitions, repeated relative clauses, and it is wordy. Nevertheless, Photius praises Ctesias way of writing (Phot. Bibl. [72] 45a5—7): »This writer is clear and very simple, and so his style gives pleasure (hédoné)«. This statement is elaborated somewhat further (Phot. Bibl. [72] 45312—15): »The pleasure (hédoné) given by his account consists mainly in the structure of his stories, which evoke

emotion and offer unexpected turns and embellishments which bring it to the borders of the fabulous.« During one of their conversations M.Tullius Cicero and his brother Quintus discuss the nature of history (Cic. Leg. 1.5). The passage runs as follows: Q.: Intellego te, frater, alias in historia leges observandas putare, alias in poémate. M.:

Quippe, cum in illa omnia ad veritatem, Quinte, referantur, in hoc ad delectationem pleraque; quamquam et apud Herodotum, patrem historiae, et apud "Theopompum sunt in-

numerabiles fabulae. (Q.: »As I understand it, then, my dear brother, you believe that different principles are to be followed in history and in poetry.« M. : »Certainly, Quintus; for in history the standard by which everything is judged is the truth," while in poetry it is generally the pleasure one gives; nevertheless, 85 86

87

Cf for an elaborated analysis of this fragment Digwood 1986. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (D.H. Comp. 10) classifies Ctesias among Hecataeus and other primitive historians: though they possess freshness and grace, they lack sophistication. A writer like Herodotus had both qualities, according to Dionysius (and Photius, who makes Herodotus the standard for Ionic). Nevertheless »thex truth is not always the goal of a historical work, at least not in Cicero's

view, as a letter written from Arpinum to his friend Lucius Lucceius in April of 56 clearly illustrates (Familiares, V.xii (xiii), esp. c. 3). Also elsewhere (in De officiis, II.xiv [= 51]) Cicero shows the elasticity of his concepts on truth: Iudicis est semper in causis verum sequi, patroni non numquam veri simile, ctiamsi minus sit verum, defendere; quod scribere, praesertim cum de philosophia

scriberem, non auderem, nisi idem placeret gravissimo Stoicorum, Panaetio (»lt is always the task of the judge in a trial to find out the truth; it is sometimes the business of the advocate to bring forward what looks like the truth, even if it be not strictly true; I should not dare to say this,

especially when writing on philosophy, if it were not also the view of that strictest of Stoics, Panaetiuss). It raises the question whether, if at all, Cicero (or, for that matter, anyone else) is

able to distinguish at all times facts from analyses and interpretations. As, e.g., the report by the NIOD (Nederlands Instituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie = Dutch Institute for War Documentation) regarding the events surrounding the fall of the Muslim-enclave Srebrenica in

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

45

also in the works of Herodotus, the Father of History, and in those of Theopompus, one finds innumerable fabulous tales«: translation: C. Walker Keyes,

Loeb Classical Library, slightly adapted). I am not absolutely sure whether the

delectatio mentioned by Cicero may be completely equated with the hédoné of Photius: if not, I think it may at least be considered to be a very important aspect of it.

Connecting the apparent nature of Ctesias’ Persica, as we know it from the excerpts or adaptations by Diodorus of Sicily, Nicholas of Damascus, Photius of Constantinople, and the remarks by Plutarch, with the examples Cicero mentions, we get another point of view on Ctesias. Fabulous tales, fantasies, or

fables (perhaps even court gossips and love stories) are the basic material of the poet who wants to give pleasure (delectatio), as much as they are key ingredients of tragic poets like Aeschylus, Euripides, or Sophocles. Now we have reached a point where we can see both Photius’ remark on the hédoné presented by Ctesias and Demetrius’ qualification of him as a poiétés in a new and coherent perspective. It underlines at the same time Ctesias’ position as a»historian« as well as his novelist's attitude towards his trade." It moreover unveils the Oriental roots of at least some of Ctesias’ sources (cf. supra). It also shows the huge difference jn attitude between Cicero (here) and Quintilian on the one hand, and the ap-

parent difference in concept between Cicero (here) and the Greeks of what to consider as»true« on the other. However, a caveat is needed. »History« and »poetry: as discussed so far ma seem to be two disparate disciplines. In practice, however, the difference between »historian« and »poiétés needs, as we have tried to demonstrate, not to

be very distinct. »[And] in good history there is, inevitably, both science and art, and modern scholars are quite wrong in saying, or implying, that one is,

practically speaking, incompatible with the other. The historian, in his narrative, cannot help being an artist, a good, or alas so often, a bad one« (Gomme 1954, 140). Also Henrichs (1999, 223) underlines the fact that, in practice, what we call »myth« and shistory< are actually inseparably interwoven. ‘They are two faces of the same coin. The difference (in our perception, at least) may, essentially, perhaps sometimes only be a matter of emphasis. Sometimes, however, Bosnia in 1995 (J.C.H. Blom and P. Romijn [edd.], Srebrenica, een »veilig« gebied (= Srebrenica, a »safe« area), Amsterdam 2002) shows, the margins between fact, analysis, and interpretation may be very slim, indeed. The report also shows that, quite often, every group or faction involved adheres to its own, whether or not distorted, view of the truth. Which version of the truth eventually will prevail may depend on several factors, not necessarily strict objectiv-

ity, but more likely the sharing of pain or blame by several groups or the possibility to find a scapegoat. It is, therefore, useful to remind ourselves constantly that any official history needs not necessarily exactly correspond at all times with the actual events (cf. also supra n.

462).

88

Cf. for the cross-fertilisation between »history« and »poetry« Gomme

1954, passim.

46

] The author and his sources

the approach of the material shows a certain preference for a particular handling by an author (cf. White 1987, passim). One way or the other, the result is that the author's work is practically automatically classified (by experts, of

course) into a specific category. Once trapped, the author is branded. Differences between categories are emphasized, similarities (often more apparent than the differences) neglected. In our modern perception we tend to distinguish betweenotruexandountrue«, between logos and muthos, between history and myth.

We tend, however, to

forget that traditionally these two sides of the past are both used to explain the present, and that myth in this context plays its own important part in the collective memory of any group (cf. , e. £., Munn, supra, and Hall 2002). As time proceeds, boundaries between muthos and logos, between myth and history, will inevitably arise (though some also may fade away) and, in a following stage,

shift, e.g. due to increased knowledge.

However, for Greeks the distinction

was, as we have seen, much more difficult than it should be for us and remained

fluid down into the Hellenistic period (cf. also Henrichs 1999, 224—7). One factor that adds to the problem is that the historians of the classical world had partly focused on great men, their personalities, careers, and actions

(cf. Russell 1973, 104 and note 8). Noteworthy as an example is the last part of the second book of the Anabasis by Xenophon, devoted to a description of lives

and careers of the Greek generals abducted by Tissaphernes.

The character-

assassination of Menon sharply contrasts with the eulogy on Clearchus. Personal likes and dislikes appear to have triumphed over objectivity (apart from the fact that he had known both men personally, Xenophon had, obviously, also read the Persica®). A similar verdict is possible for Xenophon's Agesilaus. Russell describes the process thus: »... historical material is recast in the rhetorical mould of the encomium« (Russell 1973, 104). The merger between history and philosophical aims and methods in the

widest sense continued after Xenophon and is clearly apparent in Isocrates (i.a. the Euagoras, the Panegyricus, and the Panathenaicus) and the Isocrateans Ephorus and Theopompus. Theopompus especially deeply explored the characters of his various subjects, be they courtiers, companions to the Macedonian king, or

leaders of Athens. It appears that throughout the fourth century BC history has increasingly become subservient to moralizing philosophy. In his Introduction to Warner's translation of Xenophon's Hellenica Cawkwell states: »... Xenophon must have known that he was not in any important sense doing the sort of thing Thucydides had done ..., most historians of the Fourth Century were far from a single-minded obsession with truth and Xeno89

Cf. X. An. Lviii.26, 27; cf. also Lenfant 2004, 226 note 12; also Brown 1986 and Orsi 1990:

Ctesias puts the blame on Menon for the treacherous attack on the Greek generals.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

47

phon is with them rather than with his great predecessor. His primary purpose is the moral one of depicting virtue«.” Ctesias may well have held similar views as Xenophon, and therewith fitted into a general development. It certainly does

not disagree with what we know about Ctesias’ work and may further clarify

Demetrius’ point of view. It also makes Ctesias, and for that matter in many ways Xenophon as well, a kind of predecessor of what we have come to know as the Hellenistic novel,

though Holzberg (1995, 37, 41) denies a direct relationship between novel and

historiography.?' Both writers offer, instead of the historical reality, ta genomena, in at least parts of their oeuvre, a more or less fictitious and idealised world

(within the framework of this study: Xenophon especially in his Cyropaedia). By using methods of style traditionally used by »serious historians to depict the real world, they were able to underline the serious aspect of their genre

(also recognised by Aristotle) and possibly also to attract a wider group of readers (cf. Holzberg 1995, 42; also Morgan

1994, 4—5, Stephens 1994 and Mor-

gan 1997, 134, 136—7). Real and verifiable historical information is mixed with fables, fantasies, and stories by hearsay, and so the distinction between fact and

fiction is blurred (cf. Wilamowitz 1912, 98). It may well have been this kind of literature, with a writer like Phacnias as

a notorious example (cf. Henrichs 1999, 230—7), that provoked the Emperor Julian’s negative feelings expressed in his letter Epist. 89.301b (cf. , e.g., Morgan 1997, 132—133 and Holzberg 1996a, 17—8). In it Julian writes: Πρέποι Sav ἡμῖν ἱστορίαις ἐντυγχάνειν. ὁπόσαι συνεγράφησαν ἐπὶ πεποιημένοις τοῖς ἔργοις" 600. δέ ἐστιν ἐν ἱστορίας εἴδει παρὰ τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν ἀπηγγελμένα πλάσματα

παραιτητέον. ἐρωτικὰς ὑποθέσεις καὶ πάντα ἁπλῶς τὰ τοιαῦτα (»For us it will be appropriate to read such histories as have been written about deeds that

have actually occurred; but we must avoid all histories in the shape of plasinata (fictions: cf. infra n. 95) such as were circulated in the past, tales on Jove and all that kind of things«). Whether Julian’s views had any effect on the popularity of Ctesias, or to what extent Ctesias’ work kept its attraction because of its fashionable 4th century's Ionic/Attic, is, regrettably, not to be determined. 1.1.7 The indefinable

How then should we judge Ctesias’ work—-if we can judge it at all? The first part of the answer, starting both from Demetrius and Aristotle, should be that 90

R. Warner and G. Cawkwell, Xenophon. A History of my Times, Harmondsworth 19792, p. 43. Cf.

also Connor

1989 for a short and useful review of aims, methods, and results of 4th

century historians.

91

C£, however, Wilamowitz

1912, 98: »Ktesias hat den ersten historischen Roman geschrie-

bens, Jacoby 1922, 2064 describes Ctesias as »der Vater des historischen Romanse; cf. also Jacoby 1922, 2045.

48

1 The author and his sources

we can consider him as a, perhaps rather poor, »historian but primarily as a poet: in the sense of a »writer of historical »fiction«. Second, we should take into consideration the notion that the content of the Persica, at least up to a point, is likely to have been determined by the nature of the tradition which Ctesias encountered in Persia. Third, also because of its setting in Persia, that

one of Ctesias’ purposes may have been a didactic—or perhaps even moralizing-—one, as has been supposed for Xenophon's Cyropaedia.?? As in this work, the didactic element is veiled in a (quasi-)historical context: as such, this work, of course, has a historical dimension, too.

Finally, the political issues of the

day, including the increasing xenophobia which afflicted Greece from c. 450 onwards (v. infra), may have determined to some extent the scope and content of Ctesias’ work. As for the supposed didactic element of the Persica,” also Aristotle (Arist.

Poet.

YX.2-3 [=1451b4—8]) underlines this aspect of poetry:

ἀλλὰ τούτῳ

διαφέρει, τῷ τὸν μὲν τὰ γενόμενα λέγειν, τὸν δὲ οἷα ἂν γένοιτο. διὸ καὶ φιλοσοφώτερον καὶ σπουδαιότερον ποίησις ἱστορίας ἐστίν- ἡ μὲν γὰρ ποίησις μᾶλλον τὰ καθόλου, 7 δῖστορία τὰ καθἕκαστον λέγει. Ἔστιν δὲ καθόλου μέν, τῷ ποίῳ τὰ ποῖα ἄττα συμβαίνει λέγειν ἢ πράττειν κατὰ τὸ εἰκὸς ἢ

τὸ ἀναγκαῖον, οὗ στοχάζεται ἣ ποίησις ὀνόματα ἐπιτιθεμένη: (»But it differs in that one discusses what happened, the other what might happen. For this reason poetry is a more philosophical and more serious thing than history; poetry tends to speak of universals, history of particulars. A universal is the sort of thing that a certain kind of person may well say or do in accordance with probability or necessity—this is what poetry aims at, although it assigns names

[to the people]«: translation: Janko 1987, 12). A little further (Arist. Poet. IX.9—10 [-1451b30—36]) he is even more explicit: Δῆλον οὖν ἐκ τούτων ὅτι τὸν ποιητὴν μᾶλλον τῶν μύθων εἶναι δεῖ ποιητὴν ἢ τῶν μέτρων, ὅσῳ ποιητὴς κατὰ τὴν μίμησίν ἐστιν. μιμεῖται δὲ τὰς πράξεις. χἂν ἄρα συμβῇ γενόμενα ποιεῖν, οὐθὲν ἧττον ποιητής ἐστι: τῶν γὰρ γενομένων ἔνια οὐδὲν κωλύει τοιαῦτα εἶναι οἷα ἂν εἰκὸς γενέσθαι 92

93

[καὶ

I prefer to define »didactic« less narrowly than Due (1996, 583), who defines »didactic as »aimed at a rather narrow and well-defined audience«. Due considers the Cyropaedia to have been »directed at a wider, less specific audience and [to] have a large scale pedagogical aim, not to mention considerable entertainment value« (ibid.). Somewhat further she remarks that fundamentally, as already recognised by Cicero [Cic. Q.fr. 1.1.23], the Cyropaedia is not history or biography, but fiction in prose. Thus, according to modern terminology, it is a novel. It can be defined as an historical novel or as a pedagogical or educational novel« (Due 1996, 588). Cf. also the views of J. Tatum, Xenophon’s Imperial Fiction, Princeton, NJ 1989. It should, however, be remembered that also Herodotus! Histories contain elements which should be considered as »didactic« or even universal, like the story of Croesus, Solon, and

Cyrus (Hdt. 1.86-87). Cf. also Gomme, 1954, 86-7.

1.1

δυνατὰ γενέσθαι],» xo

Life and works of Ctesias

ὅ ἐκεῖνος αὐτῶν

49

ποιητής ἐστιν (So it is clear from

these arguments that a poet must be a composer of plots rather than of verses, insofar as he is a poet according to representation, and represents actions.

So

even if it turns out that he is representing things that happened, he is no less a poet; for there is nothing to prevent some of the things that have happened from being the sort of things that may happen according to probability, i.e.

that are possible, which is why he can make a poetic composition about them«: translation: Janko 1987, 13).% Poetry stands, thus, in between the writing of history and philosophy: its,

didactic, subject is not the particular but the universal. As such it is more »philosophical than historiography, but it presents the universal in a constructed line of particular events and not in the shape of a theoretical and systematic argumentation (cf. , e.g., Van der Ben/Bremer 1988, 112—113). Of course, the de-

tails may be fictitious, but they do not stand on their own: they act as elements of the presentation of the course of events (cf. also Von Fritz 1956, 117—123) and add to the element of didacticism. The Aristotelian >universal« (or, in other words,

the »matter:) that Ctesias

wants to make clear in the Persica is hard to reconstruct. It may have been that though kings ruled the world, these very kings themselves were governed by

divine intervention (whether or not in consequence of kingly hubris or hamartia) and, last but not least, by the eunuchs of the palace and/or the women at the court. To what extent it is a coincidence that the Persica was written in the period that the »vituperative xenophobia, and philosophy's theoretical justific-

ations of the pre-eminence of Greek culture« became evident around the turn of

the fourth century BC” is, unfortunately, not to be determined. As a matter of fact, the theory of Hellenic superiority over»barbarians (emphatically includ-

ing Persians) had already developed in a number of areas—e.g. tragedy, comedy, and Athenian law-—from the middle of the fifth century onwards (Hall 1991, passim, refined by Harrison 2000; also Isaac 2004, 257-303 and figs. 2-4).

Even in Herodotus’ Historiae it is already visible (cf. Lenfant 2004, cxxxiii—iv). A nice example of role-modelling may be seen in a Attic Red Figure calyx krater, dated c. 420 BC and now kept in the St. Petersburg State Hermitage mu-

seum (inv. nr. ST 1807): in the top level it depicts two goddesses, Eris (Strife) 94 Janko 1987, 93 ad 51b32 proposes to delete these words as does Gomme, 1954, 14 note 17. 95 Sextus Empiricus, writing in the second century AD, distinguished three kinds of narratives: history (historia), fiction (plasma), and myth (muthos). History is the presentation (ekthesis) of truth, the things that really took place, plasma that of things that did not actually happen but might have happened, and myth that of things that did not occur and are false (pseudé); he underlines, however (a consequence of his Pyrrhonist views), that people lack the ways and means to decisively distinguish history from fiction and/or myth: S.E. M. 1.263—9. 96

Cf. Hall 1991, x, though softened to some extent by Harrison 2000, passim; v. however, also Harrison 2002, passim.

so

1 The author and his sources

and Themis (Justice), Eris clothed in Oriental, Themis in Greek dress. Below these, Paris, about to give his judgment, is also depicted in Oriental dress, in-

cluding (Persian) trousers. It appears that the message to be conveyed was that all evil came from the East. To show the pernicious character of the Persian court (and implicitly to indicate Greek virtue: in a number of passages Ctesias is full of praise regarding the Spartans) may well have been a hidden »univer-

sal on Ctesias’ agenda (cf. also Sancisi-Weerdenburg 19872, passim; Lenfant 2004, cxxxiv—vii). As a matter of fact, Plutarch reproaches »philolaconism: in Ctesias: ἀλλὰ δαιμονίως ὁ Κτησίας, ὡς ἔοικε, φιλότιμος ὧν καὶ οὐχ ἧττον φιλολάκων καὶ φιλοκλέαρχος ... πολλὰ καὶ καλὰ μεμνήσεται Ἰζλεάρχου

καὶ τῆς Λακεδαίμονος (»But clearly is Ctesias very ambitious and none the less partial to Sparta and to Clearchus” ... [and] he will bring forward many fine things regarding Clearchus and Sparta« [Plu. Art. XIII.4]). How Ctesias alleged philolaconism may be reconciled with his position as intermediary to bring Conon and the Persian king together, a coalition which proved itself to be quite harmful for the Lacedaemonians, is not immediately obvious. We should, though, remember that Sparta was internally divided on matters of foreign politics at that time (cf. Stronk 1990-1, 118—120, 130—2). Ctesias’ action may ultimately have had benefits for one of the factions involved. Plutarch's testimony might lead us to suppose that Ctesias, whenever pos-

sible, follows a Spartiate source and tradition. In fact, Ctesias does not appear at all to be an overdevoted partisan of the Spartans (cf. Eck 1990, 416—7). He seems to have adapted himself cautiously to the political reality of the moment that he wrote his work: he merely reflects the dominant ideology. Above we

already hinted at Ctesias' role as intermediary between Conon and Artaxerxes II. We should, on the other hand, take into account that, though Cnidus was a

member of the Athenian confederacy between 479—412 BC, generally paying a contribution of 3 to 5 talents a year, there also existed strong ties between Sparta and Ctesias’ home town of Cnidus. Moreover, the Spartan Clearchus, during

their meetings in his captivity, may well have influenced Ctesias’ views on the developments in Greece between, say, 412 and 401 or even before. Schamp (1987, 157) has a similar (though somewhat wider) view: he claims that Ctesias’ choice of words, certainly considering Cyrus the Younger, shows a philhellenic tendency (probably because he had to show his colours after his return into the Greek world). On the other hand we may notice Lucian's remark: τοῦ δὴ συγγραφέως ἔργον Ev, ὡς ἐπράχθη. εἰπεῖν: τοῦτο δ᾽ οὐκ ἂν δύναιτο ἄχρι 97

Clearchus, an exiled Spartan, was one of the generals to support Cyrus the Younger during

his attempt to revolt against his brother, King Artaxerxes II. Some time after the battle of Cunaxa, where Cyrus was killed, Clearchus was among the (5) generals who were captured by the Persian satrap Tissaphernes. Plutarch states (Plu. Art. XVIII.3) that Ctesias testifies that Clearchus was afterwards killed in Babylon by Artaxerxes’ orders.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

51

ἂν ἢ φοβῆται Ἀρταξέρξην ἰατρὸς αὐτοῦ ὦν. ἢ ἐλπίζη κάνδυν πορφυροῦν καὶ στρεπτὸν χρυσοῦν καὶ ἵππον τῶν Νισαίων λήψεσθαι μισθὸν τῶν ἐν τῇ γραφῇ

ἐπαίνων (va historian's only task is to tell what happened; he will not be able to do so as long as he is afraid of Artaxerxes, whose physician he is, or hopes to get a purple robe, a golden collar, and a Nisacan horse as his wage for the eulogies

in the writings«).”

Two authors, living not very far apart (Lucian was born in the year Plutarch died, sc. AD 120), but two very different judgements regarding Ctesias’ parti-

ality. Since we do not have the complete Persica, we are unable to tell which author's judgement we understand better. Since Ctesias only started to write his Persica after he had returned into the Greek world all we can say is that this jeer at Ctesias by Lucian is likely to be unjust (see also infra, note 99). That does

not preclude that parts of the Persica may well have put Persia in a more or less favourable light. A change in political situation may very well have led to an-

other appreciation of the situation. The altered situation demanded an altered translation of the image of the vother;, to strengthen the image of the »self«.

The exigencies of the political situation of the day may well have contributed to a different—or at least more accentuated—judgement of both Herodotus’ Historiae and, here of course more relevant, Ctesias’ Persica by Lucian.” The circumstances in which Lucian wrote the Quomodo Historia Conscribenda Sit should

be a permanent reminder to modern historians and philologists that a judgement regarding an ancient text (or fragment) may as much present a technical evaluation of that text as it reflects the values and circumstances of the day,

whether they are expressly elaborated or concealed. At least it requires some attention. 1.1.8 Ctesias in the balance

Though Jacoby must have spent some time with Ctesias’ work, he obviously did not come to like it but, on the contrary, was quite damning about it. To

a large extent this may have been caused by his training. Like, e.g., his contemporary Eduard Schwartz, Felix Jacoby primarily focused on two partic- | ular and partly overlapping fields of research, sc. »Quelleuforschutig« and »Textkritik all in line with the type of approach to classical sources and their authors

that had been shaped by Gottfried Hermann (1772-1848), Barthold Georg Niebuhr (1776-1831), Franz Leopold Ranke (1795-1886; from 1865: von Ranke), Hermann Alexander Diels (1848—1922), and their followers (cf. Green 2006, 33—4 regarding criticism on Diodorus). Taking the literature belonging 08

Luc. Hist. Conscr. 39.

99

Lucian wrote his work How to Write History in the years AD 162-5, when Rome fought the Parthian War against King Vologesus III.

52

] The author and his sources

to the standard curriculum more or less as their starting point, their criticism (elo-

quently worded in, e.g., their contributions to the RE) on authors select category was frequently harsh, too harsh. However, to be included in the curriculum were also often treated with little more What they took insufficiently into account were the circumstances

outside that fair, authors distinction. of the times

in which the authors composed their works, the possibilities of the ancient authors to have access to sources, and the very nature of those sources. In view of

these considerations I agree with Brown's view (Brown 1973, 85): »Yet Jacoby is not entirely fair«. Jacoby's judgement may moreover also have been a (logical) reflection of his opinion on Ctesias' character (Jacoby 1922, 2045), though there is probably a certain interaction between both aspects. I think, if only because of the presumption of subjectivity, that Jacoby's judgement should be questioned. As we have shown time and again, our evidence of Ctesias is indirect, i.e. transmitted to us through other writers.

Even the statement that »das ein-

stimmige Urteil des Altertums ihn als unzuverlässig verdammt hat« (Jacoby 1922, 2046), may not tempt us to accept that verdict on face value without further research.'”

The judgement of antiquity appears, on the contrary, to

have been less uniform than Jacoby suggests, if we only look at the number of times (some forty) Ctesias is quoted as authority by other writers (apart from the main transmitters), as early as Xenophon and as late as Tzetzes (cf. Jacoby, FGrH No.

688, ley; 9a; ), though the latter's quotations may, in fact, have

been indirect (cf. infra 1.2.5, p. 149, note 90; cf. also Lenfant 2004, elxvi-ii). Jacoby's views mark a turning point in the evaluation of Ctesias. In his in-

troduction to the first three books of Herodotus, Sayce wrote the following passage on Ctesias which I, in spite of its length, will quote (almost) in full. »In the first place, then, it is quite clear that Ktésias really based his history on Persian materials. The greater part of his Assyrian history consists of AssyroBabylonian myths rationalised and transformed in the manner peculiar to the Persians, of which Herodotos gives us an illustration in the legend of Ió. Semi-

ramis is the Assyrian Aphrodite, Ninos and Ninyas are Nineveh and its inhabitants; ... In the second place, when we come to Persian history, we find several

statements made by Ktésias which disagree with those of other classical authorities, but have been unexpectedly verified by recent discoveries. Thus he makes the reign of Dareios last only thirty-one (or thirty-two) years, the real length of it according to the Babylonian contract-tablets, which place his accession in

B.C. 517. On the other hand, there are other assertions which are shown to be untrue, as, for example, that the Magian usurpation did not take place until 100 [t appears that 1.V. P'jankov, Cpenmas Aaua

vanectnax auraunoro ucropuka Krecus (Central

Asia in the investigations of the ancient historian Ctesias), IlymanGe (Dushanbe) 1975, 30—1 presents

a summary of ancient judgements: cf. Gardiner-Garden 1987, 2 note 6. I have not been able to consult P'jankov's book.

1.1

Life and works of Ctesias

53

after the death of Kambysés. On this point Herodotos was in the right. But it

must be remembered that the loss of the original works of Ktésias makes it difficult to deterinine how far he has reported his authorities correctly, or yielded

to the desire of contradicting Herodotos at the expense of truth. At any rate it is certain that he was justified in claiming for his history the authority of Per-

sian documents, and that many of the charges of falsehood brought against him must be laid, not upon him, but upon his eastern friends. His history of Assyria is much like the Egyptian history of medizval Arab writers, clothed only in a Greek dress« (Sayce 1883, xxxiii).

Also in antiquity views on Ctesias have, contrary to Jacoby's judgement,

differed as is shown by the various remarks accompanying many of the fragments. Appreciation of Ctesias seems to be a fickle phenomenon. There is, e.g., one classical author from the second century AD, Aulus Gellius, who is

all but dismissive of Ctesias: Erant autem isti omnes libri Graeci miraculorum fabularumque pleni, res inauditae, incredulae, scriptores veteres non parvae auctoritatis: Aristeas Proconnesius et Isigonus Nicaeensis et Ctesias et Onesicritus et Philostephanus et

Hegesias;

... Now all these books were in Greek, filled with marvellous tales,

things unheard of, incredible; but the writers were ancient and of no mean authority [my emphasis, JPS] : Aristeas of Proconnesus, Isigonus of Nicaea, Ctesias and

Onesicritus, Philostephanus and Hegesias«: Gell. IX.iv.3). A clear statement against Ctesias is, on the other hand, to be found in Plutarch's Life of Artaxerxes

(v. infra p. 99 sqq.): nevertheless the sage from Chaeronea relied at least to some extent on data provided by Ctesias for this bios. As it is, Jacoby's negative views on Ctesias have had a tremendous impact

on the appreciation of Ctesias during the XXth (and early XXIth) century.'°' In recent literature, however, there is also a tendency to take a more balanced view regarding Ctesias. I think a view as held by, e.g., Forsdyke e.a. is less one-sided (cf. supra p. 31—2). A good example of the modern historical attitude towards Ctesias is the approach taken by Bigwood. Without attempting to conceal Ctesias’ blatant blunders, like the transposition of the battles of Salamis and Plataea (cf. Bigwood 1978, 19), she tries to distinguish parts of genuine information from parts based on fantasy, be it Ctesias’ own or that of his inform-

ers (or transmitters?). Her final judgement on Ctesias as an historian (my italics, JPS) remains, nevertheless, negative. Somewhat more positive, certainly as regards the Persica, is the judgement of Brown, who states that Ctesias is unreliable on the details of political history, but that he reflects the atmosphere of life at

court. Nevertheless he concludes: »We are forced to agree substantially with

Jacoby's evaluation of the Persica as»something in between a historical work and 101 Cf., e.g., the remarks of Burn 1962, 11—13; cf. for a convenient, though limited, review of modern writers on Ctesias: Bigwood 1976 and n.1; also Bigwood 1978 and n. 3; also Brown 1978 and Eck 1990. Cf. also Gardiner-Garden 1987, 2 and note 7.

1 The author and his sources

54

a novel-— yet not a historical novel« (Brown 1973, 86). The verdict of Maria Brosius is more positive: »Ctesias’ history has been proved to be correct on vari-

ous aspects of Persian politics« (Brosius 2000, xx). The same goes for Lenfant’s judgement (Lenfant 2004, cxxiii—iv), though she, too, remains critical in the end (Lenfant 2004, cxxiv—vii). It seems time to redress the balance in favour of Ctesias once again. I will try to do so by critically setting up his text in Greek, as complete as possible (though, being an editio minor, without apparatus criticus), a translation, and a commentary. I will explain my aim and method in section 3, infra; my choices

for the text I will present in Chapter III. Before we can start that process we will, however, need to have a closer look at the main transmitters of Ctesias, to

establish whether, and ifso in what way, they—or the course of history — (may) have affected the text as we have it today (cf. supra p. 3, note 6, the works of Pfeiffer and especially Hardwick and p. 35—6 regarding the work of Mülke

2008).!

Perhaps by looking in a wider historiographical context at the (main) transmitters, their views, and their world, we will be able to acquire a more coherent

and complete understanding of this fascinating author—and the way his work

has come to us. 1.2

Previous editions of Ctesias’ Persica

The earliest editions of (parts of ) Ctesias that I have been able to trace, go back to

the middle of the XVIth century. The first dates from 1557: Ex Ctesia, Agatharchide, Memnone Excerptae historiae: Appiani Iberica: item de gestis Annibalis/ omnia nunc pr. edita cum Henrici Stephani castigationibus.' Though the place where this

book was published is not mentioried on the front page, one can gather from the context that it appeared at Geneva. It contains some of the codices'** copied by

Estienne from the Photius-manuscripts (and regarding Ctesias no other texts) kept in the Biblioteca Marciana during his visit to Venice in 1555. scription, manuscript X in the stemmata, is nowadays known

This tran-

as MS.

Harley

5591—5593 and kept in the British Library in London (cf. Wilson 1994, 20). Its basis appears to have been manuscript M (copied by two hands, X* for Photius' codices 1-128, Xb for codices 129—222 and 228—229), completed and collated 102 The »minor transmitters: I shall discuss separately—the first time a work of the author in question is relevant to complete the picture of Ctesias’ text—in part II, the commentary. The text of POxy. 2330 I shall discuss in detail in Chapter III ad 8b. 103 Henricus Stephanus, the Latinized form of Henri Estienne, lived from 1528—1598. He is also known as Etienne Henri Stephanus, Henry Estienne, and Henri Etienne.

104 See for the meaning of this word in this context infra, 1.2.4.1 sub F, p. 130.

1.2

Previous editions of Ctesias’ Persica

$$

on the basis of A by Estienne himself (the third hand, Xc: Henry, Photius, I, xxxvii-xxxviii).'^? According to Photius, Ctesias was: »Nearly in everything in opposition with Herodotus, and even accusing him of mendacity and calling him a creator of

stories« (Phot. Bibl. [72] 35b41-36a1). It need, therefore, not surprise that a number of editions of Herodotus go with an addendum, containing Ctesias’ story. The first combination of the two I could find is from 1566: Herodoti Halicarnassei historiae libri IX & de vita Homeri libellus ... Ex Ctesia excerptae historiae . . . excudebat Henricus Stephanus. The excerpts mentioned in the title are in fact a text with translation in Latin of Photius' epitomes of Ctesias (both from the Persica and the Indica), which Estienne had copied at Venice, but (again) no additional texts.

Nevertheless, Gilmore (1888, 6) considers this edition as

the editio princeps of Ctesias.'"^ Estienne presents himself on the front page as illustris viri Huldrichi Fuggeri typographus. Unfortunately the place where this book was published remains unmentioned, too. Since, however, Estienne also

prepared an edition of Diodorus Siculus which he dedicated to Ulrich Fugger (1528—1584) at Geneva, I suppose that the origin of this combined edition of Herodotus and Ctesias should be located at Geneva as well. Another combination of Herodotus and Ctesias (again with the translation into Latin of Photius' epitomes) was published at Frankfurt in 1584, and again in 1595 (publisher: Andreas Wechel heirs). In 1608 appeared a Herodoti Historiarum Libri IX, IX Musarum nominibus inscripti et eiusdem narratio de vita Homeri, ... Excerpta à Ctesiae libris de rebus Persicis & Indicis. . . ; editio adornata opera & studio Gotho-

fredi Iungermani (= Gottfried Jungermann, 1577-1610), published at Frankfurt (Claud. Marnium and Jo. Aubrii heirs), a Greek-Latin parallel-edition of Herodotus adorned with woodcuts, to which i.a. also Ctesias' fragments from Photius as well as six testimonia and over 100 other fragments of Ctesias were added. In the 2nd half of the XVIIIth century, in 1763 at Amsterdam (Petrus Schouten (1744—1788): svmptibus Petri Schovtenii) and Utrecht (Willem Jan Reers [1731—1788]) Pieter (Petrus) Wesseling (1692-1764) and Lodewijk Caspar Valckenaer (1715—1785) edited their Herodoti et Ctesiae quae extant opera et fragmenta. This edition (also known by different titles, the commonest being: Herodoti Halicarnassei Historiarum libri IX, musarum nominibus inscripti ..., acce-

dunt . . . excerpta et praesertim ex Ctesia) would remain one of the most important until c. 1850 (in spite of an edition in 1823 at Góttingen, still largely based on 105 For the Photius manuscripts from the Marciana v. infra chapter 1.2.4.2. 106 In his 1570 edition of this work Estienne added 10 fragments taken from Plutarch, Athenaeus,

and Demetrius, augmented by an additional 7 fragments in his 1594 edition.

56

1 The author and his sources

the work of Estienne'”), especially due to the Herodotus part. It displays the Greek text and its translation into Latin on opposing pages. A remarkable edition was published by Joannes Christianus Felix Bähr (1786—1872) at Frankfurt/Main in 1824: Ctesiae Cnidii operum reliquiae: fragmenta collegit, textum e codd. recognovit, prolegomena et perpetua annotatione instruxit indicesque adiecit —. This edition did not limit Ctesias’ fragments to Photius’ excerpts, but also included fragments of Ctesias found in Diodorus. However, in

Gilmore's words (as regards the Persica), it »is characterized by ἃ confusion of arrangement which is perfectly marvellous: for instance, the first six books of the Persika are placed at the end of the volume, and there are two distinct numberings of the fragments, one or two of which appear twice« (Gilmore 1888, 6; cf. _

also Lenfant 2004, clxix and her note 685). Three years later Heinrich Christian

Michael Rettig published his Ctesiae Cnidii vita cum appendice de libris quos Ctesias composuisse fertur at Hannover (Hanoverae). The description of Ctesias in this book is, to say the least, not very flattering. The review of fragments is useful

but not very comprehensive. In 1844 Karl (also known as Carl or Carolus) Müller (1813—1894) published, at Paris (judging by the printing edited by Didot: this information is lacking in my copy), the Ctesiae Cnidii et Chronographorum Castoris, Eratosthenis, Etc. Frag-

menta; dissertatione et notis illustrate a —. It is an edition in which not only Photius’ epitomes but also fragments preserved in Diodorus and other classical authors are presented. In the same year Müller presented the Ctesiae Cnidii ... Fragmenta as an addendum to the Herodotus edition by Wilhelm Dindorf (1802-1883), pub-

lished by Didot at Paris (and several times reprinted: the Dutch Central Catalogue [NCC] counts four reprints): Gilmore (1888, 6) considered this edition »superior in printing and arrangement« (though he resented the combination of Ctesias’ fragments with a complete Herodotus edition). For many years this

1844 edition was the basic edition for the study of Ctesias, the more so since the edition of Photius’ Bibliotheca in the Patrologia Graeca (Migne, Vols. 103 and

104, Paris 1860) contains too many mistakes (partly copied from Bekker, v. infra p. 147, partly new ones) and misspellings to be useful as scientific edition and is limited to Photius' epitomes. It is surprising that Müller omitted Ctesias from his own Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, Paris 1841-1870 [repr.

1883—1885; repr.

Frankfurt/Main

1975]. For the English speaking world John Gilmore edited The Fragments of the Persika of Ktesias, with Introduction and Notes (London 1888):'** it consisted of 107 Ctesiae Cnidii Quae Supersunt . . . cum interpretatione latina Henrici Stephani aliorumque et annotationibus Henrici Stephani, Hoeschelii, Schotti, Gronovii, aliorumque, quibus suas atque indices copiosissimos adiecit Albertus Lion, Gottingae (apud Vandenhoeck et Ruprecht) 1823.

108 In some library catalogues, including the Dutch central catalogue NCC, the year of publication is mistakenly indicated as 1880.

1.3

Aim and method

57

Diodorus’ story and the epitome by Photius, garnished with supporting fragments including some of Nicholas and Plutarch as well as originating from

minor: transmitters. To this he added some introductory chapters and a commentary based upon the latest Oriental research to that date. Considering the circumstances, Gilmore presented a near exemplary edition that was, as the title indicates, entirely focused on the Persica.

In the later part of the X Xth century the most widely used edition of Ctesias'

works was the one by Felix Jacoby in the Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, vol. III C, No. 688 (Leiden: Brill, 1958). Janick Auberger's Ciesias. Traduit et commenté par — (Paris 1991) is largely a translation of Jacoby's fragments, provided with a preface by Charles Malamoud.'” Friedrich Wilhelm Kónig's, Die Persika des Ktesias von Knidos, Graz 1972, is not really a critical edition: it is basically Photius' text of the Persica with a translation into German, augmented by fragments found in Nicholas, Diodorus, Plutarch, and others, and completed with some (sometimes useful and illuminating) comments. Nevertheless it, too,

counts a number of errors in the text (cf. also Lenfant 2004, cciii-iv). I cannot agree with MacGinnis' view (MacGinnis 1988, 37) describing Kénig’s as »an excellent edition of these excerpts«.

Recently Dominique Lenfant has presented a new edition, Ctésias de Cnide. La Perse, l' Inde, autres fragments (Paris 2004, Ed. Les belles lettres, Association

Guillaume Budé) which includes, as regards the Persica, the fragments by Diodorus, Nicholas, Plutarch, Photius, the minor transmitters as well as an intro-

duction, a summary commentary, and a translation into French. This erudite edition is a landmark in Ctesian studies and may, in my opinion, be regarded as

the obvious editio maior for anyone studying the Persica and Ctesias’ other works. 1.3 Aim and method What is, then, given the scholarly editions by Jacoby and Lenfant, the reason

that I want to publish yet another edition of the Persica? The first is that since the publication of the FGrH several new editions of relevant works have ap-

peared. The first to be mentioned is a new edition, by R. Henry, of Photius’ Bibliotheca or Myriobiblion (Paris 1959-1978: referred to as Henry, Photius, followed by the number of the volume in Roman capitals). He used i.a. a manu-

script that generally has not been used before (except by Bekker) to constitute the text: the codex Marcianusgr. 450 (= manuscript A). Like his edition of 1947 of Photius' epitomes of Ctesias, also this edition of Photius' complete Bibliotheca 109 The preface is not very flattering, as its title »Unc forme d'exotisme: l'absence d'histoire« may indicate: it is, however, though the Persica is described briefly, mainly focused on the Indica.

58

1 The author and his sources

is unfortunately marred by many errors: Lenfant 2004, cxcviii—-cc presents an account of them and, rightly, concludes that, certainly as regards Ctesias, Jacoby’s text is to be preferred. This edition, however, presents a useful insight in

the way Photius worked and if only because of that is of eminent importance: it is, moreover, an element that is largely neglected in Lenfant's edition.

The

second isa new edition by Chamoux and Bertrac of Diodorus of Sicily, "? which has been published in Paris (Éditions »Les Belles Lettres«/Association Guillaume Budé), replacing the Teubner edition that has served for over a century. In the same series a new edition of Plutarch's Lives has been prepared under the direction of R. Flaceliére, ἢ. Chambry, and M. Juneaux (Paris 1957-1979): the Life of Artaxerxes in this series we find in Plutarque, Vies, T. XV, edited by R.

Flaceliére and É. Chambry, Paris 1979. Finally, also P.Oxy.

2330 has resur-

faced. A new collation of this text was presented by Rosa Giannattasio Andria in 2003, but for this edition I also collated this fragment myself. The second reason for a new edition is that, though Jacoby presents Nicholas’ fragments separately (and states in his commentary that, e.g., F. 66 is completely

Ctesias, and some other fragments at least based on Ctesias: cf. also Lenfant 2000, 293—318), he completely omits Nicholas' fragments in his collection of

Ctesias. It is the consequence of his policy to incorporate only those fragments

that are, more or less, directly ascribed to, in this case, Ctesias by the writer at

hand: by doing so, Jacoby passed over a number of fragments that might well

have come from Ctesias (or at least inspired by or based upon him). We will discuss those fragments while accounting for the text in Chapter III.

Many if not most of these problems were already (partly) solved by the edition of Lenfant (I shall, obviously, frequently refer to her edition). Yet Iam not

completely satisfied: all editions so far lack a comprehensive story of, essen-

tially, the Persica through the ages, from its conception until its final disappearance, in a historical context. Most important, it has not yet been attempted,

as far as I know, to furnish Ctesias’ story with something more than an elementary (historical) commentary, apart from Gilmore (but since 1888 scholar-

ship in Oriental research has enormously evolved) and some remarks by Kónig and Lenfant (though her historical comments are to a large extent not directly linked with specific passages throughout the text but concentrated in her »noticex [Lenfant 2004, xl-cxxiii]). I believe that this work-—I will limit my edi-

tion strictly to the Persica and will not even incorporate the several testimonia: for them I have to refer to Lenfant's edition (more comprehensive than Jacoby's)—of such an interesting and controversial author deserves it to get its 110 Further referred to as Diodore, followed by the volume number in Roman numerals and the

year of publication of that volume and preceded by the name(s) of the editor(s)/translator(s) of that volume c.g. the writers of the general introduction (in: Diodore, I, 1993).

1.3

Aim and method

59

own covers. A short introduction, text, and translation are insufficient to fully

appreciate Ctesias’ position in Greek literary-historiographical-tradition as well as his value for students of both Greek and Persian history. During my attempt to present a comprehensive and reliable text of Ctesias’

Persica I shall of course start from the foundations laid both by Jacoby and Lenfant. Apart from these two texts I shall use botli the recent Budé editions of Diodorus and Plutarch, the Teubner edition of both authors, occasionally the relevant volumes from the Loeb series, P.Oxy. 2330 as collated by myself, the FGrH No. 90, FE 1 to Ε 5 inclusive and F. 66, and improved by Lenfant (cf. Lenfant 2004, cxcvi), for the text of Nicholas of Damascus (better than the texts

as edited by De Boor and Büttner-Wobst), and the Photius-edition by Henry for the main transmitters.

As for the minor transmitters, I will use the avail-

able editiones maiores wherever possible next to the texts of Jacoby and Lenfant. Wherever I will deviate from their [J.'s & L.’s, JPS] text I will explain why I do so (mainly in chapter 1.3), and when these two differ I will indicate my choice

to follow one (or neither) of them.

By adopting this method I hope to shunt

the problems connected with an apparatus criticus without avoiding the burden

to explain my choices. As may have appeared from the preceding pages, it will be frequently necessary to compare the text attributed to Ctesias with Herodotus’. Whenever I have to refer to, or quote, Herodotus’ text I will use the edition by Karl (Car-

olus) Hude (1860-1936) in the OCT series, 3rd edition, Oxford 1958-1960. As for Xenophon: there, too, I will use the relevant OCT editions, edited by Edgar Cardew Marchant (1864—1960).

2 [he main transmitters Within the framework of the Persica’s history we now first have to involve ourselves more deeply (and in one case even at great length) with the backgrounds, lives, views, and methods of Diodorus of Sicily, Nicholas (Nicolaus) of Damascus, Plutarch of Chaeronea, and Photius of Constantinople, as they

are our main sources. This approach enables us at the same time both to recon-

struct (part of) the vicissitudes of Ctesias’ work throughout the centuries and

to attempt an assessment why and how different writers used the Persica as a

source for their own work.

2.1 2.1.1

Diodorus of Sicily

Life and works of Diodorus

A. Life Almost all that is known about Diodorus’ personal life derives from allusions

within his own work. Born and raised in the Sicilian town of Agyrion (I.iv.4),'

he visited Egypt in 60/59 BC and may have remained there until 56. Although he claims to have travelled throughout Asia and Europe, there is no further indication that he did so. At least it is certain that he, for instance, never visited the

place where Nineveh once stood (Sacks 1990, 161 and note 2). The only other

specific reference to a foreign journey is to Rome. Diodorus may have gone there directly from Egypt, in or around 56. The inclusion of a minor detail, which is possibly based upon personal observation, indicates that he may have

been in that city by 46 or 45. In that year he probably started to write the pre-

face to the Βιβλιοθήκη ἱστορική (Bibliotheca historica). In XII.xxvi.1 he remarks that the bronze tables were affixed to the rostra sthen« in front of the Curia: in 45/4 new rostra were planned and completed at the west end of the Forum by Caesar. Diodorus may have witnessed this event. He notes that he remained in Rome for along while. The Bibliotheca was probably finished in about 30. Sacks

assumes that it is unlikely that Diodorus lived much past the turn of the century (Sacks 1990, 161). Chamoux/Bertrac (Diodore, 1, viii) think he may have died already in about 30. It may or may not be a coincidence that a funeral stele (of ı

1 Chamoux/Bertrac (Diodore, I, 1993, viii) estimate that Diodorus was born about 90.

2.1 Diodorus of Sicily

61

unknown date) was found in Agyrion, bearing the text »Diodorus, son of Apollonius« (IG XIV, 588). Though the editors of the IG originally were tempted to attribute the stele to our writer, we must, if only based upon the register of the SEG, acknowledge that Diodorus was quite

a common

name and that the

attribution cannot be certain.

Diodorus’ remark that he originated from Sicilian Agyrion helps us but little further. Like many Sicilian cities during the late Republic, it may well have been on the decline. It was situated at what is now Agira, on the northern ridge of the

exceptionally fertile eastern plain, and watered by the Chrysas River (modern Dittaino).

The site was well located for commerce, lying on the central route

from Katana to Panormus (= Palermo) and connected by road to Morgantina. Timoleon is said to have settled sten thousand: Greek colonists in Agyrion (D.S. XVI. Ixxxii.5, Ixxxiii.3; Sacks 1990, 165). This number may well be exagger-

ated by Sacks: it may be more appropriate to read for μυρίοι (murioi) instead of sten thousand«»very many: (cf. for a similar situation at Calpes Limen in Xenophon's Anabasis, Stronk 1995, 80).

Diodorus himselfis likely to have been quite well off. He travelled to Egypt and met there with priests and embassies (D.S. III.xi.3) and longed period at Rome. Nothing suggests that he earned Rome by tutoring, as most other Greek intellectuals had to the middle class (D.S. I.1xxiv.7) suggests wealth, though he

remained for a prohimself a living in do. His criticism of may well have been

less hostile to democracy than he is usually portrayed. It is, however, his preju-

dice that masses—as they are easily swayed— facilitate the rise of demagogues in democracies (Sacks 1990, 167 and note 39). Both his travels and his political sentiments suggest he enjoyed independent wealth. Despite this, Diodorus does

not appear to have socialised with Romans of his social class. Another notable exception to that rule was Nicholas of Damascus, who had easy access to the most powerful men in the early Principate, but was criticized for maintaining a philosophical distance from Roman society (cf. Jacoby, FGrH No. 90 F. 138). During his stay at Rome Diodorus may well have kept in touch with Sicily and Sicilians. He may even have returned there incidentally, as XVI.1xx.6, a detail possibly referring to the ins Latii that is to be dated between 44 and 36, might suggest (cf. also Sacks 1990, 162 and note 6). By that time the island had become a cultural backwater. It had been the major battleground during the first Punic War and by degrees had become a Roman province. Apart from the payment of a yearly tithe and harbour and pasture taxes during the late Republic, Sicily suffered from bloody slave revolts, uneven administration,

and finally the excesses of Verres (Diodorus grew up during the rule of Verres).

Octavian's sustained campaign to establish his power over Sicily, where Sextus Pompeius Magnus opposed him with great military skill, and his (= Octavian) harsh conquest and punishing measures, finally, were particularly devastating.

62

2

The main

transmitters

Some anti-Roman bias on Diodorus’ part would be understandable. In this he would resemble Philinus, who went anti-Roman after the destruction by the Romans of his town of Akragas during the first Punic War. If, however, Diodorus harboured anti-Roman feelings, he had, living in Rome as he did,

to be extremely careful. It may have been one of the reasons that he may have stopped his historical narrative at 60, as is generally assumed nowadays, instead

of pursuing it to about 45 as he (may have) indicated in his introduction.’ B. The Βιβλιοθήκη ἱστορική (Historical library) As far as we know the Βιβλιοθήχη ἱστορική (hereafter: Bibliotheca) has been the only work written by Diodorus. Its book II, chapters i-xxxiv, has (allegedly, v. infra) preserved most of what we know about the first six books of Ctesias’ Per-

sica, containing the history of what Ctesias called the Assyrians’ and the Medes. Diodorus relates in those chapters part of Ctesias' record of the fabulous origins

of Nineveh and Babylon and the establishment ofan Assyrian Empire. He continues with the Median revolt, followed by the destruction of Nineveh and its

sequel in a Median Empire (cf. , however, supra Ch. 1.1, note 63), and the defeat of the Medes by the Persians. Also in later books, discussing events in the Near

East, Diodorus occasionally used Ctesias as source of information.* The real value of Diodorus Siculus' βιβλιοθήκη ἱστοριυκή has been debated by scholars for many years. The very title ofthe work indicates that little more is to be expected than a convenient compilation of earlier historical writings. And

in spite of the noble declarations in his introduction, Diodorus seems generally to have achieved little more than this. Scarcely ever is he credited with any ori2.

Cf.

also the Introduction by C.H. Oldfather to the Loeb edition of Diodorus, vol.

(= Oldfather 1968), xv and xix.

I

D.S. Lv.1 enumerates the years of the periods he sets out

to describe. From the first Olympiad to the events described at the end of his work he counts 730 years: it means that he might relate events as late as 46/5. However, in this same chapter he states that he will end his story with the beginning of the Celtic campaign (7 Gallic War) of Julius Caesar in 60/59. The problem is further complicated by remaining fragments. If we look at the summary of Diodorus in Photius’ Bibliotheca, especially in codex 244, lines 393a12—393b5, we see that these lines summarize events after 60: the struggle between Pompey the Great and Julius Caesar is mentioned, Pompey's murder at Alexandria, Caesar's rule and murder by Brutus and Cassius, as well as the resulting civil war ending with Augustus’ achieving absolute power. It appears that Diodorus continued his story after all until at least 45. Why, then, are these fragments omitted from modern editions? The answer is, quite simply: because Wesseling has ruled them to be not authentic. Only in 1983 Paula Botteri has reopened the discussion (Arbitraire d'un éditeur et extraits disparus: Photius, 244, Diodore de Sicile« MEFR, serie I, Autiquité, 1983,2, 665—76). Cf. also Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, 3

I, cxxxiii. The ancient (Greek) historians did, as already stated before, not distinguish between Babylo-

4

Ν. infra, sub C.

nians and Assyrians: cf. also Forsdyke 1956, 70.

2.1

Diodorus of Sicily

63

ginality« (Burton 1972, 1).* This verdict reflects the judgement on Diodorus in the Real- Encyclopádie by Schwartz, who states: »Nur ein günstiger Zufall kann

einem solchen Buch zur Fortdauer verhelfen. Kein gebildeter Heide citiert D. jemals; Plinius erwähnt nur den Titel; erst die Christen waren anspruchslos genug, ihn heranzuziehen...« (Schwartz 1905, 663—4). That is quite a number of value judgements in only a few sentences. Schwartz’s opinion appears to

have been based upon the Quellenforschung as it had been applied to Diodorus

by Niebuhr and his successors (cf. Green 2006, 33—4). His work made it fashionable to depict Diodorus undeservedly as a naive »Dummkopfe, a fashion one even encounters today (cf., e.g., J. Hornblower, Hieronymus of Cardia, Oxford

1981, 19).

Of the forty books of which Diodorus' Bibliotheca originally consisted, only fifteen are completely extant (books I- V and XI-XX), with most of the others surviving in various fragmentary

states.

It is reported by Constantine

Las-

caris (1434—1501) that he had seen a copy of the complete Bibliotheca of Diodorus, perhaps (one of) the last remaining, in the imperial library before Constantinople fell in 1453 to the Turks (Constatinus Lascaris, De Scriptoribus Graecis

Patria Siculis 9, in: Migne, PG, t. 161 c. 198; cf. Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 72). The Bibliotheca's claim to universality is established by its range, both geographic and chronological. Along with the myths of the barbarians and Greeks, it covers the affairs of mainland Greece, Sicily, Rome, and surrounding areas, from the time of the Trojan War until (supposedly, v. supra note 2) 60 (cf. Sacks 1990, 3).

Many of the sources used by Diodorus are now (sadly) lost. Diodorus' important contribution to our knowledge is that he preserved various historical traditions. An important problem is, however, that in his later books Diodorus reveals himselfas an inaccurate and uncritical excerpter,

using his sources without judgement, and occasionally duplicating events and information (Burton 1972, 2; coutra: Oldfather 1968, xxi, xxiii). Certainly in his later books Diodorus represents, regarding Greek history and relations, a 5.

The most important books and articles on Diodorus are presented in Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, Livre I, 1993, vii: note bibliographique. A more extensive bibliography may be found in Sacks 1990, 213 —230.

6

Schwartz was not the only one who thought so negatively on Diodorus. Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, 1, 1993, xxi and notes 47 and 48 quote some nasty remarks on Diodorus by Th.

7

Monmmnsen (commented upon by Chamoux/Bertrac as a »jugement cruels) and Wilamowitz, who describes Diodorus as »ein so miserabeler Skribent.« The lament of the first line of the final paragraph of chapter seven of The Love of Books, being the Philobiblon of Richard de Bury, translated from the Latin and ed. by E.C. Thomas, London

1888 [repr. London 1925], 51—2, comes, here as well on many other occasions, to mind: »But in truth infinite are the losses which have been inflicted upon the race of books by wars and tumults«. Richard de Bury, bishop of Durham, lived from AD 1281 to 1345. He completed the Philobiblon in January of 1345, shortly before his death.

64

2 The main transmitters

manifestly Athenophile tradition. That probably may be best explained by his dependence for that part of his work on Ephorus, historian and pupil of the

Athenian rhetor Isocrates (cf. Barber 1993, passim). It may also have happened that he plainly and completely misinterpreted or misrepresented his sources, as may have been the case in I.Ixxx.1-2.° Worse still, he may occasionally even,

whenever appropriate in his view, have created a historical tradition. The practice of enabling the search for ta genomena proved to be more difficult for Diodorus than he claimed: ..., τὸ δ᾿ἀναγραφῆς ἀξιῶσαι τὰ διαφωνούμενα παρὰ τοῖς συγγραφεῦσιν ἀναγκαῖον. ὅπως ἀκέραιος H περὶ τῆς ἀληθείας κρίσις

ἀπολείπηται τοῖς ἀναγινώσκουσιν (». . . , and yet, the differences among writers must be recorded, in order to make the judgement on the truth with an open mind possible for the readers«: D.S. 1.1vi.6). C. Diodorus and Ctesias

There has been some debate whether Diodorus was familiar with Ctesias’ actual work or knew it only through intermediaries.

Though

is still found in some writers (for a useful review:

cf.

the latter view

Bigwood

1980, 196

and note 5), Krumbholz (RAM 41 [1886], 50 [1895], and 52 [1897]) argued at length that Diodorus must have used Ctesias’ work itself.

This view was

shared by Schwartz (1905), Jacoby (1922; though he had taken another view

initially in the FGrH), Drews (1973), and Bigwood (1980, 196: »It is very difficult to believe that Diodorus did not make use of Ctesias directly«). In my opinion Diodorus' remark in XIV.xlvi.6, ject, makes it unbelievable that Diodorus There is, however, one point that should count of Semiramis shows elements similar

recognizing the end of Ctesias' prodid not know the Persica directly. be carefully noticed. Diodorus' acto, or perhaps even drawn from, the

campaigns of Alexander, namely regarding the expedition against India. If so, these elements are of course not likely to have been founded directly on Ctesias'

account. Nevertheless, Diodorus claims that he based (at least part of) this story

on Ctesias. It might be explained by supposing an intermediary, sc. Cleitarchus,

also mentioned by Diodorus as one of his sources. Like his father Dinon, who

used Ctesias’ work extensively (v. infra), Cleitarchus may well have adapted

8

My attention was drawn to this example through a paper by Anja Stijnen, »De organisatie van Apuleius’ rovers. Feit of fictie (= The Organization of Apuleius’ Robbers. Fact or Fiction), Hermeneus 74.1 (2002), 33-38, p. 35; cf. also H.F Lutz, ‘The Alleged Robbers’ Guild

in Ancient Egypt« University of California Publications in Semitic Philology 10.7 (1937), 231—42, pp. 239-40. A different view is held by W. Vycichl, »Le marché aux voleurs: une institution égyptienne de l'époque ptolémaique. L'organisation du systéme« Bulletin de la Société d'égyptologie de Genéve, 9-10 (1984—85), 337—44.

2.1

Diodorus of Sicily

65

Ctesias' original? Reworking the stories Ctesias had learned from his Babylonian informers, Cleitarchus may be the chief responsible to have transformed the Assyrian Ninus and the Babylonian Semiramis into the central figures of a popular cycle of stories. It appears, then, that Diodorus used both Ctesias and Cleitarchus’ reworking of Ctesias, without always mentioning the latter,

to compose his own version of the occurrences in Assyria and Babylonia (cf. Gardiner-Garden 1987, 8—9 and notes 39 and 40). Attractive as this theory may appear, we should note that also Nicholas of Damascus (FGrH No.

90 F. 1) starts with mentioning the Indian War of Se-

miramis. It means that either Ctesias himself must have already written about an Indian expedition of Semiramis or that also Nicholas used ἃ reworking of Ctesias’ Persica, either by Dinon or, probably more likely, by Cleitarchus.

In

the former case we have to accept that the transformation of Semiramis started at least as early as the last quarter of the 5th century and is correctly reflected by Ctesias and through him by Diodorus (and that the introduction of Dinon or Cleitarchus is unnecessary). In the latter case there are several options regarding

Nicholas' use of Ctesias: * Nicholas’ use of Ctesias has been only indirect, sc. through Cleitarchus (or perhaps even Dinon); * Nicholas used both the works of Ctesias and Cleitarchus (or Dinon, for

that matter) in more or less equal measure; * Nicholas mainly used Ctesias' account, only sporadically adorned with

remarks derived from Cleitarchus' work (or, naturally, that of Dinon). At this stage I am not yet ready to come to a final conclusion, though Occam's razor appears momentarily to favour the first option. In that case, however,

both the remarks of Jacoby and Lenfant regarding Nicholas and Ctesias (cf. infra, Ch.

1.2.2.1 sub E) should be revised. Obviously, I shall return to this subject

when discussing Nicholas. As for Dinon, Schwartz was (one of) the first to suggest that he was the in-

termediary between Ctesias and the romantic Alexander-history (E. Schwartz, RE, vol. V.1, Stuttgart 1903, 654 s.v. Dinon [2]). Also Jacoby suggested that

Dinon played a key role in the transmission and transformation of Ctesias’ Assyrian, Median, and Persian history: »Dinon scheint in hellenistischer Zeit al-

lerdings das Hauptbuch gewesen zu sein ... Sie fußte in ihren älteren Teilen 9

Anedition by Dominique Lenfant, Les Persica de Dinon et d’ Héraclide has been announced for 2009 as volume 13 of the series Persica, Paris (De Boccard), but its information could, regret-

tably, not been incorporated in this book.

66

2

The main transmitters

offensichtlich ganz auf K [tesias], natürlich mit der Maßgabe, daß Dinon ihn in

der Richtung effektvoll-rhetorischer Ausgestaltung zu übertreffen suchte, ihn variirte und durch solche Mittel die stoffliche Abhängigkeit verdeckte, ganz wie

es K[tesias] selbst mit Herodot gemacht hat« (Jacoby 1922, 2069). Whether, and if so to what extent, Diodorus has used Dinon we do not know: he is, at least, not mentioned by Diodorus as one of his sources. It is certain, however,

that Diodorus used Ephorus, especially for the description of the early years of the rule of King Artaxerxes II. Noteworthy in this respect is that Ephorus used Ctesias, next to Xenophon, as his source (cf. also Jacoby 1922, 2070), likely, or

at least possibly, also for this period.

The resulting picture of the relation between Ctesias and Diodorus is less clear than we might hope for. It is certain that Diodorus used Ctesias both directly and indirectly as source for his Bibliotheca. As the material on the story of Semiramis mentioned above might indicate it is, however, by no means always evident when Ctesias is used directly. Under the guise of Ctesias Diodorus may,

in fact, have been using an adaptation of the original, possibly (or perhaps even likely) by Cleitarchus or— probably even worse—Dinon. At the same time he may, referring to Ephorus, well be relating an original piece of Ctesias.

There is, moreover, an additional problem. On the most superficial reading of the story of Ninus and Semiramis, one might suppose that only seven sections derive directly from Ctesias: II.ii.3—4, part of II.v.4, part of IL.vii.1,

part of ILvii.3 and 4, part of IL.viüi.5, II.xv.2-4, and ILxvii.1. Nevertheless, the first sentence of ILxx.3 suggests that at least the whole story of Semira-

mis is essentially based upon Ctesias’ work.

Some details regarding Dercetó,

for instance, are also recorded by other authors with a reference to Ctesias,

but that certainly does not apply for all aspects of the story. The next time Diodorus mentions Ctesias by name is in the last sentence of II.xxi.8, as testi-

mony for the duration of the Assyrian Empire, and again in IL xxxii.4, introducing II.xxxii.5—II.xxxiv.6 as directly based upon Ctesias.

The fact, however,

that the indirect speech is used almost continually throughout the whole story makes it clear that it is taken from, or at least based upon, another work, presumably Ctesias’. By force of Occam's razor we have to accept that as a datum. Though there may be, as I believe to have made clear, quite some unsolved

problems regarding the origin of all details of Semiramis’ story in Diodorus’ account, I shall nevertheless follow the traditional pattern. I shall, therefore, treat the whole of her story, except for those parts evidently based upon other

authors, as originating from books I and II of the Persica. It should be clear, however, that the reliability of Diodorus as a witness for Ctesias’ Persica is not at all beyond doubt.

2.1

Diodorus of Sicily

2.1.2

67

Method

Originally it was believed that Diodorus invariably followed a single author

for many chapters at a time, changing his source as infrequently as possible: a position today still held i.a. by Stylianou (1998). Most, however, now accept

that, although Diodorus perhaps drew primarily upon a single source for the main line of the different sections of his work, he certainly also incorporated extracts from other writers.'° As sources for his second book Diodorus himself mentions, apart from Ctesias, »Cleitarchus and some of those who at a later

time crossed into Asia with Alexander« (D.S. II.vii.3), one »Athenaeus and cer-

tain other historians«.'' Perhaps we may include among the other historians also Herodotus (whom Diodorus also used in his first book: Burton 1972, 25), Dinon of Colophon (the father of Cleitarchus: cf. Lesky 1971, 697; v. also above, sub 1.2.1.1), Agatharchides," and/or Hieronymus."

Various scholars have speculated widely (sometimes even wildly) on the sources of opinions and facts presented in the Bibliotheca, without making even an attempt to investigate what Diodorus' own contribution was: »Thoroughly cannibalized, with parts assigned to a variety of authors and traditions of the previous four centuries, the Bibliothéké has lost its integrity as a .

unified work and its place within the history of ideas« (Sacks 1990, 4; also: Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, I, 1993, xxvi-xxviii). In his turn Sacks argues »that

Diodorus himself, influenced by contemporary political and aesthetic considerations, is responsible for much of the nonnarrative material and determined the overall shape and main themes of the history« (Sacks 1990, 5; cf. also Oldfather 1968, xvii; Bigwood 1980, 199). Wherever Diodorus' expressions are not ori-

ginal, and this may quite often be the case, they are, nevertheless, generally compatible with his own beliefs. As Sacks points out, sentiments throughout the Bibliotheca are consistent and intertwined (cf. also Chamoux/Bertrac, Diod-

ore, I, 1993, xxxii sq.). Such could not be the case if the work were merely a random compilation of older traditions. Surviving fragments from Diodorus' sources serve as controls on his method of excerption.

These outside

checks prove that, while paraphrasing factual narrative fairly faithfully, Diodorus freely invents asides on politics, philosophy, and historiography (Sacks 1990, 6; contra: Oldfather 1968, xxiii). 10

Burton 1972, 1; also: Oldfather 1968, xvii, and, eloquently, Green 2006, 24-31; for this

particular part of Diodorus' history: Bigwood 1980, 202 sqq. . D.S. II.xx.3: he obviously did not mean Athenaeus of Naucratis, the author of the Deipnosophistae, since this writer lived around AD 200. 12. C£ also: J. Marquart, »Die Assyriaka des Ktesias«, Philologus Supplement 6 (1891/3), 504 sqq. 13 Cf. also: B. Volquardsen, Jahresb. 7 (1876), 387 sqq.; Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, I, 1993,

i1

xxiii, suggest as Diodorus’ sources for his second book: Hecataeus of Abdera, Herodotus, and Iambulus.

Athenaeus, Cleitarchus, Ctesias,

2 The main transmitters

68

The Bibliotheca does not only preserve a »history< covering what we might

call the historical era, but deals also with the mythical period. According to Diodorus history πολλὰ

συμβάλλεται

τοῖς ἀνθρώποις

πρὸς

εὐσέβειαν

καὶ

δικαιοσύνην (»contributes greatly to piety and justice among men«: 1.1.2}. A

striking aspect of Diodorus' treatment of myth is that the first three books, covering the eastern lands, bear no obvious relationship to the historical portion of

the Bibliotheca. Diodorus says that he had access to research materials in Alex-

andria and Rome (I.iv.2-4; IILxxxviii.1; XVII.ii.6), where travelogues and local histories were certainly available.'* The histories of eastern lands were then becoming fashionable, as witnessed by the works of Alexander Polyhistor,

Timagenes, and Pompeius Trogus. Yet Diodorus mentions no eastern peoples after book III, unless they are directly involved with Greeks or Romans (Sacks

1990, 55—6).

As we have argued above, Diodorus' claim to universality is, more or less, empty boasting, as he limits himself essentially to Greece, Rome and Sicily. We

also observed that the regions of Egypt and Mesopotamia, the subject of Diodorus’ books I and II, hardly recur in the sequel of his Bibliotheca. However, Sacks states that an investigation into his view of progress reveals that books I-III are philosophically connected to the rest of Diodorus’ work and that they do help to establish the universalism of the Bibliotheca. Once again it will be seen that material traditionally ascribed to Diodorus’ sources is, in fact, of his

making. His treatment of eastern mythologies and his view of progress are intricately connected to other themes in the Bibliotheca already recognized as being his own (Sacks 1990, 56). Sacks elaborates this theory for Diodorus’ book I, but not really for the other books. Discussing Semiramis, though, Sacks postulates that »what is especially thematic about the early books is the emphasis on female rulers« (Sacks 1990, 76 and note 100). A substantial part of chapters i-xxxiv of book II's is indeed devoted to Semiramis. It has been suggested that the author who really focused on the position of women at the court was Ctesias (cf. Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1987a, 40—43). According to Heleen Sancisi-

Weerdenburg the vindictive queen very well may have been a mainly literary 14

15

Access to these sources must not have been an easy task, though:

cf.

Chamoux/Bertrac,

Diodore, 1, 1993, xx-xxi and note 44. Cf. also infra p. 92 sqq. for a description of Plutarch’s problems regarding the collecting of his sources. In fact almost two thirds of chapters i-xxxiv of book II are, some way or another, dealing with Semiramis and her exploits. It shows, in my view, that Diodorus preferred an elaborate example to a balanced rendering of the story as presented by Ctesias. To compare: if Dio-

dorus' account were proportionate, Ctesias would have devoted three to four books to her.

According to ILxxi.8 Diodorus gave already a count of Assyrian kings in his second book. Perhaps book 3 of the Persica told the story of Sardanapallus and the accession of the Mede

Arbaces, just like much of Cyrus' story is possibly already related in book 6.

2.1

Diodorus of Sicily

69

character, stemming from an oral story-telling tradition. This observation is certainly correct, but it does not necessarily exclude Sacks' conclusion. I suppose that Diodorus chose from Ctesias’ Persica those topics that fitted his aims best. In this respect I do doubt whether he did concentrate on strong women, as Sacks suggests. The characters had to fit in his program as moral examples; that they were female was only of secondary interest. That Diodorus coloured the characters (and events) as presented by Ctesias or

Ctesias/Cleitarchus can certainly not be excluded.

This assumption gains in

strength if we take a closer look at the story presented in II.xxxiv.3-5, relating the vicissitudes of the queen of the Sacae, Zarina, as Diodorus calls her.'^ We

may compare it with that tiny piece of original Ctesias, P.Oxy. 2330, augmented with the introduction provided by Demetrius (Eloc. 213) and the version by Nicholas of Damascus. Whereas Nicholas’ line of story" seems largely consistent with Ctesias’ and Demetrius’, also concerning the name of the woman, Zarinaea, Diodorus appears to opt for a different angle.

There is a kind of paradox: on the one hand Diodorus expressly states that he is presenting the account of Ctesias (D.S. Il.xxxii.4-5), on the other Diodorus' attention is focused on the μνήμης ἄξια, the deeds worthy to remember, like wars and monuments and his paradigms, while Ctesias himself obviously preferred the petite histoire with its love stories, dramas, and intrigues (as might be expected of an Oriental storyteller). What may have been of secondary im-

portance to Ctesias, Diodorus may have turned into an example in compliance

with his own views. Add to that the problems outlined above regarding the authorship of Ctesias and Cleitarchus (and possibly Dinon).

To what extent

we are, then, able to decide what the first five or six books of the Persica really looked like is, in my view, therefore, quite uncertain. Views

We noticed above that in spite of all criticism that the Bibliotheca has met, the

work shows a remarkable cohesion. Sacks remarks that Diodorus has construc-

ted the Bibliotheca around his program for moral living, which we already cited above. Again and again, he judges individuals and nations by how benevolently they act while enjoying good fortune. He awards special praise to benefactors, mythological and historical, who contributed civilising gifts in the arts and sciences and in politics (Sacks 1990, 205; also: Oldfather 1968, xx—xxi). This becomes very clear in Diodorus' attitude towards Caesar, Pompey, and

Octavian. Diodorus is full of praise for Caesar because of his reconstruction of Corinth (v. esp. D.S. XXXILxxvii.3), and for Pompey the Great because 16 17

Ed. F. Vogel und C.T. Fischer, (Teubner) Leipzig. Cf. infra p. 72. Concerning the presentation, however, exist conflicting opinions: cf. infra, p. 81.

70

2 The main transmitters

of the way he governed Sicily in 82/1 (D.S. XXXVIII/XXXIX.xx). Both of them he praises for their lack of avarice (for Caesar: D.S. XX XII. xxvii.3; for Pompey: D.S. XXXVIII/XXXIX.ix and xx). On the other hand there is his reserved attitude towards Octavian, whom he (as far as we are able to judge on

the basis of the remaining generally accepted text) almost completely left out of the text, except for a short remark that he (= O.) expelled the inhabitants of Tauromenium, a place in Sicily, in 36 after his defeat off Tauromenium against the younger son of Pompey (D.S. XVI vii.1; cf. also App. BC V.109 sqq.). As it was, that deportation did not at all qualify as a benevolent act. Since it was

no very wise policy to speak out against Octavian, I think Diodorus preferred to remain silent regarding him, not being inclined to speak well of him.

Summary

Schwartz's remark that Diodorus was held in high regard only by the Christian writers (whereas more learned pagan contemporaries typically did not) is not correct. We know that the Bibliotheca was available for the Elder Pliny, Athenaeus, and later legal and textual scholars (cf. also Sacks 1990, 162 and note 9).

Pliny (NH, Preface, 25) even praises Diodorus for the straightforward title of his work. It may also have been used by Plutarch and Cassius Dio (Sacks 1990, 162 and note 10), and finally the notoriously fraudulent Cephalion wrote, in Had-

rian's time, a history that, as writers then noted (cf.

Sacks 1990, 162 and

note 11), resembled an epitome of Diodorus. Based upon these observations, I think Schwartz's judgement cannot be maintained.

Reviewing the material on Diodorus we see that: * he perhaps drew primarily upon a single source for a section of his work, but also incorporated extracts from other writers;

* he was an uncritical, and sometimes inaccurate, excerpter, occasionally using his sources without judgement; * he freely invented asides on politics, philosophy, and historiography, occasionally adding material of himself under the name of his (alleged) source; * he was responsible for the overall shape and main themes of the history; * he maintained a strong cohesion throughout his work, aimed at a central

theme and constructed it around a program for moral living; * he knew the whole extent of Ctesias’ work as is shown by his remark in XIV.xlvi.6.

2.1

2.1.3

Diodorus of Sicily

71

Manuscripts and relevant editions

The text of the fifteen preserved books of Diodorus' Bibliotheca has been trans-

mitted by in total fifty-nine manuscripts.'? Apart from some special cases the manuscripts of books I-V on the one hand and books XI-XX

on the other

form two distinct groups. Manuscripts of books I- V Books I-V of Diodorus' Bibliotheca are transmitted to us through 28 manu-

scripts, of which four may be considered as prototypes. The first of these prototypes is the codex Neopolitanus suppl. gr. 4, formerly the Vindobonensis suppl.

gr. 74 (=D), written on parchment.

It dates from the beginning of the Xth

century, probably originating from Constantinople.

Some parts have been re-

stored, but that does not apply to the chapters of book II, based on Ctesias’ Persica. A new collation of this manuscript, by Richard(us) Bergmann, was used in the Diodorus-edition by Friedrich (Fridericus) Vogel, published at Leipzig (Teubner), 1888—1906 in six volumes. The second prototype is the codex Vaticanus gr. 130 (7 C), from the middle of

the Xth century, also written on parchment. The text of this manuscript has been the object of numerous scrapings and corrections, which generally concern orthography (the accentuation was very poor in the text of the first hand). The quite insufficient collations of this manuscript that have been used by Wesseling, who in or about 1745 published an edition of the Bibliotheca (with the 1604 translation into Latin by Laurent(ius) Rhodoman [1546—1606]), in 2 volumes at Amsterdam, were followed without modification by succeeding editors.

The third manuscript, codex Vaticanus gr. 996 (= V), at present bound in two volumes, is written on Arabic paper.

This kind of paper, without filigrain, is

of a format that is attested also in Spain, be it at a later date (XIIlth century). It

goes back to the XIth-XIIth centuries as far as may be judged on the basis of the writing: because of the paper, however, also a later date (i.e. the XIIIth century) has been advocated. The beginning and the end ofthe manuscript are mutilated and were restored in the XIVth century. The original but much damaged paper has been covered with a protective sheet: since the sheet has yellowed, the

reading of the manuscript sometimes is difficult. Wesseling only offers a few

readings from this manuscript; it has not been collationed by following editors. The fourth manuscript, codex Laurentianus 70,1 (= L), is written on paper and may, tentatively, be dated to about 1330. The manuscript contains Arrian's Anabasis Alexandri and Indica, the treatise On the fortune of Alexander by Plutarch, 18

Unless mentioned otherwise, the information moux/Bertrac, Diodore, I, 1993, Ixxvii—cxxiii.

on the manuscripts

is based upon

Cha-

72

2 The main transmitters

an abridged version of books I-III and V (the copyist wishing to leave the mythological passages out ofthe text) of Diodorus, and at the end, in another hand, a text mainly consisting of fragments of Plutarch. This manuscript has not been used by editors of Diodorus' Bibliotheca. From these four manuscripts of Diodorus' books I-V twenty-four, direct or indirect, apographa are known.

The complete stemma is presented in

Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, I, 1993, xcvii. Since the later books of Diodorus

(with the possible exception of book XIV) do not contain important parts that are manifestly based upon Ctesias' Persica I do not think it necessary to go deeper

into the history of transmission of those books. Those interested in this matter I refer to Chamoux/Bertrac, Diodore, I, ci—cxxiii. Previous editions of Diodorus’ Bibliothéké

The editio princeps of the Βιβλιοθήκη tovopuc (Historical library) was prepared by Henri Estienne, Genéve 1559, and dedicated to Ulrich Fugger. On the basis of this text Laurent Rhodoman (1546-1606) published an edition of the Bib-

liotheca in two volumes at Hannover, in 1604. A major landmark in the publication of Diodorus—and one with far-reaching consequences as to what was to be considered as Diodorus proper and what as spurious— was the edition of Wesseling, mentioned above (discussing ms. »C«). Wesseling had not seen the

manuscripts themselves, but with help from many parts had assembled a documentation that was as complete as possible. After Wesseling some incomplete

editions appeared. The first complete edition after Wesseling was published by

Ludwig August (Ludovicus) Dindorf (1805—1871) at Leipzig in 1826: it was almost completely dependent on Wesseling’s. This was not the case for Dindorf’s following edition of Diodorus, Leipzig 1828—1831: for that time the edition was up-to-date.

The next major step forward was the edition (already mentioned) by Vogel and Curt(ius) Theodorus Fischer (who edited the last three volumes), Leipzig 1888-1906. It presents the Greek text with an apparatus criticus limited to the readings of the main manuscripts. However, Vogel (who published books

I-XV) did not examine any manuscript and remained tributary to Wesseling’s work. The edition by »Les Belles Lettres« (Edition Budé) is based on a new collation of the fundamental manuscripts. Next to Lenfant's edition of Ctesias’ Persica, I will essentially use this edition to set up Ctesias' text. Volume II, containing

Diodorus' book II, was edited by B. Eck (Paris 2003). It is largely identical to Vogel's edition, apart from some 100 differences. About 50 of these are due to

a return to the manuscripts: Eck himself, however, has not proposed any new reading.

2.2 Nicholas of Damascus

2.2 2.2.1

73

Nicholas of Damascus Life and works of Nicholas

A. Life

Nicholas of Damascus was born in c. 64. This date is calculated upon the basis of his remark (cf. FGrH 90 F. 136.8) that he was at the time of King Herod's death (i.e. in 4'?) about sixty years old. He was, according to the Suda (a, 2705; v, 393), of a distinguished and wealthy family, his father being called Antipater (not to be identified with Antipater, father of Herod the Great), his mother Stratonice. Both names look Macedonian, as does his brother's name, Ptolemy,

but at this date names seem no longer a certain indicator of ethnic origin, espe-

cially not in this region. It is more probable that they were Syrians in origin (cf. Wacholder 1962, 14—5). Wacholder (1962, 15) even states that FGrH No. 90 F. 137, l. 34 sqq. might imply that Nicholas considered himself more a Syrian than a Greek: ... πόλεως μὲν οὔποτ᾽ ἀφ᾽ ἑτέρας οἰόμενος δεῖν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπὸ τῆς αὐτοῦ προσαγορεύεσθαι: κατεγέλα δὲ καὶ τῶν καθ᾽ αὑτὸν σοφιστῶν οἵ μεγάλοις τιμήμασιν Ewvodvro Ἀθηναῖοι ἢ Ῥόδιοι καλεῖσθαι. βαρυνόμενοι

τὴν ἀδοξίαν τῶν πατρίδων ... (he will never deem it necessary to assume the citizenship of another city than his own, and he laughs at those sophists of his times, who paid high prices the right to be called Athenians or Rhodians, because they were ashamed of the obscurity of their native city«). I doubt whether this fragment really may be used to determine Nicholas' feelings. ParmentierMorin (1998, 34 note 112) rightly remarks that this attitude may have been used

by Nicholas to demonstrate his Aristotelian μετριότης (moderation »modesty«), rather a social than a moral virtue.

As such, it tells us nothing about

Nicholas' true feelings: his very actions frequently appear to belie that prized modesty. After the fall of the Seleucid Empire (c. 85), Damascus had come under the

rule of the king of Arabia, at that time Aretas. This king struck coins bearing the circumscription βασιλέως ᾿Αρέτου Φιλέλληνος (»of King Aretas the Phil-

hellene«: c£. Laqueur 1936, 363). When the people of Damascus had liberated themselves from this ruler, in about 70/69, the city was again considered to a

be full member of the Greek world. In 64 the territory that once had been the ı9

Andrew E. Steinmann suggests to redate the reign of Herod the Great: A.E. Steinmann,

‚When Did Herod the Great Reign? NovT 51 (2009), 1-29. Steinmann argues that the consensus that Herod reigned from 40 to 4 is wrong and that Herod actually reigned from late 39 to early 1. Though ingenious, his arguments are not really convincing, i.a. involving too

much redating of other rulers (i.e. Herod’s sons). In particular, it does not seem likely that three of Herod's sons (Archelaus, Antipas, and Philip) would all reckon their reigns from 4,

unless that was the year that Herod's reign ended. Therefore I shall follow Herod's conven-

tional dates.

74

2 The main transmitters

Seleucid Empire was conquered by Pompey the Great. In 63 Pompey entered the city of Damascus and made it part of the Roman Empire. Nicholas' father may have been among the Damascene magistrates who welcomed Pompey upon

his arrival in the city (cf. Wacholder 1962, 16 and note 26). Both Nicholas' descent and his skills gave him access to the highest circles: he was the tutor of the children of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII. Laqueur

suggests (Laqueur 1936, 365) that Cleopatra met Nicholas in 36, either at Damascus or in Palestine, when she was on her way to Mark Antony, then warring in Parthia. Probably somewhere in 35 he may have started teaching her children at Alexandria. How he thought about his employer remains obscure. If we accept Nicholas as the source for Josephus’ AJ XV.xcvi-ciii we might, however,

suspect some ill-feeling towards the Egyptian queen. Nicholas apparently did have sufficient political skill to leave this service shortly before or after the battle of Actium, in any case before Octavian's arrival in Alexandria (cf. Wacholder

1962, 23).

|

|

Somewhere between 30 and 20 Nicholas entered the service of King Herod I as his adviser, teacher, and ambassador. According to Constantine VII Porphyrogenetus' de Thematibus, vol. 1.3, F. 71 (v. Migne, PG 113, 426—454),

Nicholas was Herod's ὑπογραφεὺς, most commonly translated as »secretary«

but sometimes even with a military connotation»adjutant« In 20 he probably was already among Herod's staff, member of a delegation to Antioch where

princeps Augustus met an Indian delegation (FGrH No. 90 F. 100; cf. also Jacoby, FGrH vol. ΠΟ, 299). Laqueur (1936, 366 —7) even suggests that some kind of relation between Herod and Nicholas existed already before 40. This, however, has been questioned by Wacholder (1962, 24), who argues that it is likely that Nicholas entered Herod's service only after Actium. Nicholas needed shelter and stimulating surroundings, which Herod could both provide.

Herod,

on the other hand, needed an experienced courtier who could help him to placate Octavian/Augustus (Wacholder 1962, 24-6), a description fitting Nicholas like a glove. It is possible that Nicholas’ Bíog Καίσαρος (Life of Caesar | Augusfus]) dates back to these years (cf. Jacoby, FGrH vol. ΠΟ, 264). Wilamowitz 1995, 64 states that »After all, che book was written during Augustus' lifetime«,

a statement that leaves plenty of space for various suggestions. Wilamowitz thinks that the book only covers the period of Augustus’ life before he became the indisputed sole ruler. It could make an early date possible. One of Nicholas’ missions as ambassador brought him to Rome

(8/7), to

appease Augustus after Herod had incurred the princeps" displeasure by having started a war (probably in 9) against the Nabataeans in Arabia (cf. FGrH No. 90 F. 136, ll. 1-5). In this, Nicholas’ efforts appear to have been successful, as in a number of other errands (Wacholder 1962, 26 sqq.). At that time Herod's court was swarming with treason, plots, and conspiracies. Whether all these were

2.2

Nicholas of Damascus

7$

real, or only existed in the king's mind, cannot be determined.

The rumours

involved i.a. the two sons Herod had with Mariamme I (who had been executed in 27 on the charge of ἀσέλγεια, »depravation«). A third son of Herod, Antipater, successfully called for the execution (because of treason) of his brothers,

thereby causing a conflict between himself and Nicholas, but was tried himself shortly later on the same charges: Nicholas successfully prosecuted him. Five days before Herod himself died, Antipater was executed on Herod's orders. When, after the death of Herod in 4, Judaea was divided between Herod's

three remaining sons, Nicholas successfully supported one of them, Herod Archelaus (Herod's choice: Josephus AJ XVII.clxxxviii sqq.; cf. also Wacholder 1962, 34-5), and joined

him to Rome to have his succession to the throne

confirmed. Having completed this mission to the best of his abilities (though probably not completely satisfactory for Herod Archelaus: see ParmentierMorin 1998, 40), it appears that Nicholas did not return to the Orient (immediately) but remained for some time at Rome (cf. FGrH No. 90 F. 138). We have no account of when and where he died.

Lesky (1971, 872) suggests that

Nicholas may have died at Rome. Since he continued his Historiae to the death of King Herod 1, we might suspect that he may have lived at least to around the beginning of the Christian era or perhaps a number of years more. For the composition of one of his other works, his Life of Caesar [Augustus], a date as late

as AD 14 has been suggested by Laqueur (1936, 405-6), though this view is not uncontested (v. supra). Also Nicholas’ remark, preserved in FGrH No. 90 E. 138, Il. 5—9, that he remained an outsider while staying at Rome and did not mix with the leading circles at Rome, might be an indication that he still lived

for quite a number of years at Rome after his arrival with Herod Archelaus. B. Education

Nicholas appears to have been outstandingly well-educated (cf. FGrH No. 90 Ε 132, ll. 1-2). He was, perhaps, profiting from the fact that, due to the new political situation, the intellectual horizon encompassed—even more than

already may have been the situation in this meeting-place of two worlds—both the East and the West (not necessarily equivalent with a guarantee for superior scholarship: in fact, the price for the new unity potentially was loss of intellec-

tual freedom: cf. Wacholder 1962, 16—7).

By his education he became a Peripatetic (ζηλωτὴς γενόμενος »having become a follower of Aristotle«:

γὰρ

FGrH No.

Ἀριστοτέλους 90 F. 132, 1.

15), a follower ofthe co-operative research into most branches of contemporary

learning founded by Aristotle and his successor Theophrastus. Both Plutarch and Athenaeus refer to Nicholas as in the first place a philosopher. Also others,

like Porphyry, Simplicius, Stobaeus, Diogenes Laertius, and the Suda, valued

76

2 The main transmitters

his philosophical works, especially his interpretations of Aristotle (cf. Wacholder 1962, 3). Nicholas spent some years in Alexandria (FGrH No. 90 T 2) and Rome, which he visited at least three times, in 12 (FGrH No. 90 E. 135), in 8

(FGrH No. 90 T 7), and in 4 (FGrH No. 90 TT 8-9, Ε 136, ll. 8—11, F. 138).

He also visited Rhodes (FGrH No. 90 F. 134, |. 14 sq.)— with Alexandria and Rome the major centres of learning at that time.

Apart from these cities he

visited Antioch, Ionia, Chios, Byzantium, and Troy, and probably quite some

other places as well (cf. Wacholder 1962, 18). C. Works

Nicholas’ authorship covers various fields. The works are summarized here, though not necessarily in the order in which they were written. As we might expect, we find a number of philosophical texts, though known through some Greek fragments, mainly kept through texts in Arabic and Syriac, the On Aris-

totle's Philosophy? Further he is known to have written some tragedies and comedies (cf. Suda v, 393; perhaps to be considered preferably as novels), now lost except for, perhaps, the title of one of them, the Δρᾶμα τῆς Σωσαννίδος (Story

of Susannah), Though Von Christ, II.1, 375 states that the Suda mentions this work as one of his, this reference is not found in the Adler edition. It might perhaps be a reference to the story of Ninus’ daughter Susannah (Σωσάνη), presented to Onnes in return for Semiramis (cf. D.S. II.vi.9), or, more likely in my

opinion," to the (Hebrew) story from the apocryphal version of the book of Daniel (Daniel, Supplements 5, 13:1—64) about the righteous wife of Joachim of Babylon, Susannah, falsely accused by two judges of comitting adultery. Next an autobiography, the Περὶ τοῦ ἰδίου βίου xoi τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ἀγωγῆς (On my

own Life and Education: FGrH No. 90, F. 131—9). Its primary purpose seems to have been to offer the reader a model of the life of a philosopher (cf. Wacholder 1962, 37—51). In Nicholas' perspective philosophy essentially meant ethics as FGrH

No.

90 FE

133-134 and, to some extent, FE. 137-139 show.

Then—already mentioned—a biography of Augustus, the Life of Caesar [Augustus] or Biog Katoapos.”? Though this work is, in itself, in no respect related 20

Cf. HJ. Drossaart Lulofs, Nicholas Damascenus on the Philosophy of Aristotle. Fragments of the first 5 books, transl. from the Syriac, Leiden 1969 (reprint of the 1965 ed.); also: Nicholas Damascenus,

De Plantis. Five Translations, ed. and introduced by H.J. Drossaart Lulofs and E.L.J. Poortman, Amsterdam 1989 (Aristoteles Semitico-Latinus).

21

Since also Nicholas’ Historiae appears to have contained a fair amount of»parallel history: to the Old Testament, we might expect that a similar inspiration may have served Nicholas in

22

other respects as well. Cf. fora detailed view on this work M. Toher, The Βίος Καίσαρος of Nicolaus of Damascus. An historiographical analysis, Providence 1985 (diss. Brown Univ.). Cf. alsoJ. Bellemore, Nicolaus

of Damascus.

Life of Augustus, ed. with Introduction, Translation & Commentary, Bristol

2.2

Nicholas of Damascus

77

to Ctesias’ Persica, it gives us a clear insight into Nicholas’ distinctive style of writing, notably his love for dramatic effects.

Both the autobiography and the Life of Caesar are characteristic for the Peripatetic contribution to late Hellenistic biography (cf. also Parmentier-Morin 1998, 37—9). Character, to be specific: the command of (all) virtues, is essential, historical accuracy of secundary importance. In fact, the Life of Caesar offers

precious little of facts, but those facts that are presented are so tendentious, distorted, or »sexed πρ΄ that they should make any reader—and certainly every

historian— suspicious (cf. Wilamowitz in: Scardigli 1995, 64). However, this work was not meant to be accurate: its purpose was wholly of political nature

(and truth and politics usually hardly mix, if at all). Moreover, it has been suggested that Augustus and Nicholas were friends (Athenaeus XIV.66): friendship, too, infrequently leads to an objective account of facts. Nicholas also is the author of a description of the strange customs of vari-

ous peoples, the ᾿Εθῶν (παραδόξων) συναγωγή (Description of [Incredible] Customs: FGrH No. 90 F. 103—24), of which 22 fragments were preserved by Sto-

baeus. Last but not least he wrote the Historiae, officially known as the Ἱστορία καθολική (Universal History). Photius probably refers to this work and calls it mistakenly an Ασσυριακὴ ἱστορία (Assyrian History: Phot. Bibl. [189] 146213). We should forgive him this mistake, for he states that he read the work in the

past and did not have it at hand while writing the Bibliotheca (v. infra p. 138). During the composition of the Historiae Nicholas used Ctesias’ Persica as one of his sources. In their turn Nicholas' historical works have been used as a source

by Strabo and Plutarch (both refer to him at least once) and especially by Flavius Josephus (cf. Wacholder 1962, 4—5). D. The Historiae

For the purpose of the present inquiry, the most important work of Nicholas of Damascus is the Historiae. It is a universal history in 144 books from the earliest times to the death of King Herod the Great, but our knowledge of it is rather limited. Excerpts of books 1—7, dealing with the ancient east (Assyrians, Medes, Lydians, Persians) and early Greece, are preserved in the Excerpta Historica iussu Imperatoris Constantini [VII] Porphyrogeniti Confecta,? a work compiled

in the 2nd quarter of the Xth century.

Of books 18-144 only meagre frag-

ments are known (cf. FGrH No. 90 FF. 71-102), with the exception of books

123—4, containing the history of Herod the Great. These books are slightly

23

1984 and Nikolaos von Damaskus. Leben des Kaisers Augustus. Herausgegeben, übersetzt und kommentiert vonJ. Malitz, Darmstadt 2003. Edd. U.Ph. Boissevain, C. de Boor, Th. Buettner-Wobst, 4 vols. , Berolini 1903-1910.

78

2 The main transmitters

better known, because they are preserved in Josephus’ AJ XIV—XVIL^* This part of the Historiae shows Nicholas as a tendentious historian, but this may

be explained by his friendship with Herod (cf. Josephus AJ XVL183—7).

A

reason for him to alter, or adapt, his sources for the period of the ancient east

(allegedly chiefly based upon tales from Ctesias and Xanthus) or early Greece (Ephorus and Hellanicus) is not immediately visible. The Constantine excerpters had little interest in history as such. Their main

concern was with practical and moral lessons. The lessons were divided into rubrics under which they filed excerpts from the writers on historical subjects. Selection was made on the basis of moral edification rather than on the con-

text of the subject matter.

Consequently, the context is frequently missing,

sometimes making passages incomprehensible (Wacholder 1962, 8). It is conceivable that Herod prompted Nicholas to, start work on the His-

toriae.

In FGrH No.

enthousiasm

90 E. 135 ll.

for first philosophy,

20-7 we read about Herod's (passing)

next

rhetoric.

Αὖθις

Siotoptag

αὐτὸν

ἔρως ἔλαβεν. ἐπαινέσαντος Νικολάου τὸ πρᾷγμα καὶ πολιτικώτατον εἶναι λέγοντος, χρήσιμον δὲ καὶ βασιλεῖ. ὡς τὰ τῶν προτέρων ἔργα καὶ πράξεις ἱστοροίη. Καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦτο ὁρμήσας. προὔτρεψε καὶ Νικόλαον πραγματευθῆναι τὰ περὶ ἱστορίαν (»In turn he took a liking to history. History was recommen-

ded by Nicholas as beneficial to the citizen and as a necessity for a king to learn

from former times and past events.

Herod then persuaded Nicholas to begin

working on a history«). It appears that history is reduced to an utility, a useful tool for a ruler, perhaps also to maintain some interest into philosophy with Herod, as is suggested by the end of the fragment:

xoi κοινῇ

ἐφιλοσόφουν

(»and together they discussed philosophical issues [or, plainer: and together they talked philosophy]«). That was in 12, journeying to Rome to visit Augustus. It seems obvious to me that the purpose of the work, certainly in combination with the intended addressee, largely determined scope and contents of the

Historiae. All was subservient to the philosophical goals, spiced wherever possible with Nicholas’ most favoured theme: love (Wacholder 1962, 54). Next to this, it will have contained a good deal of »parallel history: to the Old Testament

(Wacholder 1962, 52—64). Nevertheless the table of contents of the Historiae shows that it was a true universal history. The sources Nicholas used appear to have been almost certainly popular authors. Moreover, he seems to have preferred a good story above telling the truth, as he did in the autobiography and

the Life of Caesar (cf. supra). In this respect Ctesias’ work may have been well suited to Nicholas' desire to write a dramatized history. 24

This view has been contested or at least differentiated by Bloch (H. Bloch, Die Quellen des Flavius Josephus in seiner Archäologie, Leipzig

»Herodes (14), RE, suppl. II, 6 sqq.).

1879, 106—116) and later Otto (W. Otto, s.v.

2.2 Nicholas of Damascus

79

As we have discussed in the first chapter, Ctesias was known for his lively style and the hédoné he procured. Biltcliffe remarks that Nicholas’ account of Assyrian, Median, and Persian history (i.e. chiefly his books 1 and 2) »would seem to have consisted mainly of the more romantic, intriguing and unusual episodes he found in Ctesias, held together by a linking narrative« (Biltcliffe 1969, 92). However, »Nicholas seems to have dramatized even more the account as he found it in his source« (Wacholder 1962, 68 and note 45; v. also

infra). As Nicholas also wrote tragedies (or tragic novels), he employed this skill

in writing history (as is shown in the Life of Caesar and remaining fragments of his other works) and used dramatic techniques, notably the dialogue, to fascinate his readers.

|

E. Nicholas at work

How and where and wlıen precisely Nicholas collected his sources we do not

know. The remaining material is just too limited to make an assessment of that aspect of his activities. The story of the early years of Cyrus the Great (FGrH

No.

90 F. 66) may suggest that he used several sources (here probably two,

Ctesias and Xanthus, the Lydian from Sardis), which he (probably, v. infra) freely mixed. The result is an intriguing but internally sometimes seemingly contradictory story that would be difficult, if at all possible, to disentangle (cf.

Laqueur 1936, 375—384). Rather than choosing between these two sources and giving a consistent picture, Nicholas appears to have mixed the information and offered it almost undiscriminately. There are, however, still other possibilities, one being that Ctesias himself presented two different accounts of Cyrus’ youth and that these versions, at any given stage in the process of epitomizing, became tied up. Another possibility is that Ctesias himselfis responsible for the contam-

ination of stories regarding Cyrus' origins. Later, discussing this fragment in an attempt to set up a basic text (Chapter III, sub F. 8d), we will have to elaborate

this problem further. We,

source.

luckily, do have the opportunity to view how Nicholas employed

Again the key is provided by P.Oxy.

2330.

a

The text of this frag-

ment runs as follows (cf. Plate I and the collation in Chapter ΠῚ, F. 8b): [from end of line 2] ὁ δ᾽ εἶπεν’ φέρε τὸ γοῦν πρῶτον γράμματα γράψω πρὸς Zapewatav "καὶ γράφει: Στρυαγγαῖος Ζαρειναίᾳ οὕτω λέγει’ ἐγὼ μὲν σὲ ἔσωσα. xol σὺ διέμε ἐσώθης. 'Eyo δὲ διὰ σὲ ἀπωλόμην. καὶ ἀπέκτεινα αὐτὸς ἐμαυτόν: OD γάρ μοι σὺ ἐβούλου χαρίσασθαι. "Eva δὲ ταῦτα τὰ κακὰ 25

Jacoby, FGrH 688, p. 453 ad Ε 8b (using after Lobel and Roberts 1954 the name Zareienaea: in a new collation Giannattasio Andria and I both read Zareinaea), remarks that the »basic« form of the name was Zarinaea and he wonders whether the writer (of the papyrus) wanted to correct this.

80

2 The main transmitters

καὶ τὸν ἔρωτα τόνδε οὐκ αὐτὸς εἱλόμην, ἀλλὰ με ἔρως ἀπώλεσεν.

οὗτός ἐστιν κοινὸς καὶ σοὶ καὶ ἅπασιν ἀνθρώποισιν.

Ὅτῳ

Ὁ δὲ θεὸς

μὲν οὖν εἵλεως

ἔλθῃ. πλείστας γε ἡδονὰς δίδωσιν. καὶ ἄλλα πλεῖστα ἀγαθὰ ἐποίησεν αὐτόν. Ὅταν δὲ ὀργιζόμενος ἔλθῃ ὥσπερ ἐμοὶ νῦν. πλεῖστα κακὰ ἐργασάμενος τὸ τελευταῖον πρόρριζον ἀπώλεσεν καὶ ἐξέτριψεν. Τεκμαίρομαι δὲ τῷ ἐμῷ θανάτῳ. ᾿Εγὼ γάρ σοι καταράσομαι μὲν οὐδέν. ἐπεύξομαι δέ σοι τὴν δικαιοτά-

τὴν εὐχήν’ εἰ μὲν σὺ ἐμε δίκαια ἐποίησας noA[(end of papyrus}. Translated, the text runs as follows: »He said: » Now, first of all, I will write a letter to Zareinaea« and he wrote: »Stryangaeus speaks to Zareinaea as follows: I saved you

and you were saved by me, but I have perished because of you and I kill myself, since you did not wish to be kind to me. I myself did not choose this evil fate nor this love, but love has destroyed me. This god is common to you as well as to all mankind.

Whomever he approaches favourably, he gives the utmost

pleasures and contrives for him very many other benefits, but whomever he

comes to in anger, as he does now with me, he finally turns him out and causes his complete breakdown and reduces him to nothing. I come to this conclusion from my own death. I will not curse you in any way, but I will address the most

righteous prayer to you: if you did right things towards me ma(?). . .«. The situation and the letter were also described by Nicholas at the end of one

of the preserved fragments (FGrH No. 90 Ε 5). His version reads thus: τέλος δὲ γράψας eig διφθέραν ἐξώρκωσε τὸν εὐνοῦχον, ἐπειδὰν αὑτὸν διαχρήσηται, μηδὲν προκατειπόντα τὴν διφθέραν ἀποδοῦναι Ζαριναίᾳ. ἐγέγραπτο δέ: Στρυαγγαῖος Ζαριναίᾳ λέγει τάδε: ἐγὼ μέν σε ἔσωσά τε καὶ τῶν νῦν παρόντων ἀγαθῶν αἴτιος γέγονα: σὺ δέ με ἀπέκτεινας καὶ πάντων ἀνόνητον πεποίηκας. εἰ μὲν οὖν σοι ταῦτα πέπρακται δικαίως, σὺ δὲ πάντων τύχοις τῶν ἀγαθῶν καὶ εἴης μακαρία" [εἰ δὲ ἀδίκως, σὺ δὲ τοῦ αὐτοῦ πάθους ἐμοὶ

πεῖραν λάβοις: καὶ γάρ μοι παρήνεσας τοιοῦτον γενέσθαι.

ταῦτα γράψας

ὑπὸ τῷ προσκεφαλαίῳ τίθησι (καὶ) εἰς Ἅδου ἀπιὼν ἀνδρείως τὸ ξίφος Fret.

ὁ δὲ εὐνοῦχος} (And finally, after he had written his letter on parchment, Stryngaeus made the eunuch take an oath that after Stryngaeus had killed himself, the eunuch would deliver the parchment to Zarinaea without previous

explanation. And he had written: »Stryangaeus says the following to Zarinaea: I have saved you and I am the cause of your present good situation; but you have killed me and deprived me of the enjoyment of all such good things. Therefore, if you were acting rightly, may you obtain all good things and may you be happy; [[but if this was done unjustly, may you have experience of the same suffering as I. For you encouraged me to become as I am.« Having written this he put [it] under the pillow and asked for his sword to go to the Hades like a man. But the eunuch .. ‚Je.

A comparison between FGrH No. 90 F. 5 and P.Oxy. 2330 shows that Nicholas did not copy Ctesias literally but seemingly follows the line of his story

2.2

Nicholas of Damascus

81

accurately (both versions run parallel; the part of Nicholas’ story that goes beyond the papyrus fragment is indicated by [[...]])^* However, Toher's conclusions on the use Nicholas made of his source radically differ from Biltcliffe’s. He argues, convincingly to me, that the comparison only shows an apparent likeness. As we can plainly read, Nicholas' version of the letter of Stryangaeus significantly affects the emphasis and meaning of Ctesias' text. He does so most strikingly by eradicating the role of Eros and, consequently, changing the tone

of the letter. Toher states that Nicholas was a writer with a developed style and tendency to embellish, showing a concentration on the more dramatic and

visual aspects of the story (cf. Toher 1989, 167). Above, we already pointed at his experience as writer of tragedies and comedies. The adaptation was, therefore, in accord with the techniques he [i.e. Nicholas, JPS] was used to and he

may well have used them throughout his history (cf. Toher 1989, 171). The result here was a text that drastically differed in emphasis and intent of his source (cf.

Toher

1989,

171-2).

Nicholas »...

altered and embellished his source

in à way that precludes any significant conclusions about that source« (Toher 1989, 172). Parmentier-Morin (1998, 411) supports Toher's view completely: moreover, she underlines that this appears to have been Nicholas' standard way of writing. Comparing different versions regarding the fall of Sardanapallus she remarks (1998, 404): »On est alors frappé de voir comment, partant de la méme source, Nicolas modifie la perspective du récit«. And:

»Tout en conservant le

cadre d'ensemble emprunté à Ctésias, ..., Nicolas transforme donc la perspective générale du récit en modifiant l'ordre des événements« (Parmentier-Morin

1998, 406). As an additional observation we may point out that Nicholas also consider-

ably abridged the story as presented by Ctesias. Consistent with the criticism by, i.a., Demetrius and especially the remarks of Dionysius of Halicarnassus

and Photius (cf. supra Ch. 1.1.1.6 and note 86) regarding Ctesias' simple style, the letter in P. Oxy. 2330 is far from finished, while Nicholas removes much of the melodramatic context of the scene. Though

this fragment

suggests

that Nicholas

used

Ctesias’

text at least

partly, we already discussed above that it is far from certain that he only used Ctesias’ text (cf.

p. 79).

It appears possible, or even likely, that he also used

Dinon's and/or Cleitarchus’ reworking of Ctesias’ Persica, as the situation regarding Semiramis’ Indian campaign might suggest. I already indicated three of the options open to us: 26

According to Biltcliffe »9 out of the 31 words ... of Nicholas are taken directly from Ctesias, 10 are drawn from or suggested by his version but changed in form (person, voice, case, etc.), and the remainder are substituted by Nicholas to avoid Ctesias' repetitions or to improve clause balance.« Nicholas only reshaped the introduction to the letter, but »... the

simple style of Ctesias is maintained« (Biltcliffe 1969, 91).

82

2 The main transmitters

* Nicholas’ use of Ctesias probably has been only indirect (sc. through Cleitarchus or perhaps Dinon);

* Nicholas used both the works of Ctesias and Cleitarchus (or, for that matter, Dinon) in more or less equal measure;

* Nicholas mainly used Ctesias’ account, only sporadically adorned with remarks derived from the work of Cleitarchus (or Dinon).

The fourth option is obviously that Nicholas used only Ctesias and that the Indian campaign of Semiramis was to be found in the Persica of Ctesias.

The

fragment discussed above (p. 79—81) appears to indicate that the first option is invalid: this fragment seems—in spite of the obvious differences discussed by Toher and Parmentier-Morin— genuinely derived from Ctesias’ account. Re-

garding the second, third, and fourth (and perhaps various other) options the situation is, however, certainly much less determined. In that case option four would be, after all, according to the principle of Occam's razor, the most prom-

ising one. It is, therefore, not illicit to use Nicholas' other fragments (FGrH 90 F. 1-4 and 66) as apparently going back to Ctesias’ Persica. It does, however, mean that a caveat is in order regarding both Jacoby’s remarks in his comment-

ary on these fragments and the observations by Parmentier-Morin and Lenfant,

no matter how compelling they appear to be (cf. Lenfant 2000). Summary

In summary, we may, regarding Nicholas of Damascus, conclude that:

* he possibly may have drawn upon a single source for a section of his work, but may sometimes have mixed extracts from various writers;

* he may have been not always sufficiently accurate as excerpter, using his sources without appropriate care;

* he freely invents asides and puts his own emphases; * he was responsible for the overall shape and main themes of the history; * he possibly maintained cohesion throughout his work, aimed at a central

theme and constructed it around his philosophical program. These conclusions are strikingly similar to the conclusions regarding Diodorus of Sicily. In itself this need not surprise us: after all they were (almost exact) contemporaries, and, more important, shared interests (ethics, virtue) and (so-

cial) background, and were (during their stay there) self-appointed outsiders in

2.2 Nicholas of Damascus

83

Rome. They had, moreover, a, more or less, identical didactical goal with their work, be it that Nicholas’ objective was somewhat clearer defined (sc. Herod)

than that of Diodorus. It may be clear that, like Diodorus, also Nicholas should be used with care as a source for Ctesias’ Persica.

Wherever he used Ctesias,

Nicholas’ work probably only superficially (if, indeed, at all) reflects the main line of events of the Persica, however not necessarily its actual contents.

Cte-

sias’ work, like that of other writers, merely was a tool for Nicholas for his own

project, sc. to keep King Herod focused on philosophy. 2.2.2

Manuscripts and editions of Nicholas' Historiae

As indicated, the majority of Nicholas’ works is lost. Apart from a number of

fragments preserved in other ancient writers, the majority of the fragments of

Nicholas' Historiae was preserved thanks to the efforts of the Byzantine Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus (AD 905—959), who ruled the empire nominally from 912-959, though de facto only from 945 onwards. On his orders a collection of encyclopaedic works, arranged in rubrics, to codify knowledge in various fields (history, medicine, zoology, etc.), was made, thus saving parts of

ancient literature. Work of 7 authors (mostly early Byzantine) has been kept thanks to his zeal (cf. Wilson 1996, 144). However, the bulk of this grand effort to preserve classical knowledge is lost. What remains is collected in the Excerpta Historica iussu Imperatoris Constantini [ VII] Porphyrogeniti Confecta, edited

by U.Ph.

Boissevain, C. de Boor, Th. Buettner-Wobst, vols. I-IV, at Berlin

(Berolini) between 1903 and 1910. Nicholas’ work was mainly preserved in the Excerpta de virtutibus et vitiis (= Vol. II, part 1, edited by Buettner-Wobst) and the Excerpta de insidiis (= Vol. III, edited by De Boor). Only a single fragment (FGrH No. 90 Ε 71), preserving a fragment of book 18 of Nicholas’ Universal History, was retrieved from the Excerpta de Thematibus.

The basis of the present editions of Nicholas’ Historiae as found in the Excerpta mainly rests upon two manuscripts, the Turonensis (containing the text of the

Excerpta de virtutibus ...) and the Escorialensis for the Excerpta de insidiis. The Tours manuscript, codex Turonensis 980 in full, dates from the middle of

the Xth century (or, less precise, Xth-XIth centuries) and shows all the characteristics of a manuscript manufactured on parchment at the imperial scriptorium.?? The manuscript from El Escorial, codex Escorialensis Q I 11 (olim I K 3 et I Z 2), like other manuscripts probably also comes from the legacy of the Jesuit

priest and, one might say, spiritual father of the Escorial library, Juan Páez de

Castro (1512-1570). This manuscript dated to somewhere in the XVIth century, unlike De Castro's, much older, manuscript of the Excerpta de legationibus, 27

Cf. J. Irigoin, »Pour une étude des centres de copie byzantins, IL-Quelques groupes de Manuscrits«, Seriptorium 13 (1959), 177 sqq.

84

2 The main transmitters

that may be dated between the Xth and XIIth centuries. The history of the manuscript of the Excerpta de insidiis before it came in De Castro's possession is largely unknown, but at least part of it may have belonged to the library of Didaci de Mendoza of Venice in 1543. Nicholas’ text proper counts two different hands?

Fortunately, this codex, written on parchment, was not destroyed

by the fire that struck El Escorial in 1671 and destroyed so many manuscripts. The text of the Excerpta de insidiis was complemented by Codex Parisinus Graecus

1666, especially for the parts relating to Johannes Antiochenus: for Nicholas this manuscript has no relevance.

The first edition of the Historiae was published by Henry de Valois (also known as Henricus Valesius) who lived from 1603 to 1676:

Polybii, Diodori

Siculi, Nicolai Damasceni, Dionysii Halicar., Appiani Alexand., Dionis et Ioannis Antiocheni Excerpta ex Collectaneis Constantini Augusti Porphyrogenetae / Henricus

Valesius nunc primum Graece edidit, Latine vertit notisque illustravit. It was published

at Paris (Parisiis, Mathurin du Puys: sumptibus Mathvrini dv Pvis: 1628—1643) in 1634. Somewhere in the first part of the XVIIth century another number of texts assembled on the order of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus was published by a Dutchman named Meurs(ius),? but this edition apparently did not include fragments of Nicholas. In his introduction to the fragments of Nicholas in the FHG (vol. III, 343) Müller mentions an edition of the codex Escorialensis—also including the fragments of N icholas—by Firmin Didot, which, how-

ever, I was unable to trace in the Netherlands. More recent editions of Nicholas’ Historiae were prepared by Johann Kas-

par von Orelli (1787—1849), Nicolao Damasceni Historiorum Excerpta . . ., Leipzig (Weidmann)

1804,

Karl (Carolus) Müller,

Fragmenta Historicorum

Graecorum

(= FHG), vol. III, 343—461 (for the Historiae 356—427), Paris (Didot) 1849, and L. Dindorf, Historici Graeci Minores, vol. 1, Leipzig (Teubner) 1870. The

presently current edition is by Felix Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, vol. IIA, No. 90, 324—430 and commentary, vol. IIC, 229-291, Berlin

(Weidmannische Buchh.) 1928. 28

C. de Boor (ed.), Excerpta de Insidiis, Berlin 1905, x—xv (volumen III of Excerpta Historica iussu

Imp. Constantini Porphyrogeniti Confecta, edd, U.Ph. Wobst).

29

Boissevain, C. de Boor, Th.

Büttner-

Cf. Athanassios Kambylis, »Abriss der byzantinischen Literatur in: Einleitung in die griechische Philologie, ed. H.-G. Nesselrath, Stuttgart/Leipzig 1997, 317.

2.3 Plutarch of Chaeronea

2.3 2.3.1

85

Plutarch of Chaeronea Life and works of Plutarch

A. Life Plutarch was probably born shortly before AD

50, but we have no indication

when exactly. Plutarch came from an old-established family from Chaeronea in Boeotia. Plutarch's great-grandfather had been one Nicarchus: he had witnessed the period of the struggle between Mark Antony and Octavian, culmin-

ating in the battle of Actium. Since the battle of Chaeronea (338 BC), which made Philip of Macedon ruler of all Greece, many wars and battles had devastated this region. Only when the Roman Empire started to offer some security, new opportunities, e.g. for industry, offered themselves, especially for the élite (Wilamowitz 1995, 48; cf. also Bremer 2005, 264—7). Family facts of Plutarch are few. We know that he had a half-brother, called Timon, we know the names of his grandfather, Lamprias (also the name of one

of his brothers), and his father, Autobulus (who always kept good horses);3° the name of his mother is unknown to us. One might suppose she died early (Ziegler 1964, 10) and that Plutarch's father remarried, from which marriage Timon was born. Though the family was wealthy (personal competence of Plutarch's grandfather and father ensured the family's prosperity and prestige: Wilamowitz 1995, 48), it appears from the long roll of local friends mentioned by Plutarch, that there was a sufficient number of people around who shared a similar life-style (cf. Russell 1973, 4). The family prospered, but prosperity

did not induce it to be involved in politics: it rather preferred to form a kind of academic dynasty that extended well into the fourth century AD (Russell

1973, 6).

It may, as Wilamowitz (1995, 48) suggests, have been prestige that played some part in the decision of Plutarch's father to send his son to Athens for higher education, a commodity Boeotia itself could not provide. At Athens, Plutarch entered the Academy, for a compulsory training in mathematics (to

teach the student to think properly) and to introduce him to other philosophical systems, not exclusively Plato's. Plutarch's writings testify a thorough occupa-

tion with the Peripatos (Bonazzi?' already demonstrated that long before Plut30

Ina personal mail Carsten Binder rightly pointed me at the references of Ziegler, RE XX1.1 (Stuttgart 1951) s.v. »Plutarchos« cc. 643 sq. and R.H. Barrow, Plutarch and his Times, London and Bloomington, IN 1967, 15 suggesting the name of Plutarch’s father might as well have

been Nicarchus: he is, of course, absolutely right. The problem is that Plutarch does not 31.

mention his father's name: the construction presented by Ziegler 1964, 8—9 persuaded me to opt for Autobulus. M. Bonazzi/V. Celluprica, L’eredita Platonica. Studi sul Platonismo da Arcesilao a Proclo, Napoli 2005.

86

2 The main transmitters

arch’s days Platonists took Aristotle to be an important guide to the teachings of Plato's dialogues)—to which he owes a good deal regarding his knowledge of science—and Epicurus and the Stoa. Of his teacher(s) Plutarch mentions only Ammonius (of Lamptrae [?]). The education by Ammonius had been preceded by a thorough rhetorical training (c£. Ziegler 1964, 17). Also regarding his married life facts are scarce. He married his wife, Timox-

ena, daughter of Alexion (probably also from Chaeronea), apparently when he still was quite young, i.e. roughly before the age of 25.

Probably four sons

and one daughter, Timoxena (who died in infancy), were born from the marriage. Only two of his sons, called Autobulus and Plutarch, seem to have survived their father (Ziegler 1964, 13).

Probably shortly after their marriage,

Plutarch and his wife were both initiated into the mysteries of Dionysus and, apparently, continued to believe in the immortality of the soul (cf. Consolatio

ad uxorem, 611D). Plutarch travelled a good deal, visiting Asia Minor (Ephesus and/or Sardis: Ziegler 1964, 18), Alexandria, and Italy, going at least twice to Rome, one time

in the late seventies and one time in the early nineties of the Ist century (Ziegler 1964, 20). He acquired Roman citizenship with equestrian status?” (he already had Athenian citizenship as well, being incorporated within the phyle Leontis),

and finally ornamenta consularia and an appointment as an imperial procurator in Achaea.

Perhaps still more important, he acquired also at Rome a number

of influential friendships.

Once settled in Boeotia, he still travelled regularly

to Athens, to visit the Academy and probably also to consult books (v. infra,

section E).

Much of his work shows that Plutarch became a kind of (voluntary) headmaster of a dependency of the Athenian Academy at Chaeronea.

Discussions

were held in the tradition of the Peripatos. Main subject and goal of the teaching was philosophy as ἃ τέχνη βίου (»skill of living), with ethics at first rank, though other fields of research were not neglected (Ziegler 1964, 26—8). Plutarch's teaching was, however, also directed to Romans. He wanted them to be

educated in statesmanship: »a firm philosophical foundation is essential for the politician« (Stadter 2002, 126). In line with Plato's acts he considered this activity of the utmost importance: the »duty of a philosopher was never of greater importance« (Stadter 2002, 130). 32

The Delphian inscription CIG 1713 = Syll.3 829 indicates that Plutarch had the Roman nomen

gentis Mestrius (he had acquired it through his friend L. Mestrius Florus [Ziegler 1964, 51]) and held Roman citizen rights; IG VII 3423 = Syll? 843 proves that he left this name to his children. The inscription may date to AD 119; also in the Chronicle of Eusebius, Plutarch is

mentioned for the year 2135 ab Abrah. Ξ AD 119 (with thanks to Carsten Binder for pointing me at this reference).

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

87

Plutarch's direct political activities were, more or less, restricted to those obligations which a citizen from a family of that distinction was expected to fulfil.

Nevertheless, his political importance increased by his friendship with Sosius Senecio, friend and confident of the Emperor Trajan. It was this emperor who bestowed upon Plutarch consular dignity and ordered that no one in charge of

Illyria was allowed to act against his (= Plutarch’s) views (Suda x, 1793). It stands to reason to believe that something like a personal relationship between the emperor and Plutarch developed and that Plutarch did not resent such a relation

at all, in line with Plato's example (Ziegler 1964, 21—2).

Plutarch's duties at Chaeronea were of public nature. Next to these he also was a priest and administrator (epimelétés) at Delphi, a position one held, once elected, for life. The inscription CIG 1713 = Syll.? 829, on a statue of the em-

peror to be dated in the early years of Hadrian (cf. Ziegler 1964, 6), states that the statue was donated by the κοινόν (»community«) of the Amphictyones and was erected ἐπιμελητεύοντος ἀπὸ Δελφῶν Μεστρίου Πλουτάρχου τοῦ ἱερέως

(von behalf of Delphi arranged by Plutarch at the time of Hadrian's Delphi, a position which he had respublica gerenda sit, 792F) »many

Mestrius Plutarchus the priest). It shows that accession was one of the two acting priests at held (according to his own words in An seni pythiads« Ziegler believes that »many« must

mean here at least five, and that, therefore, Plutarch must have served at least

twenty years as a priest at Delphi, sc. starting in the mid or late nineties AD (Ziegler 1964, 24).? How and why he was chosen remains unsolved. It cannot be proven that Plutarch's family owned the proxeny and consequently land and houses at Delphi of old, nor that he therefore automatically had been a citizen of Delphi and could become a functionary of city and temple. When a statue of the emperor was required again, in AD 125, someone else is found in charge. It

apparently provides us with a terminus ante quem for the time of his death: before AD

125.

After his death Plutarch was honoured at Delphi with a herm, erec-

' ted by the people of Delphi together with the Chaeroneans, according to the Amphictyonic precepts (Syll.? 843A). Also at Chaeronea he was remembered by a statue (Syll.? 8438). B.

Views

From the times of Nero the life-style of the Greeks changed and developed into the renascence of the second century, to which Plutarch’s work belongs. Plut-

arch's views are, more or less naturally, coloured by his personal background 33

By the times of Plutarch the importance of Delphi had, possibly duc to the consequences

of the devastating earthquake of 373, enormously decreased in comparison with its most successful days, sc. the 6th—4th centuries: cf., e.g., Jan P. Stronk, » Anonymous on Siphnos (553 E. 2k in: Brill’s New Jacoby, ed. I. Worthington, Brill Online, 2007-.

88

2 The main transmitters

(which situated him among the wealthy upper class) and the Greek renascence. In various works he emerges as a devout philhellene, though by no means blind to the interests of his class.

It sometimes leads to ἃ paradoxical situation, like

in his Lives of Flamininus and Aemilius Paullus. The former was responsible for the end of nominal Greek liberty (in spite of his proclamation of Greek freedom), the latter for the factual incorporation of Greece within the Roman

Empire. Even so, Plutarch is full of praise for them, not only because they were men of high moral standing, philhellenes (indeed!), and they had come to liberate the Greeks from the domination of the Macedonians, but most of all because

they had liberated the Greek élite from social unrest. The Romans favoured the wealthy and the noble and allowed them to rule the demos in the name of

Rome (cf. Bremer 2005, 264—7). Throughout his works Plutarch describes the people as ὁ ὄχλος (»the mob«) or qualifies it as a »suspicious and multifarious wild animal« (Plu. , Praecepta gerendae rei publicae, 800C; cf. Said 2005, passim),

expressing the huge gap between the majority of the Greek population and his own class.

The dominating impression, however, one gets reading Plutarch is that of optimism. Russell believes that the optimism so characteristic of Plutarch may, partly, have been caused because he witnessed the beginning revival in his own

country of Greek civilization (Russell 1973, 2). Plutarch probably was, in many respects, no original thinker. His importance largely derives from his talent to make people acquainted with the ideas of others, firmly believing in Plato's doctrines but much less adamant than the master, due to Plutarch's sincere hu-

manism (Ziegler 1964, 273). Of course, Plato's school had changed over the five centuries that separated Plato and Plutarch. According to Russell, »Plut-

arch was a declared and consistent Platonist, even if he was not in all respects in

agreement with the orthodoxy of the school« (Russell 1973, 63). Though also

other philosophical schools retained their audience (Marcus Aurelius adhered to

the Stoic doctrines), Platonism became, be it in new and developing forms, the leading philosophical sect in late antiquity, if only because of Plato's mastery of pure Attic. However, Plutarch was almost equally indebted to Aristotelian-peripatetic

science and had even occupied himself with the ancient and middle Stoa. We might say that Plutarch's philosophy was eclectic, though dominated by a Platonic superstructure. In Plutarch's views the most important part of philosophy

were ethics. His prime goal was to guide himself and others to virtue, ἀρετή, and happiness, εὐδαιμονία, which rests thereon (Ziegler 1964, 305). In this view virtue is the control of the ratio over passions, in the sense of the Peripatetic μετριοπάθεια, »restraint«, (though Plutarch hardly ever uses this word

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

89

in a terminological sense). Another important subject in the training of (and by) Plutarch was poetry, notably Homer (cf.

debeat,

Quomodo adolescens poetas audire

14D —37B). History was considered as an arsenal of examples for ethics.

Plutarch's philosophical views started and ended with ethics or, to be more precise,

the

moral

orientation

of behaviour

(Russell

1973,

64—66).

"The

most comprehensive of his surviving ethical works is the De Virtute morali, 4&0D—452D. In a sense it is a curious work: though Platonic in substance,

the terminology he uses is rather Aristotelean, showing that the details of his moral views derived to a large extent from the»Lyceum«. Time and again Plutarch stresses in the Lives the importance of a proper education, directed at a

strengthening of good tendencies and eradication of the pernicious (cf. Russell 1973, 85—6). In this respect one might argue that in the still ongoing contro-

versy within behavioural sciences regarding the primacy of »nature< or »nurture« Plutarch chooses for»nurture«.

Plutarch’s conception of change and development in the character of people is consistent with Greek thought. Essentially, he distinguishes two elements (though the distinction is incidentally blurred, cf. Russell 1995, 85 and

note 34). The first, ἦθος (»disposition«, »character«), which he associates after Aristotle with ἔθος (»custom«, »habit«), is confined to the overt and publicly exposed sides of the personality. This part is liable to changes, be it due to ex-

ternal or personal circumstances. The second element, the φύσις, is the given

or inherited part of the personality. Changes are not clearly indicated for this element, but the possibility of degeneration appears to be left open (Russell

1995, 85).

C. The author

Plutarch wrote in a very distinctive style: he created a remarkably facile and rich linguistic tool to express his ideas. Ultimately it was based upon the fourthcentury BC Attic, especially considering syntax and morphology, but in fact mainly a reformed Hellenistic Greek (Russell 1973, 20—2; cf. also Ziegler 1964, 294). This Atticist style originated early in the Second Sophistic (c. AD 60—230) and was the hallmark of the »pepaideumenos:, the well-educated writer,

and remained that during many centuries to come (cf. infra p. 123 sq.). 34

Arist. EN ILvi.15 (1106b30—1107a1): [ἔστιν ἀρετὴ] μεσότης δὲ δύο κακιῶν, τῆς μὲν καθ᾽ ὑπερβολὴν τῆς δὲ κατ᾽ ἔλλειψιν... (»[virtue stands] midway between two evils, one

of excess and one of defect«). 35

Cf.

E. Norden, Die antike Kunstprosa, Stuttgart/Leipzig 1995 |Neudruck 3. Auflage 1915],

esp. p. 344 sqq.; also: T. Whitmarsh, Greek Literature and the Roman Empire. Imitation, Oxford 2001, passim.

Even Roman

The Politics of

authors tried to emulate this form of Greek,

like Aelian: cf. N.G. Wilson's introduction to Aclian’s Varia Historia (= Historical Miscellany),

published in the Loeb series in 1997, p. 3.

90

2

The main transmitters

Ofthe works of Plutarch survive 48 Lives, all but four of which belong to the series known as the Parallel Lives, and over seventy miscellaneous works known as the Moralia (cf. DNP, s.v. ‚Plutarchos«, 1167-1170). The corpus as we have it

is the result of the efforts of Byzantine collectors to assemble Plutarch's works, most magnificently achieved by Maximus Planudes in the late XIIIth and early XIVth centuries (v. infra, Ch. 1.2.3.2 and note 48). Plutarch’s literary legacy is among the most numerous of all pagan Greek writers: nevertheless, it may

be estimated that what is left to us only amounts to about half of his total production.

The estimation is based upon indirect transmission of lost texts and

especially upon the data provided by the»catalogue of Lamprias«.

In the Suda (A, 96) we read that Plutarch's son Lamprias wrote a catalogue of all the works his father had written on Greek and Roman history.

This cata-

logue is kept in several manuscripts (the most ancient being Parisinus gr. 1678 from the XIIth century), in some preceded by a letter. The letter is a forgery, dating from the XIIIth or XIVth century; the catalogue itself probably dates back to the IlIrd or IVth century. Apart from the fact that Plutarch—as far as we know—did not have a son by the name of Lamprias (though the name was current in the family: v. supra), the catalogue shows a lack of knowledge of Plutarch's works as one would not expect to see with one of his sons (Ziegler

1964, 60).

The catalogue lists a total of 227 works: of these 83 are preserved. However, the catalogue omits 18 preserved works of Plutarch as well as 15 works that are partially or indirectly transmitted. Inserting these and deleting some spuria, like (as number 56) Aristotle's Topics, one reaches a number of 250 to 260 works written by Plutarch. Massive as the number of works is, it is not exceptional. More ancient writers have written on this scale, though even the Suda (x, 1793) admits: ἔγραψε δὲ πολλά (he wrote a lote). What is unusual, is the high proportion of Plutarch's works that has survived. Perhaps this may be explained by the fact that Plutarch remained also popular in the Christian era," also because of his mastery of classical Greek, though it was in fact rather

a dazzling blend inspired by the Greek of the 4th century. Here we already en36

Ziegler 1964, 65. »Jolin Mauropus in the XIth century prays in a poem that Christ, if He will save any pagan from wrath, may exempt Plato and Plutarch, the two who were by nature nearest to the law >in doctrine and in character«:

Russell 1973, 146. The Metropolitan of

Euchaita (N Asia Minor, province of Pontus) wrote: εἴπερ τινὰς βούλοιο τῶν ἀλλοτρίων | τῆς σῆς ἀπειλῇς ἐξελέσθαι,

Χριστέ

pov,

Πλάτωνα

xoi Πλούταρχον

ἐξέλοιο pov

|

ἄμφω γάρ εἰσι καὶ λόγον καὶ τὸν τρόπον | τοῖς σοῖς νόμοις ἔγγιστα προσπεφυκότες, | εἰ δ’ ἠγνόησαν ὡς Θεὸς σὺ τῶν ὅλων ἐνταῦθα τῆς ang χρηστότητος δεῖ μόνον | δι᾿ ἦν ἅπαντας δωρεὰν σώζειν θέλεις.

In the translation of J. Oakesmith, The Religion of

Plutarch, London 1902, 203 it runs as follows: »If any Pagans, Lord, Thy grace shall save | From wrath divine, this boon I humbly crave, | Plato and Plutarch save: Thine was the cause | Their speech supported : Thine, too, were the laws | Their hearts obeyed; and if their eyes

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

QI

counter the fascination for the Greek of the classical period that would, at least, continue until late in the Byzantine period (v. et infra 1.2.4.1 sub E, p. 129 sq.). We already encountered Plutarch as the author of a number of Lives. Here,

too, Aristotle's influence is tangible. One might even say that without Aristotle chere would not have been a Plutarchean biography. Not only do the Ethics contain all the elemental assumptions, but also did Aristotle undertake an enormous amount of collecting and arranging of facts of social and polit-

ical history. His successor in the Peripatos, Theophrastus, supplied the collection of observations in ethics: that his works are lost means a serious gap in

our knowledge of Plutarch's antecedents (Russell 1973, 105). Another significant predecessor was Polybius. His views regarding biography and history appear to link up with Plutarch's:

ὥσπερ

γὰρ

Exeivog ὁ τόπος.

ὑπάρχων

ἐγκωμιαστικός. ἀπήτει τὸν κεφαλαιώδη xoi μετ᾽ αὐξήσεως τῶν πράξεων ἀπολογισμόν, οὕτως ὁ τῆς ἱστορίας, κοινὸς ὧν ἐπαίνου καὶ θόγου,. ζητεῖ τὸν

ἀληθῇ καὶ τὸν μετ᾽ ἀποδείξεως καὶ τῶν ἑκάστοις παρεπομένων συλλογισμῶν (»Because that work [sc. biography, JPS], being an encomium, demands an outlined and enlarged account of his deeds, the present history, in which praise and blame go hand in hand, likewise seeks an absolutely truthful account and one

that explains the reasons for either praise or blame«: Pol. X.xxi.8). Plutarch uses similar arguments, both in his (perhaps biased) criticism of Herodotus and

in the aims he outlines for various of the Lives (v. infra). In her preface to the Essays on Plutarch’s Lives Scardigli describes that, according to Friedrich Leo,” the Peripatos generated two veins of biography. The

first is an erudite-antiquarian vein, classified and ordered to topics but disregarding chronological data, the second an ethical-political vein, with biograph-

ical narration in chronological order. In both it was preferred for political men to show their virtue in (and by) the course of their actions. A representative of the first category —still according to Scardigli—is Suetonius, Nepos of the second. Also Nicholas’ »biography: of Augustus might belong to this category. Plutarch holds an intermediate position: he discusses the difference between

history and biography and he knows —and uses—historical sources of various kinds (Scardigli 1995, 7). Leo was really the first modern scholar who attempted to define Plutarch’s position in the history of Greek biography (cf. Ziegler 1964, 268).

In the biographies themselves written by Plutarch, Leo dis-

were blind | To recognize Thee Lord of human kind | Needs only that Thy gift of grace be shown | To bring them, and bring all men, to the Throne.«

37

Fr.

Leo, Die griechisch-rómische Biographie nach ihrer literarischen Form, Leipzig 1901 [repr.

Hildesheim 1965], 146 sqq. gives a thorough account of Plutarch as a biographer. In a personal communication Carsten Binder rightly remarks that he is unable to see a specific Aristotelian or Alexandrian biography:

it might raise doubts regarding Leo's (and implicitly

Scardigli’s) antithesis. For argument's sake I have nevertheless decided to maintain this view as an accepted starting-point, especially because much evidence of early biography is lost.

2

92

The main transmitters

cerns generally two parts, which he calls, in Plutarchean fashion, »character«

(ἦθος) and »acts« (πράξεις). Leo underlines, however, that Plutarch does not always write completely according to his schedule and that, moreover, the border

between the two elements is fluid and not always clear to discern. As Leo's efforts show, it is difficult to state that Plutarch fits in a specific tradition within Greek Hellenistic biography, since he is virtually our most import-

ant source for it. What we can state, is that the categories of ἤθη used by him were derived from the Ethics and Rhetoric of Aristotle. At the same time Plutarch

abundantly shows that he does not write history. It leaves him room to epitomize or expand at will, to arrange his material as he likes, unbound by his sources,

and unbound by chronology. One example may suffice: Alcib. XV.3—5 took place two years after the events described in XV.6: it is not a narrative, but a treatment of one aspect of Alcibiades' policy (cf. Russell 1995, 86). It clearly shows that βίον γραφεῖν (»bion grafein«, »to write a»Life«) is something different

than what we are used to call a biography, »bios roughly meaning »way of life«. To describe someone's bios was an attempt to make out what kind of person he (generally, though incidentally, such as in the »Artaxerxes« also she, sc. Parys-

atis, the king's mother) was: ποῖος τις ἦν. This method has some consequences (cf. Russell 1973, 101-3): * chronology and development in time are of secondary importance even

though the overall arrangement is chronologically straightforward; the facts are presented not so much for their intrinsic interest as in evidence to support a general judgement; * moral assumptions are predominant, and we are expected to allocate praise and blame; but the moral judgements are anachronistic:

no real

effort has been made to bring back the distinctive ways of thinking of past periods along with their colour and magnificence; * Plutarch barely notices the wider historical influence of his heroes, because he is occupied with their individual human qualities. D. Plutarch and history

As by most, Thucydides was also presented by Plutarch in a class of his own among historians. He appears to show his reverence in the introduction to the Life of Nicias, at the same time explaining his own method and aims: »Of course, it is not possible to omit the events treated by Thucydides and Philistus ... But I

have summarized them briefly and kept to the essentials, just to avoid the charge of total negligence. I have tried instead to collect material that is not well-

known, but scattered among other authors, or found on ancient dedications

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

93

and decrees. Nor is this an accumulation of useless erudition: I am conveying material that is helpful for grasping the man's nature and character« (Plu. Nic.

1.1-5).38

One rather precise picture of what he meant by this may be seen in his treatment of the battle of Cunaxa in the Life of Artaxerxes. He starts by saying that many have written about this battle, that especially Xenophon describes the battle most vividly, that, therefore, it would be madness to do it all over again πλὴν ὅσα τῶν ἀξίων λόγου παρῆλθεν εἰπεῖν ἐκεῖνον (except so far as

he [= Xenophon, JPS] has passed over things worthy of mention«: Plu. Art. VIII. 1). And what were these things? They were Clearchus’ temerity, his intention to avoid losses instead of saving his leader and employer, compared with the right temerity worthy of a king (or one who likes to become the king), shown by Cyrus the Younger. In a relatively short passage, VIII.2-7, Clearchus' actions are briefly described, his loyalty is questioned, and his character in fact condemned

(cf.

Frazier 1996, 32).

At the same time also the importance of

Xenophon as a historical source has explicitly been reduced. According to García Moreno (1992, 143), Plutarch and his Parallel Lives should be included in the ἱστορίας ἀληθοῦς τρόπος πρακτικός (»appropriate way of honest history« as Sextus Empiricus saw it: cf., e.g., S.E. Against the Logicians). His was a history to teach moral values, in which the facts were outweighed by the verisimilitude; moreover, a verisimilitude that was less limited

than it is at present. More important still, as a good Aristotelian (still according to García Moreno), Plutarch believed in the »superiority of poetry over history since the former was closer to the essence of things and further from contingency and chances. To bring the second as close as possible to the first, it was obvious that it was necessary to abandon the narrative forms inaugurated by Thucydides and Polybius in historiography and return to the traditional ones, in which, instead of political analyses, anecdote and generals would occupy the greater part of the discourse. All this makes clear that historical truth, as we consider it, was not a concept of primary importance for Plutarch's goals. History, and historiography, was a tool; virtue the aim to be achieved. Once again he showed himself a kind of

schoolmaster, though at a much grander scale than at home in Chaeronea. In these enlightened days few would claim that Plutarch was in any sense writing history. Now, one tends to give full weight to the explicit disclaimer in 38

Scardigli remarks that the disclaimers occurring in several introductions may derive from the Peripatetics, who distinguish between πρᾶξις and ἤθη. Nevertheless, she states, large part of Plutarch's material comes from work of a historical nature: cf. Scardigli 1992, 109. Contrary stands the view of M. Hose, The Peloponnesian War: Sources other than Thucydides«, pp. 669—690, 674 in Rengakos/Tsakmakis 2006, who argues that much of the material

of Plutarch regarding 5th century's characters stems from varied sources, especially comedy.

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2 The main transmitters

the Life of Alexander (»We are not writing history but lives«: Plu. Alex. 1.1-2). What commands attentionis Plutarch's illustration of character, his manipula-

tion of anecdote, and apophthegm in the service of literary portraiture (Bosworth 1992, 56).

It is clear: Plutarch is not a biographer, but a writer of bioi, »lives«, with the ultimate aim to teach man virtue. According to current ideas, the differ-

ence between biographer and historian lies within the choice of material, the first preferring »small facts:, the second the »great events. Regarding the intentions and »paedagogic« ideas of Plutarch such a distinction cannot be made. Every classical historian— Thucydides certainly not excluded—also wishes to instruct his reader to some extent, and moral issues take an important place in his lessons because men, with their reason and their passions, play a major part in the march of history. The difference is, however, that the historian tends

to analyse the historical causality to increase understanding of facts of the same order (allegedly one of the aims of the speeches in Thucydides’ account??), and to learn how to deal with them. The biographer, on the other hand, attaches

no importance whatsoever to the causal chain, a form of contempt which shows itselfin the very elaboration of the story (Frazier 1996, 95). So far we only discussed »virtue« as a single, indivisible conception. In actual practice Plutarch discerns—as Nicholas of Damascus, in Peripatetic tradition,

had done (cf. Parmentier-Morin 1998, 38—9)— various properties which, together, constitute »virtue«.

The main properties to be discerned are φρόνησις

(phronésis), σωφροσύνη (sophrosyné), δυκαιοσύνη (dikaiosyné), and ἀνδρεία (andreia). Basically phronésis discerns good and bad, sofrosyné knows what to look for and what to avoid, andreia what to fear or not to fear, and dikaiosyné what is due to each one (Frazier 1996, 177). In the Lives one frequently finds associated either andreia, phronésis, and dikaiosyné or only the first two. In Plutarch’s view, dikaiosyné is the result of a voluntary moral choice. Andreia and phronésis

generally may be considered as simple natural gifts and may occur in various shapes and forms. All other properties, like philanthropy, energy (to drastérion), valour (thymos), etc. are somehow derived from or dependent on the four main properties (Frazier 1996, 180 sqq.). E. Plutarch at work Above (p. 85 sq.) we already referred to visits to Athens by Plutarch, i.a. to con-

sult libraries. The first public library in Athens had been founded by Peisistratus in the 6th century. However, libraries like those of Plato's Academy and Ar39

CfÉJ.V. Morrison, "Interaction of Speech and Narrative in Thucydides« pp. 251-278 and H.-

P. Stahl, » Narrative Unity and Consistency of Thought: Composition of Event Sequences in Thucydides, pp. 301—334, both published in Rengakos/Tsakmakis, 2006.

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

95

istotle's Lyceum, the earliest examples of a research library (though certainly the latter had, by the time of Plutarch, long been removed from Athens:

cf.

Plu. Sulla XXIX), were much more serviceable (cf. Str. XIII.i.54; Diog.Laert. VIII.15). Even though facts, probably, were of secondary importance to him, he needed sources. Explaining Plutarch’s method of work, Pelling states that Plutarch, »following his usual practice, has only one source »open in hims, ..., and supplements that source from his memory of other doubtless a memory primed by recent rereading. That would explain might transplant some material into a slightly different context, and

front of writers, why he perhaps

why he slightly misremembered a proposal or a figure« (Pelling 1992, 12). It implies that we should be prepared to expect that additional material is presen-

ted by Plutarch»under the umbrella: of a specific source. Discussing Plutarch's sources, Stadter stipulates that the most recent subject in his series of Lives, sc. Mark Antony, lived more than a century earlier, and Pericles and Alcibiades more than half a millennium earlier than Plutarch himself.

»We know that he

was not in most cases dependent on earlier biographies that assembled his material and established thematic consistency.

The structure, unifying themes,

and psychological insight of the Lives define Plutarchian biography, and nothing like it existed before. ... Plutarch had to construct his lives from written sources, usually historians« (Stadter 1992, 3; cf. , however, also supra, note 38). Since most of the works of those authors are lost, we do not have the possibility

to check how this construction was performed. As it is, we cannot begin to imagine the problems Plutarch faced in collecting his sources. When we discuss classical literature, we are in fact dealing with a countable number of texts, but even the libraries of Athens only counted a chance selection ofan enormous amount of texts. The number of texts present

at Chaeronea itself will, probably, have been limited to those Plutarch and his circle of friends owned themselves. Moreover, few works existed in many cop-

ies, and a scholar could only hope to see a few works he heard of. Add to this the problem of looking-up passages in papyrus rolls, and it must become obvious that any writer, but surely a writer dealing with such a variety of topics as Plutarch, faced a titanic task (cf. also Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 2). This could only be facilitated by relying whenever necessary on opinions and references at second or third hand (Russell 1973, 42; also Ziegler 1964, 273, 277). Τὸ facilit-

ate things further, there also existed prepared sets of extracts on various themes. Apart from these, Plutarch himself also collected excerpts and commonplaces.

Considering that Plutarch's extant works contain some 7,000 quotations,'? we may assume that these are not all from works he had rcad himself. Nevertheless, 40

In the Lives, Plutarch quoted in approximately 500 passages 111 Greek resp. Greek writing

writers and in addition on some 130 places 40 Latin authors: Ziegler 1964, 273 (Plutarch started to read Latin authors when he already was at an advanced age: Ziegler 1964, 289).

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2 The main transmitters

there is sufficient evidence that he was well versed in various fields of classical lit-

erature by first-hand reading (Russell 1973, 46—7; also Ziegler 1964, 277—285). Every βίος is based upon previous historiographic texts but rarely upon a

single work. Plutarch had read widely and probably remembered more than a modern scholar easily thinks possible (Russell 1995, 87). As for the project of the Parallel Lives, Plutarch was forced to extend his readings. He was, as we must assume, familiar with the classical historians of Greece. 'To become familiar

with Roman history he, however, had (though he might to some extent rely on Dionysius of Halicarnassus and, of course, Polybius) also to take to reading Latin: Sallust, Nepos, and especially Livy (Russell 1973, 54—5).

Pelling argues that Plutarch, too, (as C. Asinius Pollio had done: cf. Pelling 2002, 13) streamlined his source-material in various ways and for different pur-

poses. He condensed it by conflation of similar items, chronological compression, dislocation etc. , he enlarged it by fabrication of circumstantial detail and

the like.

Whether or not the compositional devices were always used con-

sciously is, according to Pelling, not sure (Pelling 1995, 133; cf. also Pelling

2002, 96). Also the way Plutarch deals with his source-material is not always

balanced.

Sometimes he is impressively critical, sometimes just as impress-

ively credulous; his judgements sometimes sensible, sometimes senseless; and

he baffles his (present) reader equally by his insight and his blindness.

Unfor-

tunately, one of the things we will never be able to discover completely is the

way Plutarch treated every separate source: most of Plutarch's sources are now no longer extant.

It is, however, as Stadter summarizes, a dangerous business

to reconstruct a lost work on the basis of Plutarch's narrative (Stadter 1992, 4; cf. also Bosworth 1992, 79—80).

So far we have seen that the foundation of Plutarch's works is laid upon a solid base of Platonism and the Peripatos. The Peripatos influenced him not so much in the choice of factual material as well as in the general principles of composition, his programmatic declarations, the insertion of anecdotes, and, occa-

sionally, the Peripatetic typology (for which especially Theophrastus is known). It should, however, be stressed that Plutarch's characters generally are quite complex and not at all stereotypes (Scardigli 1995, 8 sq.). One of the frustrat-

ing and very un-Aristotelian elements is Plutarch's neglect of chronology (that we already encountered), another his love for anecdotes—he inserts them even knowing that the story cannot be true, like Solon's meeting with Croesus.

The major purposes of the stories are to illuminate judgements or moral ideas. As one might expect, the reduction of history to a collection of isolated facts detaches great periods, but also occurrences or even their very phases. Within the remaining entities Plutarch myopically stumbles around, scrutinizing and revealing details irrespective of considerations regarding the historical portent of the facts (Frazier 1996, 68). If one should define the rhetoric of the

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Plutarch of Chaeronea

97

Lives, one might compare it with the practice of a lawyer unravelling a tangled case, picking those which suit him best (Frazier 1996, 69). Bosworth rightly argues that Plutarch's main criterion is consistency, not credibility. It affects the

reproduction of his source material and leads to an extreme simplification of the historical picture to obtain a, seemingly, monotone and bland image without overt contradictions (cf. Bosworth

1992, 70). As Frazier notices, Plutarch ma-

nipulates history in order to create what he desires. Also in his »stylisation« Plutarch shows his disrespect for historic precision. In

the case of Agesilaus, Plutarch almost casually omits five years of negotiations and the signing of a treaty as he wants to blame Agesilaus for the moral scandal of treason of the Greek cause by Sparta (cf. Frazier 1996, 24—5). A comparable

contempt for historic causality in comparison with the primate of the moral is shown in what P. Lévéque (Pyrrhos, 1957, 137 n. 3) calls a »chronologie in-

cohérente«, regarding chapter VII of Plutarch's Pyrrhus. Again, regarding Brutus, Plutarch does not tell a story, he rewrites history. He recreates what might

have happened, and the recreation serves to help to judge the person (Frazier

1996, 22).

One might state that one of Plutarch's greatest attractions has been his ability to use historical figures to contemplate the play of human qualities in action, to reveal the cast that vices and virtues assume in the contingent world of political leadership and strife (cf. Stadter 1992, 1). Overall, it shows that Plutarch's main interest lies in character.

As he himself explains (Per.

1—2, Aem.

1, Dtr.

1), he hopes that his readers may be led by the virtue of other men to improve

themselves and be deterred from evil by examples of wickedness. This is a general topic in ancient biography from the 3rd century onwards in general, and in, e.g., Posidonius and Plutarch in particular (cf. also Von Fritz 1956, 105). Con-

sequently one may safely say that historically Plutarch's analyses do not hold, but morally they are capital. As Frazier puts it: »On voit ainsi s'établir une causalité différente de la causalité historique, purement morale et négligeant les détails politiques spécifiques ou la chronologie. Sautant d'un événement à un autre, supprimant les intermédiaires inutiles à ses yeux, le moraliste construit

un récit stylisé« (Frazier 1996, 28). F. Plutarch and Herodotus Reading the Parallel Lives, one notices the limited amount of attention Plutarch paid to Herodotus as a source. It might lead to the idea that Plutarch

had an insufficient knowledge of Herodotus’ work. His De Herodoti Malignitate (854E—874C) shows that such an assumption would be completely wrong. It shows that Plutarch knew the Historiae extremely well, but did not like the work

(cf. Russell 1973, 60). Plutarch's starting point is made clear right in the begin-

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ning: μάλιστα πρός τε Βοιωτοὺς καὶ Κορινθίους κέχρηται μηδὲ τινὸς ἀπεσχημένος. οἶμαι προσήκειν ἡμῖν, ἀμυνομένοις ὑπὲρ τῶν ἅμα καὶ τῆς ἀληθείας. κατ᾿ αὐτὸ τοῦτο τῆς γραφῆς τὸ μέρος: ... [= Fidt.] principal victims are the Boeotians and the Corinthians,

τῶν ἄλλων προγόνων (»Since his though he

spares no one, I think it is proper that I should now stand up for the cause of my ancestors and the cause of truth and show how dishonest this part of the work is« [854F, transl. L. Pearson, Loeb Classical Library, my italics, JPS]). But this treatise is not just an apology for the Boeotians and Corinthians. The very word kakoétheia implies malice, duplicity, a preference for putting the worst interpretation on other people's acts, insincerity, and deliberate falsi-

fication of facts. Throughout the essay we find Plutarch's suggestions of such behaviour by Herodotus. In fact, Herodotus is accused of eight ways of displaying »malicex (855B—856D; cf. also Russell 1973, 61) and by consequence is

depicted as insufficiently objective. At the same time emerges Plutarch's view on the historian's task, which he also shows in his various Lives:

a historian

should present worthy characters and fit models for imitation by the young; he should offer edification and moral lessons rather than critical accuracy." Plutarch shows his true colours in 857A sqq., when he accuses Herodotus

that he was a φιλοβάρβαρος (»pro-barbarian«) and that he favours foreign (not-

ably Persian, but also Egyptian and Phoenician) accounts over Greek ones. The charges are, once again, summarized in the final paragraphs (874B—C). Especially his last words are noteworthy: . . . (vo μὴ λάθωμεν ἀτόπους xoi ψευδεῖς περὶ τῶν

ἀρίστων

xol μεγίστων

τῆς Ἑλλάδος

πόλεων

καὶ

ἀνδρῶν

δόξας

λαβόντες (». .. we must not be tricked into accepting unworthy and false notions about the greatest and best cities and men of Greece« [translation L. Pearson]). We notice a considerable change in gist between opening statement— where

Plutarch claims only to aim at a rehabilitation of Corinth and Thebes—and the final result: Herodotus is a thoroughly bad lot because he is taken for a ride by foreign stories (which cannot be good because they are not Greek). Where he appears to accept and defend Polybius' thesis in the beginning, he is completely astray at the end. Plutarch's view sounds, ultimately, very biased and, in a sense, rather uncrit-

ical, especially towards non-Greek sources. Regarding Plutarch’s criticism of

Herodotus Ziegler remarks that it is: »... ungerecht, mangelhaft, oft kindlich begründet und offenbar ... von dem Árger über die ungünstige Behandlung, 41

Plutarch appears to extend and to generalize Plato's complaint, expressed in Republic 11—11I (377A-390B) »that much of the poetry currently used in education is unsuitable for educating

the Guardians of his ideal state. Poetry sets a bad moral example, since it misrepresents the nature of divinity, notably in the crude and violent tales of the Olympian gods, and there are similar faults in its depiction of the heroes of old, who are shown as unable to control their

emotions« (Janko 1987, xi).

2.3 Plutarch of Chaeronea

99

die die Thebaner bei Herodot erfahren haben, diktiert« (Ziegler 1964, 234).

More important for historiography is the contrast in the method of approach of both men. Herodotus, relentlessly looking for truth (though of course not necessarily finding it) and—to some extent—unhampered by nationalistic feelings (cf. Redfield 2002), Plutarch looking at the Hellenic past »durch die rosenrote Brille des schwärmenden Romantikers ... und ... von nichts anderem als von Ruhmestaten und überschwänglichen Edelmut hören will« (Ziegler 1964, 234). G. Plutarch and Ctesias

So far Plutarch on Herodotus. But what about Plutarch on Ctesias? As we have seen, Ctesias claims to have relied mainly on Persian—so non-Greek —sources. He should, therefore, automatically be suspect in the eyes of Plutarch, at least if we were allowed to pursue Plutarch's sentiments consequently. Nevertheless Ctesias is presented in the Life of Artaxerxes as one of Plutarch's main sources for this work. However, the Life of Artaxerxes occupies a somewhat peculiar position within Plutarch's oeuvre. First it obviously is not a treatise that neatly fits in within his Moralia, nor does it in the series of the Parallel Lives, the subject so manifestly being a barbarian. Moreover, it would be hard to imagine which Greek or Roman

ruler might have served as the Persian's counterpart. The only suitable candidate I can think of would have been the Emperor Nero. From the »catalogue of Lamprias« we know that Plutarch did compose a Life of Nero (featuring as number 30 of the list), now lost. However, this Life was not intended as a counterpart

for the Artaxerxes: it was one of a series of biographies on the various emperors starting with Augustus. Second, assuming that one of the goals of the Lives was to show ποῖος τις Tiv, »what kind of person someone was«, and to be taught

for the good by his example, it strikes the eye that some persons figure in this Life that do not really matter, in fact obscure the picture of Artaxerxes. There

is also, proportionally, more history, more context, in this Life than in many others. In fact, the story is rather unbalanced, putting much emphasis on Cun-

axa and Cyrus the Younger. Third, Artaxerxes’ background remains largely untold. Many of the Lives show a distinct pattern: birth, parents, upbringing, education, career, etc. In this Life the king's background is only cursory treated, 42

Similarities being that also Nero was a ruler who had to deal with a rather dominant mother,

finished a potentially dangerous contender (sc. Claudius’ son Brittanicus), enjoyed a prosperous start of his reign, and kept support of the common people for the major part of his rule (or, indeed, even his whole rule). Marked difference is, e.g., the treatment of Greece. Where Artaxerxes, at least in Plutarch's view (v. infra) was hostile to Greece, Nero formally Jliberated« Greece, much to Plutarch's delight (v. De sera numinis 567F-568A).

IOO

2

The main transmitters

if at all. It lacks the theatrical (or should one say philosophical and psychological) strength— showing

the inevitable development of an individual, caught

within his personal context of nature, nurture, and circumstances— which so

often characterizes Plutarch's Lives and is one of its charms. On the other hand this Life shows many familiar Plutarchean features. Of the two main characters, Artaxerxes balances between (sometimes extravagant) largesse and kindness (εὔχαρις) on the one hand and envy, jealousy (φθόνος) on the other. Finally he falls out with his nobles and becomes a tyrannical king (XXVL3 sqq.). His mother, Queen Parysatis, hovers between love of honour (φιλοτιμία), especially for her second son, Cyrus the Younger, and hatred (μῖσος) towards both her enemies and her son's (which frequently coincide). At times it appears that regards for the well-being of the realm (τὸ τῆς πατρίδος συμφέρον: cf. Plu. Alc. XXXI.6) hardly seem to play any part in their behaviour: the only prudence observed is to remain sufficiently powerful.) Another regular feature of Plutarch's style, his neglect (or rather, the subservience) of chronology in the narrative is also evident in this narrative (e.g. in the matter

of Tissaphernes' execution). | All of these elements figure both in other Lives and in several of the Moralia. Moreover, Plutarch shows himself also in the Artaxerxes (as might be expected) a purist in religious and moral matters. This becomes especially obvious when he discusses Artaxerxes’ love for his daughter (and his marriage with her). The dissatisfaction almost drips from Plutarch's pen when he states: Πέρσαις δὲ νόμον αὐτὸν ὑπὸ toD θεοῦ ... ἀποδεδειγμένον (»regarding himself as appoin-

ted by the god to be a law for the Persians«: XXIII.3). He fiercely condemns the incest, showing himself expressis verbis indignant that the Persian king neglects Greek feelings and customs and law. It may be clear that I cannot agree with Sirinelli (2000, 260) when he states with regard to the Artaxerxes that:

»... l'auteur n'y manifeste aucun souci moralisateur«. Regularly, too, Plutarch the staunch Hellenist shows himself. The Peace of Antalcidas (the arrangement known as the»King's peacec of 387-6), e.g., arouses Hellenist patriotic feelings: εἰ δεῖ τὴν τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὕβριν xoà προδοσίαν εἰρήνην καλεῖν (sif the mockery and betrayal of Greece must be called a peace«: XXI.5). Again in XXIII.1 Plutarch speaks about ... πάντων ὧν ἐλύπει (»... all the evils he [= Artaxerxes,

JPS] wrought the Greeks«). Some have wondered about the position of this Life within Plutarch’s works.** Apparently Plutarch had prepared (one might say: as usual) well. He used at least four sources: Ctesias, Xenophon the Athenian, Dinon of Colophon, and Heraclides of Cume, all writers of the 4th century. Both Ctesias and 43

Parysatis not wholly succeeded in this objective. She was, temporarily, banished to Babylon,

44

Apart from Binder (cf. note 45), most recently Sirinelli 2000, 219, 260.

though after a while again admitted to the court: XIX.6; XXIIL1.

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

iol

Dinon are occasionally criticized by Plutarch. His remarks regarding Dinon, I think, are not relevant here. A clear statement against Ctesias is to be found in 1.2: εἰ καὶ τἄλλα μύθων ἀπιθάνων καὶ παραφόρων ἐμβέβληκεν eis và βιβλία

παντοδαπὴν πυλαίαν (though he introduced in his works an immense collection of incredible and extravagant stories«; cf.

also V1.9).

Even so, Plutarch

apparently relied on data provided by Ctesias for this Life. He professed to do so since he thought Ctesias the more reliable source because of the latter's direct knowledge of the court and its affairs: παρ᾽ ᾧ διέτριβε θεραπεύων αὐτὸν xoà γυναῖκα xol μητέρα καὶ παῖδας (»at whose court he lived as physician to him [i.e. the king, JPS] as well as his wife and mother and children«: 1.2).

This judgement explicitly does not mean that he admired Ctesias’ way of writing, nor that everything he attributed to Ctesias was, in fact, correctly done so. We already pointed out some critical remarks (cf. , e.g., also XIII.3—4, accusing

Ctesias of falsehood and extreme ambition). Noteworthy is his remark regarding Ctesias’ story of the death of Cyrus the Younger: τοιοῦτος μὲν ὁ Κτησίου λόγος, ᾧ καθάπερ ἀμβλεῖ ξιφιδίῳ μόλις ἀναιρῶν τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἀνήρηκεν (»such is the story of Ctesias, in which as with a blunt sword he kills the man,

though he kills him only just«). The fact that Plutarch wrote this Life of Artaxerxes has been explained by

pointing out that Plutarch needed background information of life at the Persian court for his Lives of Lysander, Alcibiades, and especially Alexander (cf. Wilamowitz 1995, 68). Possibly, or even probably, he did. But why then focus on Artaxerxes? In fact Artaxerxes was, in comparison with other Persian kings, one of the less likely candidates for a Life as example for the ins and outs

of Persian court-life and the organization of the Persian Empire, at least much less so than, e.g., King Darius. In a personal communication Carsten Binder suggested to me that, to him, this Life looks like a portrait of manners and morals at the Persian court, at a time when Persia had effectively a major influence

in Greek politics (sc. the »King’s Peace). Why Plutarch wrote it is hidden in the dark, but it might, perhaps be useful to have a look at the Roman »Ostpolitik« in the times of Plutarch.

Attractive as the idea looks, we will never know for

sure. Though it remains speculative, the reason may have been as simple as the fact that Plutarch had access to a sufficient number of sources for this king. It is possible that the Life of Artaxerxes may have been among the first, per-

haps even the first, experiments of Plutarch to write a kind of biography to set 45

The extent in which Plutarch relied on Ctesias might be open to discussion: I increasingly tend to believe Binder's view that Plutarch may have seen Ctesias as a useful source, whom

he used, however, discriminately— simultaneously criticizing him, as the example of Plu. Art. XVIII demonstrates: cf. also C. Binder, »Plutarch und Ktesias. Beobachtungen zu den

Quellen der Artaxerxes-Vita«, Proceedings Kiel, in preparation—he nevertheless ultimately mistrusted his intentions. C£. also Binder 2008, passim.

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2 The main transmitters

moral examples. A barbarian may have been a useful guinea-pig for such an experiment. I believe there may be two or three stylistic features to support this view. The first is that the Life of Artaxerxes lacks a solid framework which many of the Lives certainly have. The second is the number of unnecessary characters within this Life. The strength of many other Lives is the reduction of the number of characters to the bare minimum needed to deploy the story. The third aspect appears to be a certain uneasiness in the composition of this Life. Common to most, if not all, Lives is the τροπή, the decisive change in life and

behaviour ofthe subject. Generally this is described as a gradual process, during which the circumstances afflict a person's φύσις (»nature«) or ἦθος (»custom«), or both. In the Artaxerxes the τροπή is prefigured from the very first, though the king's behaviour gave at that time no reason to do such a thing. The hindsight, more or less concealed in many or most of the other Lives, is already present

in an early stage of this Life. Finally there is the unbalance in the composition,

already pointed out. Of course, if Binder's suggestion is correct, many if not all of these arguments would lose (much of) their value. Regarding the Life of Artaxerxes we must conclude that it is very much a Plutarchean work, both in concept, views, and way of writing.

To what ex-

tent personal views of Ctesias, Dinon, Heraclides, and Xenophon have played their parts during the composition is hard to assess. What is important in the context of this study is that Plutarch appears to consider Ctesias as a relatively reliable witness regarding Artaxerxes.

Moreover, Ctesias tells a story

that is—according to Plutarch—essentially confirmed by Dinon (though they may differ on minor points). Last but not least, Plutarch quotes Ctesias several times, be it verbatim or abridged. It makes the Artaxerxes, in spite of all our problems in determining its actual value, one of our main sources for Ctesias' Persica, though only for a limited part of the work.

We should, however, bear

Bosworth's warning in mind: a general view of Plutarch's way of work should discourage a historian. Everything Plutarch does is tributary to his moral and artistic views: it shows in his style, the selection of his material, and the treat-

ment (or even total negligence) of the historical context (Bosworth 1992, 79). 46

E.g. by the use of the word ἐδόκει, IL1. I should, however, stress that Flaceliére/Chambry

believe that Plutarch gives a relatively positive image of Artaxerxes (after all, he is Persian and opposes the Greeks). However, in the light of Plutarch's final remark: δόξας δὲ πρᾷος εἶναι xol φιλυπήκοος οὐχ ἥκιστα διὰ τὸν υἱὸν Ὦχον ὠμότητι καὶ μιαιφονίᾳ πάντας ὑπερβαλόμενον (» Artaxerxes] having the reputation of being gentle and fond of his subjects, though this was mainly caused by his son Ochus who surpassed all in cruelty and bloodguiltiness«), I think their view is too positive. In a personal communication Binder argues that

there is essentially no τροπή at all in Plutarch's Life of Artoxerxes: the word ἐδόκει in IL1 refers, in his opinion, to the story related in IV.3—4 and that Plutarch's image of Artaxerxes’ character is consistent(ly negative) throughout the work. I am not yet completely convinced that Binder is right on this point, but his view is tempting.

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Plutarch of Chaeronea

103

»And for the historian working with Plutarch there is a stark message. Heaven help you if your evidence is the Lives and the Lives alone!« (Bosworth 1992, 80). Summary Reviewing Plutarch of Chaeronea we may, I think, conclude that:

* he probably drew upon several sources for a work (and certainly for the Artaxerxes), but may sometimes have mixed this information with ex-

tracts from various writers (without explicitly mentioning this); * he may therefore not be regarded as a sufficiently accurate excerpter; * he sometimes

appears to freely invent asides (though this remains un-

proven for the Artaxerxes);

* he was responsible for the overall shape and main themes of the various Lives;

* he maintained generally some kind of cohesion throughout his work,

based upon a coherent ethical and philosophical conception. This list of features is, remarkably enough, almost identical with what we con-

cluded about Diodorus and Nicholas. Therefore we ought to be careful in using Plutarch's Life of Artaxerxes as a source for Ctesias’ Persica, even where he explicitly quotes or abridges Ctesias. Plutarch's work may generally have reflected the main line of events of the part of the Persica dealing with Artaxerxes, not

necessarily its actual contents. Like Diodorus and Nicholas, Plutarch probably picked his selection from the Persica according to his own goals and needs, his goal was not to give a trustworthy picture either of the Persian king or the Per-

sica. 2.3.2

Manuscripts and editions of Plutarch's works, notably the Artaxerxes"

How much of Plutarch's work had remained at the beginning of the mediaeval

period is evident from the »catalogue of Lamprias«. It shows us that there existed at that time much that disappeared in the Dark Ages and that there was nothing like the opera omnia of Plutarch, transmitted as a whole. Between Agathias (late VIth century) and Photius (mid IXth century) many works of Plutarch

got lost. Photius reviewed in his Bibliotheca a manuscript containing 22 Lives 47

This part is essentially based upon Ziegler 1964, 312—319 and Russell 1973, 147—151.

104

2 The main transmitters

(i.a. including the Artaxerxes, which is dealt with extremely briefly in just three lines by Photius), considering—as is usual—Agis-Cleomenes and the Gracchi

as two Lives (Phot. Bibl. [245], 393b7—400b6; regarding Plutarch as a person, Photius only remarks that he lived in the days of Nero). Its pendant with the remainder of the Lives, of which we have an example in the codex Seittenstetten-

sis (from the Benedictine monastery of Seitenstetten near Waidhofen, Lower

Austria), was, apparently, not seen by Photius (though Henry remarks, Photius,VI, 194, note 2, that Photius had read more of Plutarch than he described

in this codex).

Apart from a collection of the Lives in two volumes there also existed one in three volumes. An example of this we find in the codices Laurentianus conv. soppr. 206 and Laurentianus 69—6, the latter containing the Artaxerxes. In the three volume editions of the Parallel Lives, the Artaxerxes is generally included in the third book. That book, if complete, starts with the Lives of Demetrius and Antonius, followed by those of Pyrrhus and Marius; Aratus; Artaxerxes; Agis— Cleomenes and the Gracchi; Lycurgus and Numa; Lysander and Sulla;

and, finally, Agesilaus and Pompey (cf. K. Ziegler [ed.], Plutarchus, Vitae Parallelae, vol. 1, fasc. 1, Leipzig 1957, p. v).

The most important bridge between Plutarch and our time has been the Byzantine monk Maximus Planudes (c. 1255—c. 1305). He aimed at an vedition< of all of Plutarch's works. After an initial compilation of 69 Moralia, Planudes planned a text of all that survived from Moralia and Lives (including the Artaxerxes), resulting in a codex, finished in 1296, presently known as the Parisinus 1671. After finding some new manuscripts containing several other books (i.a. the De Herodoti Malignitate), he incorporated these also in another copy, now

known as codex Parisinus 1672. That codex was probably finished shortly before

his (sc. Planudes’) death. This codex, in Ziegler's words »dieser herrliche Pergamentkodex größten Formates« (Ziegler 1964, 315), contained all of Plutarch’s works known until 1773. In the editions this manuscript is indicated by the letter B. It is kept at the Bibliothéque Nationale in Paris. There are, apart from a number of less important manuscripts, still four other

main manuscripts for the constitution of the text of the Artaxerxes, in the editions indicated by the letters L, G, P, and C. L is the codex Laurentianus 69—6,

from the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana of Florence, written on parchment and most probably finished in June 997. Though this date is incidentally contested, the manuscript dates no later than the end of the Xth or early XIth century. It is perhaps less carefully written than G and has some errors and omissions, corrected by 3 hands (1 old and 2 from the XIVth century). G also is a manuscript 48

Cf. for a more detailed account of his life and works Wilson 1996, 230—241 and DNP, s.v. »Planudes, Maximos«.

2.3

Plutarch of Chaeronea

10S

from Paris, the codex Coislinianus 319 (olim Sangermanensis), a parchinent from the

XIIth century, originally kept at the Abbey of Saint-Germain. It is the favourite manuscript of Flaceliére: »Ce manuscrit, dont le texte, souvent assez voisin

du Laur. 69—6, est généralement excellent«. C is another manuscript from the Bibliothóque Nationale at Paris, the codex Parisinus gr.

1673, also on parchment

and dating from the XIVth century. It was copied with liberties, sometimes adding to the text a personal commentary or interpretation.? Regarding the attribution of the siglum P, there is some confusion.

It is the siglum occasion-

ally given to codex Vaticanus Palatinus gr. 2 from the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, a manuscript on parchment from the XIVth to XVth centuries and containing all three books of Plutarch's Lives? Simultaneously another manuscript mentioned in the context of the Artaxerxes, codex Vaticanus Palatinus gr. 283, is mentioned as well under siglum P in R. Flaceliére/E. Chambry, Plutarque, Vies, T. XV, Paris 1979, i. In the list of manuscripts in Plutarque, T. I, this manuscript

totally lacks, but it is summarily discussed in Ziegler's Die Überlieferungsgeschichte der vergleichenden Lebensbeschreibungen Plutarchs (Leipzig 1907, 9, 115-8), a work

discussing virtually all known manuscripts containing (part of) Plutarch’s Lives. Vaticanus palatinusgr. 283 is, nevertheless, a relevant text, if only for its date. It is a parchment dating to the XIIth century (cf. Pitra/Stevenson, op. cit. , s.v.; in

the Teubner editio maior of Plutarch’s Vitae parallelae, vol. IIT.1 (Leipzig 1971), viii, Ziegler dates this manuscript to the XIth/XIIth centuries), and represents

a relatively independent tradition. It contains part of Book III (down to the Gracchi) as well as 7 opuscula of Plutarch's Moralia. Another copy of the Life of Artaxerxes in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Palatina) may be found in codex 167, a parchment dating to the XVth century and containing all Lives collected

in Book III. For this manuscript the siglum »P« (of Palatina) would be appropri-

ate as well (cf. Ziegler, Überlieferungsgeschichte, 196—202). Though also No. 286 contains some of the Lives, the Life of Artaxerxes is absent in that particular codex. 49

For a convenient review of the manuscript tradition v. Flaceliere/Chambry/Juncax, op. cit.,

so

xxxii-liv. Cf. R. Flaceliere/E. ms.

$1

: Chambry/M. Juneaux,

Plutarque, Vies, T. 1, Paris 1957, xli. C£. for this

also Giambattista cardinal Pitra/Henry Stevenson Sr. , Codices manuscripti Palatini Graeci

Bibliothecae Descripti, Roma 1885. Stevenson dates the manuscript to the XVth century. With thanks to Dottore Massimo Ceresa, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, for pointing me at this book. It might be considered to name in future editions of Plutarch’s Life of Artaxerxes Palatinus 2 »P*, Palatinus 283 »Pb«, and Palatinus 167 »Pc« to differentiate between the manuscripts more

clearly than is customary at present.

τοῦ

2

The main

transmitters

With che growing threat to Constantinople between 1204 and the mid-X Vth century many scholars sought and found their way to the West, namely Italy,” and took with them their texts of, and love for, Plutarch. Among those scholars

we find Theodorus Metochites (c. 1270-c. 1332), Geörgios Gemistos Plethon (c. 1355—1452), and the Cardinal Bessarion (c. 1395—1472),? who donated his Plutarch-manuscripts to the Biblioteca Marciana at Venice. The editio princeps of Plutarch's Lives appeared at Florence (Florentiae), publishing-house of Philip-

pus Iunta (Filippo Giunta) in 1517, and had been edited by Eufrosinus Boninus.* It was based upon the relatively inferior manuscripts kept at Florence (in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana). A better edition appeared already two years later at Venice, in 1519, published by Aldus Minutius (Aldo Manuzio). This was edited by Franciscus Asulanus (?-1546), who worked from the better manuscripts of the Marciana library. This edition established the still extant order of the Lives. Extremely important, and the basis for all subsequent editions, was the 1572

edition by Henri Estienne, reprinted at Frankfurt a. M. (Andreas Wechel heirs) in 1599, 1620, and 1624, completed with the Latin translations of Plutarch by

Cruserius and Xylander (v. infra). In Italy and subsequently in the rest of Europa especially the Lives had become increasingly popular. The result was a number of translations (some more accurate than others), first in Latin, next in Italian »di greco in latino & di latino in volgare«, published in 2 volumes as early as 152555 (Venice [Vinegia], Nicolao

di Aristotile detto Zoppino).

The first volume, consisting of 26 lives, trans-

lated by Batista Alessandro Giaconello (also rendered as Jaconello) de Riete, is

the first translation in any modern language of (part of) the Lives. Together with the second and last part, translated by Giulio Bordone di Padova, it forms

the first complete edition in Italian. Later the Lives were also translated into French (by Jacques Amyot [1513—1593] at Paris [Michel de Varcosan] in 1559, a very influential translation), English (Sir Thomas North [1535?-1602?]

in

1579— made from Amyot’s text)—, and other languages. The most influential translations into Latin were those of two scholars, working independently: the German Wilhelm Holtzmann (Guilielmus Xylander, 1532-1576) and the Cf. K. Setton, The Byzantine background to the Italian Renaissance, PAPhS 1-76.

53

54

100 (1956)

C£. Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 149-52 and 277-8 for a further description and literature regarding this churchman who proved himself so cardinal for the transmission of Greek literature to our times, On Eufrosinus (Euphrosynus) Boninus, also known as Frosino Bonini, no further dates are known to me, except that he edited also a number of other works for the house of Iunta

between 1515 and 1517, including an edition of Hesiod and one of Apollonius. 55 A translation in Italian by Giaconello is already mentioned for 1482, in Aquila at Adam de

Rotwil (= Adam d'Ambergau, a.k.a. Adam Alemannus), but this translation was not complete, lacking the second part.

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

I07

Dutch Humanist Hermann Cruser (Cruserius, c. 1510-1575). Xylander's Lives appeared in 1561, the Moralia in 1570,°° Cruserius' in 1564 (dedicated to King

Philip II of Spain:

the eighty years war between the Northern Netherlands

and Spain started in 1568, though there were already tensions tangible in 1564) resp. 1573.

The most noteworthy developments in the transmission of Plutarch’s legacy in the XVIIth century were the edition at Paris in 1624 (ed, Rualdus) and the preserved emendations by Claude Gaspard Bachet de Meziriac (1581—1638),

a French mathematician, in his copy of the Estienne edition. More important were the edition in five volumes of the Lives by Bryanus (Augustine Bryan) and Solanus (Moyse Du Soul), London (Tonson and Watts) 1723—1729, and the complete edition of all of Plutarch’s works in twelve volumes by Johann Jacob Reiske (1716-1774), Leipzig (Lipsiae) 1774—1782. Remarkable is that, textu-

ally, Carl Sintenis’ editio minor (Leipzig [Teubner] 1852—1855) is better than his editio maior (Leipzig [Koehler] 1839—1846). It has long been the most generally accepted text of the Lives. The text edited by Immanuel Bekker (1785-1871),

and published at Leipzig [Tauchnitz] between 1855 and 1857, is quite similar to Sintenis' editio minor, but has a convenient division of the chapters into sections. As I indicated supra, Ch. 1.1.3, I have chosen to use, next to Lenfant 2004,

the Budé edition of the Life of Artaxerxes as the basis to select the passages of this work which may be attributed to Ctesias. Another good and updated edition, which I will also use, is the Teubner edition by Claes Lindskog (1870-1954) and Konrat Julius Fürchtegott Ziegler (1884—1974), Leipzig 1914—1939, 2nd edition

by Ziegler 1957 sqq., 3rd 1960—1998, revised by Hans Gärtner. A convenient cdition is in the Loeb series, edited by Bernadotte Perrin, though the apparatus

criticus—insofar we can speak of one—is of much less value than that of either the Budé or the Teubner editions. The division in sections of the paragraphs,

moreover, shows a manifest difference with the generally accepted one, making it less useful for references. 2.4 2.4.1 A.

Photius of Constantinople Life and works of Photius

Introduction

And so we arrive at our main source for the Persica of Ctesias, notably for the books VII-XXIII. Before we concentrate on Photius, however, I think it useful

to give a picture of (a part of) the history of the Byzantine Empire in the cen56

The order and pagination of the Moralia as we still use them today are taken from the Frankfurt edition of 1599 (Greek and Xylander's Latin).

108

2

The main transmitters

tury preceding Photius, i.e. the period of the iconoclastic controversy. At the same time we also, in a very cursorily way, will touch upon relations between

the Byzantine Empire and its neighbours, especially the Arabs. The major disadvantage of this approach is that it makes this part of the chapter full of names and dates and perhaps seemingly unnecessary complicated. Exaggerated as this

excursion may, therefore, seem at first sight, it appears to me, nevertheless, essential.

In the first place because I am afraid that most ancient historians, ar-

chaeologists, and classical philologists are not very familiar with this period. In the second place I think it is important because this background information enables us to understand a number of the problems which arise not only when we deal with life and works of Photius himself but, more essential within the context of this book, also with the transmission of classical works in general. Finally, the extended introduction may also serve as an attempt to explain why

Ctesias’ work, which is fundamentally not exceptional by any standard, has survived so many centuries. In order to make both the overall picture and Photius' position as transparent as possible, this section will be divided in the following subsections and segments: * the iconoclastic controversy within the framework of the history of the Byzantine Empire; * Photius and his career; * education and libraries at Constantinople; * Photius’ Lexicon; * Photius' Bibliotheca:

— introduction, — date of the sembassy«, — the theory of the »Baghdad-library«, — alternative dates of composition, — Photius’ method of work, * conclusion.

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

109

B. The iconoclastic controversy?

In 717, on 25 March, Leo III, nicknamed the Isaurian, entered the city of Con-

stantinople to be crowned as the new emperor of the Byzantine Empire.

In

little over a dozen years he had concluded an ascent from being a simple peasant, originally Syrian but later resettled near Mesembria (Nessebar in present-

day Bulgaria, on the Black Sea coast), to occupying the highest office thanks to his cunning, ambition, and wit. Already in September of that very year he had

to defend his city against a siege by a combined Arab army and fleet. This siege lasted until the summer of the following year and ended with the almost total annihilation of the Arab forces.

Probably partly due to his Syrian background Leo may, to some extent, have been influenced by Islamic and Judaic beliefs and practices, especially those ab-

horring representation of the human form, secular let alone religious. Iconoclasm, as this movement became known, did not come as a complete surprise

in the Byzantine Empire. Already previously there had been the movement of monophysitism (finding its origins in the fifth or even as early as the third century AD)——-only accepting the divine nature of Christ (which, by definition, cannot be represented visually)—from which iconoclasm may have originated directly. There are, moreover, also other causes to contemplate.

Orthodox clergy had become increasingly powerful and iconoclasm might also be explained as an effort of the state to enforce its control over faith. Monasteries all over the country prospered and attracted many,

to the det-

riment of the economy, notably the production of food: a struggle against monasticism might be to the benefit of the Empire. Aristocratic and orthodox families— generally of Western (iconodule**) origin —had become increasingly richer and more influential (also in the East). The iconoclast movement may

have served as a means to curtail this development.

All of these causes (plus,

probably, some more as well) alone or in combination may have contributed to

the storm that followed.

Unfortunately there exist no narrative sources emanating from the persecutors (Alexander 1977, 253, 255) to explain the grounds for their persecution of iconodules (and Moechians, v. infra, p. 113—4) during the VIIIth and IXth centuries (as there are for the persecution of the Paulicians??). We do, however, 57

This segment is, unless indicated otherwise, essentially based upon the following literature: The Cambridge Medieval History, vol. IV, The Byzantine Empire, 717-1453, New edition, ed. by

J. M. Hussey, 2 vols., Cambridge 1966-7; Jenkins 1966; Norwich 1990 and 1993; Ostrogor58

59

sky 1963. All dates in this segment are AD. Irather prefer this term than the, more common, iconophile, since it emphasizes the common practice within this group, sc. the worship of images, more clearly.

Originally from Armenia, they were to be considered as dualists and combined a Manichean

beliefin two opposed principles, of good and evil, with a beliefin Pauline Christianity; i.a.

IIO

2

The main transmitters

have reports written by the iconodules about their persecution by the icono-

clasts, e.g., in the Nuthesia and the Life of St. Nicetas of Medicium (esp. ch. 27). From these reports appears that the motives of the iconoclasts were predominantly political in nature. They accused the iconodules of setting themselves against imperial power. According to Alexander (1977, 258) there are reasonsto

credit this picture, concluding: »It does seem, then, that the Iconoclasts based

their measures of persecution principally on the authority of the emperor to decide in matters of doctrine and to implement his decision by coercive measures« As (St) Theodore of Studium (Theodorus Studita: 759—826), Letters 2.16, cols. 1165D-1168B, describing the persecutions under Leo V (i.a. in-

cluding destruction of altars and sacred vessels and burning of vestments and manuscripts) concludes many years later: »T here is one law only—the will of Caesar«. In 726 Leo made his first move. He selected the huge golden icon of Christ,

mounted above the great bronze doors of the principal gateway to the imperial palace, to be destroyed. Inhabitants of Constantinople rose in revolt, but this revolt was repressed. Negotiations with Church leaders to voluntary removalof icons failed. Then, in 730, he deposed the iconodule Patriarch Germanus and,

having appointed in his place one Anastasius, issued the imperial edict against the images. In the East this was considered as a license to loot the monasteries and nunneries. In the West the Pope, Gregory II, issued a public condemnation of icono-

clasm and suggested to Leo to leave matters of belief to those qualified to do so. An imperial attempt to arrest the Pope failed. Soon after this Gregory died and was succeeded by Gregory III. This Pope summoned a Synod in November 731, which excommunicated everyone who, directly or indirectly, damaged sacred

objects. The hitherto largely concealed animosity between West and East flared up and, with brief intervals, continued another three centuries until the final schism. The last years of Leo's reign were largely uneventful. They included a

number of Arab raids in Anatolia and further implementation of the iconoclast decree, including the persecution of iconodules. Leo III died in 741 and left a divided Empire. He was succeeded by Constantine

V Copronymus (an epithet coined later by

the very iconodule Greek church), who had been Leo's co-emperor since 720

(when he was two years old) and, as such, closely associated with his iconoclast policy. His accession was, however, not undisputed. In 742 he was challenged by his brother-in-law Artabasdus, who proclaimed himself Emperor. Almost

the first act of Artabasdus was the restoration of the images. they maintained that the world had not been created by God but by the devil and execrated icons and paintings: cf., e.g., Jenkins 1966, 158.

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

III

Constantine V may have been momentarily beaten, he was not defeated. Having fled to Amorium (present-day Emirdag, some 215 km SW of Ankara) in Anatolia, the second city of the realm, he raised an army of Anatolians, iconoclast to a man, and advanced to Constantinople. He met Artabasdus’

army at Sardis (743) and annihilated it. Constantinople surrendered and Constantine resumed the reign. Artabasdus and his sons were blinded, their most fervent supporters executed. The patriarch, Anastasius (who had crowned Artabasdus), was publicly humiliated and then reinstated: a discredited Patriarch

was all Constantine needed. The bonds between the iconodules and Artabasdus led to an intensification of the persecutions. It may, however, go too far to

suggest that Constantine's persecutions were only politically motivated. His theological treatises—he wrote thirteen of these — show that he was a genuine Monophysite. To strengthen his case he eventually summoned an »Ecumenical Council, though made up only by representatives of the Church of Constantinople. It convened in 754, shortly after the death of Patriarch Anastasius.° The Council decided that Christ's nature was aperigraptos—not circumscribable—and consequently not representable. Icons were forbidden and ordered to be destroyed, iconodules were excommunicated.

Also the attacks on

monasteries were resumed with energy. In this period Michael Lachanodracon, the strategos of the Thracesian theme

(in W Asia Minor), is reported to have committed (imitating his master, the

Emperor: cf. Theophanes, 445, 3—4) various crimes against iconodules in general and monks and monasteries in particular. To the latter category belongs the burning of complete monasteria libraries, as is reported by one Cedrenus,

based on a report by Theophanes (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae, vol. II, 16, 5—7; cf. Gero 1977, 154—5 and n. 16). For his behaviour he was greatly praised, by letter, by the Emperor. The Emperor, too, had, as also Nicephorus states (Migne, PG

100, 837A), meanwhile earned himself a solid reputation as

burner of relics and (holy) books (v. Gero 1977, 154). Constantine V's battle against the icons overshadows his successes against the Arabs (where, about 750, the Umayyad-dynasty at Damascus came to an end

and the Caliphate passed to the ‘Abbasids of Baghdad: they became the new and fierce adversaries of the Byzantine Empire) and the Bulgars. During a campaign against the latter adversaries in 775, Constantine V fell ill and died. 60 61

Fragments of these Peuseis (»Inquiriese) have survived: cf. Gero 1977, 37—52. Bishop Theodosius of Ephese chaired the Council (also known as the Council of Hieria or the Headless Synod), in which 338 bishops but no single patriarch partook, since it took some time to find a suitable successor for the patriarchate. Eventually he was found in the person of one Constantine. During this Council St. John Damascene and St. Germanus of

Constantinople were anathematized.

II2

2

The main transmitters

He was succeeded by Leo IV, a sickly ruler who was married to a lady by the name of Irene. In his lucid introduction to the history of the Byzantine Empire, Lord Norwich paints a plastic, though hardly flattering, portrait of her: »Scheming and duplicitous, consumed by a devouring ambition and an insatiable lust for power, she was to bring dissension and disaster to the Empire for

nearly a quarter of a century, and to leave a still darker stain on her reputation by one of the foulest murders that even Byzantine history has to record« (Norwich 1990, 366). Al-‘Abbis ibn-‘Abd-al Murtalib, uncle of the Prophet Muhammad

(d. 743) J

Ä

—

Abü-1-'Abbas as-saffäh

Abü-Ga'far al-Mansür

(754—775)

Muhammad al-Mahdi

(775—785)

|

I

Muhammad al-Amin

(809—813)

]

Muhammad al-Hädi

Härün ar-Rasid

(785-786)

(786-809) |

— 'Abd-Allah al Ma'mün

(813—833)

T

Muhammad

A

Abü-Ga'far al-Wathiq

(842—847)

]

Abü-Ishàq al-Mu'tasim

(833—842) .

|

|

‘Ala~Allah Ga'far al-Mutawakkil

(847—861)

Figure 7: ‘Abbasid rulers between 750 and 861

Whatever she was, she also was an iconodule. Initially she used her influence on the Emperor to moderate iconoclast measures. Nevertheless he appointed an iconoclast churchman, Paul IV, as Patriarch shortly before his death. When Leo IV died, in 780 (leaving a son of ten years, Constantine VI), Irene declared herself Regent and took effective control of the reign. Being iconodule, this was not an easy task, since all vital positions were in the hands of iconoclasts.

The first task she faced was to find qualified replacements for the key positions of the Empire, especially within the army.

The purge of the army was paid for at great cost. An invasion of the 'Abbäsid Caliph’s son, the famous Härün ar-Rafid (see fig. 7, p. 112), was bought

off expensively for a number of years. More or less secure on this side, Irene

now turned to the church. In 784 Patriarch Paul was gently forced to resign and replaced by Tarasius,

though the latter was a layman

(cf.

Efthymiadis

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

IIj

1998, 14-5, 78—91, 173—8). Within a week or so, however, he received the ne-

cessary ordinations and immediately proved himself to be a pragmatist by seeking restoration of the relations with Rome. To this end a Council (the Seventh

Ecumenical Council) with delegates from all Patriarchates, including that of Rome, convened at Constantinople in 786 (Efthymiadis 1998, passim). Though initially disturbed by iconoclast soldiers, the Council reconvened at Nicaea in 787. The Council decided to return to the veneration (proskynesis), not adoration (latreia), of images (a distinction already defined by St. John Damascene

before the Council of 754). It also ordered that all iconoclast literature must be immediately surrendered to the Patriarchal office in Constantinople. The decisions were signed by Constantine VI, then seventeen years old but still (effectively) subordinate to his mother. In the total of almost thirty years between the Seventh Ecumenical Council of Nicaea and the new outbreak of Iconoclasm (815), the sources make no mention of any persecution of iconoclasts (Alexander

1977, 244).

When Irene tried to formalize her superiority over her son, the formal heir to the throne, in 790, Constantine became the hope for the opposition against Irene. She arrested him, but he was liberated hastily and joined his supporters

in Anatolia. Returning with their help, he took command of the Empire. Irene was put under house-arrest in her palace outside Constantinople. The unrest in Constantinople provoked ambition with the Empire's neighbours. Troops of Härün ar-Rasid invaded the eastern provinces in 791: as before, they were bought off. A campaign against the Bulgars ended in Constantine’s flight at the battle of Marcellae in 792. In the same year he allowed his mother to return to Constantinople. The next major problem arose in 795, when Constantine decided to divorce his wife (who was sent to a nunnery) and to remarry. Patriarch Tarasius condoned (or was blackmailed to condone®) the divorce and gave the Emperor permission to remarry (though he did not bless the marriage himself: see Efthymiadis 1998, 117—134, 188—193). This permission led to a clash between Tarasius and a group of monks who stated that the Patriarch sanctioned adultery. This clash, known as the »Moechian controversy: (after potyeta »moicheia:, adultery), caused a split in the icon-

odule community. The more or less fanatical monks (the fundamentalists, as seems the appropriate word nowadays) on the one hand opposed the moderates (the liberals?) on the other, where unity was needed. In the meantime also

the end of what support was left for Constantine was reached. Irene took her chances and struck in 797. Constantine was captured and (almost certainly on 62

Reportedly the Emperor threatened the Patriarch to revoke the decisions of the Council of Nicaea and to return to iconoclasm. The Patriarch was hooked.

II4

2 The main transmitters

his mother's orders) his eyes were put out, but so cruelly that he died from his

wounds. Irene had become sole ruler. Irene tried to buy the support of her subjects, and especially the monasteries,

a policy which the coffers could by no means afford. Many were troubled over her behaviour, conspiracies rose up.

A coup seemed likely, probably even to

Irene. To avert the threat she reacted, in 802, positively to the overtures made

by Charlemagne, crowned in 800 by Pope Leo III as the Emperor of the Roman Empire—a title Byzantine Emperors had hitherto considered to be legally theirs. In October of that year a group of high-ranking officials took over and declared Irene deposed. She was arrested and sent in exile: she died a year later. The leader of the palace-revolt, the logothetés (»auditor«) of the treasury, as-

cended the throne as Nicephorus I. One of his main tasks was to restore the financial situation of the Empire. Irene's measures were countermanded, new levies increased. No exceptions were made, certainly not for monasteries. He

aroused by his measures the hatred of this influential group, but the economy soon started to revive. Politically and militarily the situation was worse: a num-

ber of Arab invasions had to be dealt with, but luckily for Nicephorus, Harün ar-Rasid died in 809. The other threat, even more vital, was the Bulgar Khan, by the name of Krum.

Fighting Krum's army, Nicephorus I was killed in ac-

tion in 811. His son, Stauracius, was transferred to Constantinople, mortally wounded. Nevertheless he was, for protocol's sake (and to gain some time), proclaimed Emperor. He died shortly afterwards. The only male relative of Nicephorus left was the husband of Nicephorus daughter Procopia, Michael Rhangabe—extremely disliked by Stauracius. Nevertheless, he ascended the throne as Michael I on October 2, 811, with full support of the Patriarch, another Nicephorus (the successor of Tarasius, who

had died in 806). Like Tarasius, this Nicephorus was originally a layman. That he had been elected Patriarch and had received his ordinations in a week's time caused, again, enormous dissent with the monks, especially those of the Stu-

dium led by their Abbot Theodore, in spite of the fact that Nicephorus was a genuine iconodule. Probably to Nicephorus' surprise Michael] rewarded his support by consulting Theodore on virtually all problems. In return for services rendered Michael spent huge amounts of money on churches and monasteries and completely neglected the safety of the Empire. The Bulgars took amply advantage of this policy and ravaged the Thracian countryside: they pitched their tents under the walls of Constantinople in the summer of 813. By that time Michael had already abdicated. He was succeeded by Leo V the Armenian, one of the commanders of Michael's army. He was a man of humble origins but possessed both a consuming ambition and titanic physical energy. He was, moreover, courageous, intelligent, and resourceful. In any case, he knew how to assess the situation. Over the years the Arab invasions and threats

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

IIS

had induced many people from the East to leave for Constantinople. There they formed an army of malcontents and blamed the iconodule rulers for their misfortune. This sentiment was also present in the regular army and other layers of society. Iconoclasm was, once again, in the air, but this time more instigated by state security than by religious motives. Leo V made his moves with care. A commission, headed by the Armenian

John the Grammarian (not to be confused with the Peripatetic philosopher, a monophysite, who lived at Alexandria), was appointed in 814 to investigate the Scriptures whether they contained evidence to support iconoclasm. They evidently did, much to the Patriarch's discontent. Leo's first target was the Christ

above the main gate of the palace, the same that had been pulled down by Leo III but had later been replaced by Irene. The Patriarch and the Abbot of the Studium, Theodore— bien étonnés de se trouver ensembles —protested but were

silenced. During a»General Synod« which convened in 815, Patriarch Nice-

phorus was deposed——in absentia —and replaced by the iconoclast Theodotus Cassiteras. The Synod also »condemned the unprofitable practice, ..., of mak-

ing and adoring icons, preferring worship in spirit and truth«. Persecution of

iconodules was resumed (cf. Alexander 1977, 245). Though Leo was not a fervent iconoclast, he had to set some examples. An obvious target was Theodore of the Studium, who was (temporarily) thrown

in gaol; some of his supporters were executed. Theology obviously was not, nor ever became, Leo's primary concern. Some, however, thought differently

and considerable destructions followed the Synod's edict. Among Leo's associates was one Michael of Amorium.

In 820, the afternoon before Christmas,

this Michael was, rightly, accused of conspiring against the Emperor. Michael was not executed directly thanks to the plea of the Empress Theodosia. He profited to the maximum from Leo's moment of weakness and made his fellow-

conspirators assemble. They killed Leo in the morning of Christmas Day, liberated Michael, and made Theodotus crown Michael as the new Emperor, Mi-

chael II. Michael II was, after all, a relatively good ruler. He crowned his son, Theo-

philus, co-emperor in 821 and made him marry one Theodora to ensure the continuation of the (new) dynasty (called the Amorian dynasty, named after

Amorium, the place Michael's family came from). In religious respects Michael and Theophilus were counterparts. Michael was basically indifferent, even interrupted the persecution of iconodules, while his son was a relatively fanatic iconoclast. Michael resented, however, the iconodule issue of Papal supremacy in matters of church-dogma. With his own orthodox clergy, apart from

the extremist monks, Michael got on well enough. Some problems arose when Michael's wife died and he remarried, the more so because the lady had been a

nun for quite some years. In 829 Michael died from a regular illness.

IIÓ

2

The main transmitters

While Michael II had been barely literate, Theophilus was an intellectual and, like many or even most educated Byzantines, obsessed with theological

questions. Moreover, he also was a competent military leader. A striking feature of his nature was his admiration for Arab culture and customs. From that point of view his iconoclast preferences need not surprise. Nevertheless he did not persecute systematically and consequently. Generally only public profession of the cult of icons, namely in Constantinople, was prohibited. In private

it could be practised and, in fact, was practised, even in the imperial palace, e.g. by the Empress Theodora herself. Contrary to this tolerant view was the appointment of John the Grammarian, a fervent iconoclast, as Patriarch John VII in 837.

In spite of Theophilus’ pro-Arab feelings it were the Arabs that, after sixteen years of relative peace, threatened his Empire most, almost from the beginning of his sole reign. After an initial success in 830, the Byzantine army was crushingly defeated later that year. The ‘Abbasid Caliph Al-Ma'mün (see fig. 7, 112) refused to sign a peace-treaty, but Theophilus was temporarily saved

by Al-Ma'mün's death in 833 and the problems of his successor (Al-Mu'tasim) to secure his position. The war was resumed in 837. Again Theophilus seemed successful in the beginning. In 838, Al-Mu'tasim (see also fig. 7) left his palace at Samarra’ (some 100 km north of Baghdad: cf. DND, s.v.; also EANE, s.v.) with a huge army and conquered first Ancyra (Ankara), then Amorium, home-town

of the imperial family and second city of the Empire. Forty-two inhabitants of Amorium survived the conquest and following march to Samarra’. Seven years

later they were given the choice between conversion to Islam or death. All opted for the latter and were executed. Luckily for Theophilus, Al-Mu'tasim did not push on after his 838-victory.

Only in 842 he despatched a fleet against

Constantinople: it fell victim to a storm. Moreover, shortly after the fleet had left its home-port, Al-Mu'tasim died, early January 842. Still that very month

also Theophilus died. Shortly after his birth in 840, Michael III was crowned co-emperor with his father, Theophilus. Officially they reigned some two years together before Theophilus passed away. Since Michael obviously was incapable of ruling by himself, his mother Theodora acted as Regent, assisted by Sergius Nicetiates (her uncle), Bardas (her brother), and Theoctistus (the /ogothetés). Though Theoctistus (who gradually became Theodora's main adviser, effectively oust-

ing his two colleagues) himself was—or had been—a staunch iconoclast, he realized that a take-over of the state by iconodules was imminent unless the Empress-regent, herself an iconodule like her two other advisers, acted first. A Council was summoned, due to convene in 843, to confirm the decisions

of Nicaea that in 787 put a preliminary end to iconoclasm. Though Patriarch John the Grammarian heavily protested, he was deposed and finally retired: one

2.4 Photius of Coustantinople

II7

Methodius was elected in his stead. On the first Sunday in Lent, still the Feast of Orthodoxy in the eastern churches, of 843 the imperial family attended a service of thanksgiving in the church of the Hagia Sophia. 2o

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Methodius proved himself a careful and benevolent tactician in his dealings with (former) iconoclasts, contrary to the liking of the extremist iconodules,

notably the monks of the Studium. They even tried to get him deposed, though unsuccessfully: again the iconodules showed themselves not united. Meanwhile Michael III grew up, but was kept in the background by his mother. In 855 Michael III lent his ear to a conspiracy, instigated by Bardas, who could not

bear it to have been outwitted by Theoctistus. Theoctistus was killed, in spite of the Empress-regent’s protests; she herself was for the time being kept under effective housc-arrest in the palace, Michael was proclaimed sole Emperor in March 856. In the meantime Patriarch Methodius had died in 847. The Empress-regent appointed

Ignatius as his successor,

a man

whose

proper worldly

name

had

been Nicetas, son of the deposed Emperor Michael I and, at the occasion of his father's deposition, castrated. Unfortunately the Empress-regent had not consulted the Synod (a procedural error: to consult the Synod was demanded by canonical law). In itself this would not have been a major issue, if it were not for Ignatius’ way of conduct and dogmatism. Different from Methodius

118

2 The main transmitters

»Ignatius was a blinkered bigot who understood neither forgiveness nor com-

promise« (Norwich 1993, 63). Perhaps he only showed a natural human reaction to the traumas suffered during his childhood.

However,

the Patriarch's

outspoken views united many in their detestation of him. These views ultimately provoked such antagonistic feelings in the still unsettled Church that his position had become untenable in 857, the more so since his main supporters, Theoctistus and Theodora, had disappeared. His adversaries sought, and in 857 found, an alternative in the person of Photius. He was a scholar, civil servant, and friend of Bardas: not a combination to the liking of Ignatius. Ignatius

excommunicated Bardas (on a charge of adultery), but was arrested and sent to the monastery he (sc. Ignatius) had founded on the island of Terebinthos. The problem that Photius was a layman was solved in an identical manner as it had been with Tarasius and Nicephorus: within a week he received the necessary ordinations. The problem that Ignatius refused to resign was solved by making Photius Patriarch de facto, until a Council or Synod would depose Ignatius formally. C. His career?

Of Photius' life before his first Patriarchate (858—867) and after his second (877-886) little is known: even the years of his birth** and death are not trans-

mitted. He was born at Constantinople, certainly before 828. In 858 Photius had been ordained priest: canonical law prohibited consecrations of people under 30 and his adversaries would certainly have used it if his ordination was irregular. In fact the whole affair was rather unusual, but not unprecedented: v. supra. His parents were Sergius (= George: he was probably the same as Sergius the Confessor, martyred by the Second Iconoclasm: Efthymiadis 1998, 10) and Irene, quite prosperous and prominent, both devoted iconodules. During

the reign of Emperor Theophilus (815—842) they were anathematized and, in or around 833,55 exiled from the city together with their (at least) five children. The parents of Photius died before exiled iconodules were allowed to return to Constantinople in 842. Of his other relatives Photius mentions Patriarch Tarasius (784-806) as his πατρόθειος, most likely used as his great-uncle, 63

Essentially this part, unless indicated otherwise, is based upon W.G. Brokkaar, De brieven

van Photius aan Nicephorus, Amsterdam (diss.) 1995 and K. Ziegler, »Photios (13), RE XX, Stuttgart 1950.

64 The range for his estimated (or guessed) year of birth goes from 810 to 826. The LAA gives

the first date. The database of the Koninklijke Bibliotheek (Royal Library) at The Hague provides as year of birth c. 815. Brokkaar (1995, 1, note 2) argues for 820 as Photius' year of birth. I find his arguments sufficiently convincing.

6s

Cf.

W. Treadgold, »Photius before his Patriarchate, JEH

53 (2002), pp. 1-17.

www.holytrinityorthodox.com/calender/los/May/13—07htm.

See also

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

119

or even great-uncle of his father (Efthymiadis 1998, 10-1). Only sporadically Photius reveals in his writing something relating to his youth. In his Letters 289, ]. 48 sqq. and 288, 1. 15 sqq., both from the first part of 860, he expresses that he had liked to become a monk, but was prevented from doing so by worldly

sorrows and occupations and service to the Emperor.

As stated, the family was prominent and iconodule (but the latter not constantly: cf. Efthymiadis 1998, 11). The fact that Emperor Theophilus bothered

to exile them on the charge of iconolatry may be sufficient proof of this. Moreover, not only the living were affected. Patriarch Tarasius was also struck

by condamnation by the iconoclasts as a consequence of his decisions against the iconoclasts during the Council of Nicaea of 787.9 The family's position

is also clearly shown by its connections. Even the biographer of Ignatius, Nicetas David (cf. infra p. 122 and note 70), who was extremely hostile towards

Photius, acknowledges that his adversary's family belonged to the most prominent of the Empire. of Theodora,

The brother of Photius’ mother Irene married a sister

consort of the iconoclast Emperor Theophilus from 830.

The

uncle of his father Sergius was, as we have seen, the Patriarch Tarasius (Photius' πατρόθειος). Among Photius' correspondence are letters to his four brothers:

Tarasius, Sergius, Constantine, and Theodore. Photius' brother Sergius was married to the youngest sister of the Empress Theodora, Irene. After their return to Constantinople in 842/3 they all prospered, no doubt at least partly due to the (family)-relations with the Empress. Constantine attained the rank of protospatharius?, Sergius and Tarasius the still higher rank of patricius, and Photius himself became protoasecretis, head of che imperial chancellery. In that

function, which he held when he was appointed Patriarch, he also wore the title πρωτοσπαθάριος (protospatharius, captain of the imperial guard). Finally he became also the protobouleutés (first senator). As has been related in the preceding subsection after the death of Emperor Theophilus (829—842), his widow Theodora had taken the regency for their three-year old son Michael III. One of her first acts was to dispatch the icon-

oclasts and recall the banished iconodules (orthodoxes). Among the favourites of the Empress-regent, who were fighting among each other to achieve decisive influence, was the Empress' brother, Bardas. He dominated the young Emperor and became powerful enough to force his sister, the Empress-regent, to abdicate

and consequently to leave the court and to enter a convent. In her fall she took 66

Wilson (1996, 90) remarks that there is positive evidence in one of Photius’ letters (Letter 2,64, Migne PG 102, 877BC) that Photius and his father and uncle were condemned by the iconoclasts, presumably at their last Synod in 837.

67

At the top of the Byzantine hierarchy stood the Basileus, the Emperor. Next came Caesar, nobilissimus, and curopalates, normally positions held by members of the imperial family. They were followed by: magister, antihypatus, patricius, protospatharius and eleven others.

120

2 The main transmitters

with her the Patriarch, Ignatius, who was very devoted to her but was bitterly hated by Bardas. Ignatius was deposed on November 23, 857° and banished, as we have recorded, to the isle of Terebinthos.

It was Bardas’ wish that Photius

became the next Patriarch, though the latter was a layman at the time. Within six days (December 20-25) he received the six necessary ordinations, the last being that to bishop, and was consequently elected Patriarch of Constantinople. Photius' life changed dramatically after he was elected as Patriarch, a position he disclaims to have had any ambition for (cf. p. 83?). He was pressed to in order to appease various parts of the Church. This does not mean that Ignatius, or for that matter his partisans, surrendered

so easily. In various ways they tried to hinder Photius and claimed (not completely unjustified) that his election was unlawful: they turned to Rome for help. In the meantime problems between on the one side Ignatius and his loyalists and Photius and supporters on the other continued. In different Synods each deposed the other, and the Patriarch of Rome, the Pope (Nicholas I) complicated matters even more. He did not like Ignatius but was curious to know why he was deposed and therefore, for the time being, refused to accept Photius as Patriarch of Constantinople.

Meanwhile he claimed some jurisdiction

in matters that de iure were not his and explained Rome’s views regarding the veneration of images. He announced that he would send some legates to find out for themselves how the situation was in Constantinople and report to him. After the papal legates had arrived in 860, they participated in another Synod, condemning and deposing Ignatius, condemning iconoclasm, and issuing a canon that prohibited future investitures of laymen to a bishopric. Also Photius tried to placate the Pope, but the latter did not like the results of the Synod and the way they were agreed upon. Finally he decided in favour of Ignatius and deposed Photius in 863. In the meantime the influence of the Patriarchate of Constantinople was extended into Slav territory, namely Moravia.

Its king asked for Christian missionaries and Photius sent his pupil and friend Constantine with his (= C.’s) brother Methodius and they set themselves to their task. Constantine had developed a Slavonic script, the Glagolitic, for the purpose of making the Bible and other Christian writings accessible to the Slav peoples. Moreover, also Bulgaria was brought to Byzantine Christianity. Emperor Michael III reacted to the decisions taken by the Pope only in 865 and denied him the right to interfere in Byzantine domestic matters, like the deposition of Ignatius. In response the Pope claimed authority over all ecclesiastic matters, including Byzantine. In this respect the request to the Pope by 68 69

C. de Boor proposed 858, but this is not generally recognized: Ziegler 1950, 677. Several objections were made against his appointment, but (as already stated) not young age: this confirms the opinion that he was at that time at least 30 or, more likely, even over 35:

this assumption is based upon two laws of Justinian (Nov. 137 and 123).

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

121

the Bulgar king to make his Church become independent, a request denied by

Photius, came for the Pope as a divine gift. The Pope showed himself willing to fulfil the Bulgar king's wishes, at least partly. This deepened the controversy

between Pope and Photius.

Also politically there were some problems at Constantinople. Bardas gradually fell out of favour with the Emperor to the benefit of a man by the name

of Basil. In 866 Bardas was killed and hardly one month later Basil had been crowned as co-emperor by the Emperor and his Patriarch Photius. Meanwhile the latter had convened another Synod, which condemned western practices uncommon to Orthodoxy but now introduced into Bulgaria by the Pope. The

Pope sought and found support with western theologians: the attack on Photius in person and on Orthodoxy in general had become full-scale. In defence,

Photius assembled an Ecumenical Council in 867. Pope Nicholas I was condemned and declared to be deposed: the schism was complete. Nicholas I did

not live to witness it: he died before the letter containing the message reached Rome. Hadrian II was the next Pope. As long as Emperor Michael III was still alive, Photius remained in office and could continue his struggle with the Pope. However, in September 867 Basil disposed of his imperial partner and became sole ruler. Being very much Bardas' and Michael's man, Photius was no longer wanted. By removing Photius, Basil also could try to take the heat off the conflict between Byzantium and the Holy See at Rome and he turned to the Ignatians for support. Photius was persuaded to resign and Ignatius returned as patriarch (867—877). Photius was banished to the other side of the Bosporus, to Stenos, where his great-uncle the Patriarch Tarasius had founded a monastery and had been buried. Further action was taken, notably by Pope Hadrian II, to prevent Photius and people ordained by him from ever assuming any function within the Church, moreover condemning and burning all documents written by Photius that were directed

against Rome. A Council was to convene at Constantinople to ratify these decisions: it assembled in 869. 'The Council was a victory for the Pope, but not

a complete one: the primacy of Rome in ecclesiastical matters was not recognised (a Pentarchy, the Pope only being primus inter pares, was preferred by all but the Romans), nor was Rome to mingle in Bulgar matters. Gradually it became clear at Byzantium that one could not proceed without

Photius. He was recalled from banishment in 875 and was entrusted with the education of the Emperor's sons. Gradually Photius even usurped, with or without Ignatius’ formal consent, some of the Patriarch's duties. In 876, a formal reconciliation between Ignatius and Photius took place. The precise nature of the relationship between the one-time rivals is not exactly clear, nor

which role the Emperor played in this game.

When Ignatius finally died on

October 23, 877, it only was a matter of days before Photius was reinstated as

I22

2

The main transmitters

the Patriarch of Constantinople. One of his first acts was to canonize Ignatius. Photius' election was confirmed at an Ecumenical Council that gathered in Constantinople in 879. His relation with the Emperor was perfect and as

long as Basil lived his (= Photius’) power was indisputed. Though

the papal policy towards Photius and the East had failed, a new

schism between Orthodoxy and the West was avoided, though relations were far from cordially. The death of Basil in 886 also meant the downfall of Photius. Though Basil's successor, Leo VI the Wise, had been educated by Photius,

the two had drifted apart. Shortly after his accession Leo invited Photius to lay down the patriarchy and to retire to a monastery. His (= Photius) successor became Prince Stephanus, like Leo educated by Photius and moreover consecrated deacon by him. Photius died in exile, in 891 or perhaps even as late as 897. From the end of the Xth century he is regarded as one of the saints of the Orthodox Church. D. Education and libraries at Constantinople

As for Photius’ knowledge we have a sufficiently clear indication. Nicetas Paphlagonius writes: »Aforementioned Photius did not belong to the nameless un-

derlayer of society but to the, in earthly respect, nobles and prominent and one thought that he had the best reputation of all living within the empire, as regards worldly wisdom and acuteness. On the fields of grammar and poetry, of rhetoric and philosophy, behold even of medicine and almost any profane science he excelled to such an extent that one was almost ready to state that he not only surpassed everyone of his generation, but even already challenged the ancients. For everything converged in his person: natural talent, diligence, wealth—by which also every book found its way to him— but above all the desire for fame,

due to which he spent sleepless nights diligently using his time with reading«. One should take into account that the writer of these lines belonged to Photius' adversaries. Generally Photius was considered to have been one of the three wisest men of his age, the others being Leo Philosophus or Mathematicus (c. 800—870) and the monk Constantine (Cyrillus Thessalonicensis [c. 826-869]),

a pupil of Photius. Constantine is best known as the Cyril who, together with

his brother Methodius [Methodius Thessalonicensis: c. 820—c. 885], preached among the Slavs. The link between wealth and books made by Nicetas is understandable looking at the prices of books. Arethas (c. 860—c. 935) paid 14 gold pieces for a copy of Euclid, 21 for one of Plato. Civil service salaries started at 72

gold pieces per antium and, exceptionally, might rise to 3,500 (Reynolds/Wilson 70

Nicetas Paphlagonius (also known as Nicetas David), Vita Ignatii (= Migne PG 105, 509A/B; cf. for additional evidence on Photius’ learning Brokkaar 1995, 9, n.19).

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

123

1991, 64). As they state: »Book collecting was not a hobby for men of modest

means« (ibid.). How and when Photius amassed his learning remains hidden.

Photius re-

mains silent on his education. We have no information whether he was an auto-

didact or that his learning was the result of an elaborate training by a teacher. It has been argued that the latter was the case, the teacher, most likely, being Leo Philosophus (cf. Brokkaar 1995, 10; cf. also Wilson 1996, 89, and Lemerle

1971, 182). Hunger (1989, 670) is quite convinced that Photius has been a pupil of Leo." The fact that Leo Philosophus was a convinced iconoclast has been

adduced as one of the reasons for Photius to keep this connection concealed. Also Ziegler does not believe that Photius was an autodidact. The fact that he

does not mention his teacher(s) is, according to Ziegler, the result of ambition, to avoid having to show himself grateful to someone (Ziegler 1950, 671). Already at a young age Photius started as a teacher (Ziegler 1950, 672). At his

private academy logics and dialectics, mathematics, and theology were taught (Ziegler 1950, 674).

Teaching was, however, only an additional occupation.

Photius’ main concern was his political activity at the imperial court, guided by his sophistication, political insight, self-consciousness, and burning ambi-

tion (Ziegler 1950, 676; though Ziegler's article is most instructive, one can

not accuse him of any favourable disposition regarding Photius as a person). According to Wilson (1996, 20—1), the larger part of teaching in Byzantium was

centred around the seven liberal arts (which also Nicetas hinted at): grammar, rhetoric, and logic (the trivium), music, geometry, arithmetic, and astronomy

(the quadrivium). However, it may be doubted whether the basic elements of trivium and quadrivium were as strictly observed at Constantinople as in Western Europe (Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 75). As for grammar, from the early days of the Roman Empire the standard of writing Greek was to conform to the rules of the Ionic or, rather, Attic prose

of the fifth and fourth centuries BC (cf. also supra, p. 90 sq.). The importance this language still had for the Byzantine world may, perhaps, best be shown by an example, in this case the figure of St. John Damascene (c. 675-c.

750), one

of the great theologians and writers of hymns of Greek Orthodoxy.

He had

been educated in the traditional Greek fashion (though he had also perfectly mastered Arabic).

He knew the classical philosophers, Plato and Aristotle, by

heart, had to know them thoroughly since the Greek Church had adapted concepts of these philosophers in her attempts to describe the great truths of the faith (the divinity of Christ, His nature, the doctrine of the Trinity). Within this framework the standard was: »Originality means loyalty to the origins; sc. 71

There is, however, no single source that links these scholars as teacher and pupil.

Hansen

mentions in the LAA (538, s.v. Photios) »der verleumderische Legende« (preserved by Ps. Symeon) that Photius had been educated by a Jewish sorcerer.

124

2 The main transmitters

the writers (and of these of course pre-eminently the philosophers) ofthe fourth century BC.” Such an emphasis on classical texts, especially the Ionic/Attic ones, makes it feasible that in its margin also a work like Ctesias' Persica could

survive. As discussed, the Atticist fashion had taken root in the first century AD,

was enhanced by theological necessity (as remarked regarding St. John Damascene), and, far from ebbing away in the course of time, lasted until the end of the Byzantine period. Such an imitation of a language that, at the begin-

ning of this development, was already half of a millennium out of date was no easy task to perform. That the fashion could continue for so long, confirms

the image that Church authorities did not try to thors or their works effectively (at least not of considered as classical). In fact, they could not large extent dependent on continuation of the

ban the influence of pagan authose whose Greek was to be do so because they were to a classical tradition since it was

in this very tradition that their views had been shaped.

The importance also

Photius attributed to correct Attic is clear from his remarks regarding different works. Some examples should suffice: on the work of Phlegon of Tralles (a libertus of the Emperor Hadrian), codex 97 of Photius’ Bibliotheca, Photius remarks »... he (sc. Phlegon) does not always preserve the Attic character ...«; regarding Theognostus of Alexandria (mid third c. AD, codex 106 of the Bibliotheca) ». . (He) uses beautiful language, as in ordinary Attic, ...«; and concerning

Libanius (314—393 AD, codex 90 of the Bibliotheca): »... in other respects he is a canon and model of Attic style ...« A convenient review of the developments in the period between the IVth and the VIth centuries is presented by Marasco 2003.

Though the currículum, a set of works considered to be elementary for proper education and basic civil conversation, showed some changes, e.g., by the inclu-

sion of the Psalms and a selection of 16 sermons and addresses by St. Gregory of Nazianzus, it remained largely unchanged over the centuries. Already at an

early stage, some of the church-fathers, like Origen (IInd-IlIrd centuries, at the Council of Constantinople in 553 condemned as a heretic because he rejected Christ's carnal resurrection), St. Basil (IVth century), and St. John Chrysostom (IVth century and reportedly a student of the pagan Libanius), had advocated sufficient knowledge of pagan authors (Wilson 1996, 8—9). The same may

be said of Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 260—339, and through his tutor Pamphilus belonging to the school of Origen), who is to be considered as the effective

founder of the Christian genres of Church history and chronicle. Amongst his many works was a Chronographia. Though the work itself is lost, it survives ina 72

CE. for St. John Damascene: A. Louth, St. John Damascene: Tradition and Originality in Byzantine Theology, Oxford 2002.

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

125

Latin version by Jerome and in a translation into Armenian. The latter we will encounter in Chapters III and IV where Eusebius referred to Ctesias (although he was by no means the only pagan author referred to). Eusebius' knowledge of Ctesias’ work, however, may be indirect, e.g. through Diodorus, whose second

book probably was used as his direct source of information on the Assyrians (cf. Carriker 2003, 143). Ctesias’ own work is not mentioned as component of the library at Caesarea,

but neither is Herodotus’, though Carriker concedes (Carriker 2003, 153) that »a copy of Herodotus' history could be found in the library of Caesarea.« This notion is in line with the remark by K. Mras (Die Praeparatio evangelica, Berlin 1954, p. lvii-lviii) that the library of Caesarea was rich in the works of historians and later Platonists. The latter is only natural since, as we have seen, Ortho-

doxy had increasingly elevated the knowledge of the classical philosophers into a theological necessity. Unfortunately no catalogue survives of this important and reasonably well-investigated library of Caesarea, founded by Origen to support his work on Biblical criticism and teaching, and further endowed by

1.4. Pamphilus (Carriker 2003, xiii). Gradually, between the IInd century and the IVth century (cf. e.g., Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 34 sqq.), classical texts were transcribed from papyrus rolls into either a papyrus or a parchment codex in order to facilitate reading. Also Eusebius' successors envisaged this as their major task. At some stage during this process—and I would advocate the theory of a rather late date in this respect, due to its essentially limited general interest—, also the Persica was transcribed,

possibly in the Uncial script. The suggestion for a later date for the transcription of Ctesias' text may be found in Aulus Gellius’ account of the collection of scrolls written in Greek which he bought at Brundisium, including texts by Ctesias: ipsa autem volumina ex diutino situ squalebant et habitu aspectuque taetro erant (»however, the rolls themselves were filthy from long neglect, repulsive to hold and see«: Gell. IX.iv.4). The context (Gell. IX.iv.9—11) suggests that Aulus

Gellius bought himself, i.a., a copy of Ctesias’ Indica, the passage itself suggests that at least this work was probably not yet copied into a codex at that moment. As it is, the handwriting of what is probably the only original surviving fragment of Ctesias’ Persica, P.Oxy. 2330, suggests as date of its origin the second half ofthe second century AD. It has all the features ofa text written on a scroll and not those of a codex (cf. infra, Ch. ΠῚ ad F. 8b and Plate 1, p. XVI).

Though there was at Byzantium no obvious consistent policy of destruction of

texts that failed to meet the requirement of Orthodoxy, some precautions were taken.

On the other hand, iconoclasts had set, as we discussed earlier, whole

monastic libraries on fire (presumably mainly provided with more recent works of Orthodox origin, though probably necessarily also a number of ancient lit-

erary texts, like Plato e.a.), especially during the reign of Constantine V Cop-

I26

2

The main

transmitters

ronymus. Texts chat met with official disapproval generally appear to have been kept in a special chest in the patriarchate and only released to suitable persons. This chest is recorded by the Patriarch Germanus I (c. 634—732: Migne, PG 98, 53A), but probably already hinted at by Leontius of Byzantium (c. 485—c. 543: Migne, PG 86, 1384; cf. Wilson 1996, 15; also Schamp 1987, 35). A se-

lection of what remained as passable was incorporated in the standard curriculum that gradually developed from the IInd century onwards. Much literature that was left out gradually disappeared (Wilson 1996, 19). If the Persica had, indeed,

been transcribed only in papyrus codices late in the IVth century, copies of it

must have been an extreme rarity in Photius’ days. Roderich Reinsch believes that papyrus remained in use as writing material until and including the VIth century and that from the IXth century onwards copies of classical works were

written in parchment codices. But, he continues, »there are no testimonies [sc. for the copying of classical works, JPS] for the»dark centuries« between the seventh and the ninth centuries, a time when the empire was facing a severe crisis in both foreign and internal policy«.? Wilamowitz thinks that large parts of the work were still available in the Xth century: »So bedauert man lebhaft den Verlust des Buches, von dem große Teile noch im zehnten Jahrhundert vorhanden waren« (Wilamowitz 1912, 98). I have seen no conclusive evidence to support this view, but it might be conceivable that fragments of it still circulated.

In the introductory letter that proceeds Photius' Bibliotheca proper, Photius hints at reading texts together with his brother Tarasius (and possibly others). Α group of dedicated readers, centred around Photius, is described by Lemerle (1971, 197—8). It has even been suggested that such a group accompanied Photius on an embassy (Goossens 1950, 515). At the end of the Byzantine period, however, much less of the ancient Greek literary heritage had been preserved

than at its start. Partly that was due to the fact that publishing and the book trade were comparatively poorly organized.

As an example Wilson (1996, 2)

mentions that many texts still read by Photius ceased to be copied in or after the IXth century: this may be the cause that Ctesias’ Persica was only indirectly (thanks to Nicholas) represented in the Excerpta Historica of Constantine VII.

We can, however, as Wilson also pointed out, probably not entirely blame the Byzantines for the whole loss. The destruction of Byzantium in 1204, during the 4th crusade, may have played a large part as well. As regards the text of Ctesias’ Persica there is, unfortunately, no way of knowing how common it still was in the early IXth century (cf. also Wilamowitz 1912, 98, quoted supra). Access to it largely depends on whether there was ever a complete manuscript of it copied into a parchment codex. Even then 73

D. Roderich Reinsch, »Byzantine Adaptations Rengakos/Tsakmakis 2006.

of Thucydides,

pp.

755—778,

p. 756 in

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

I27

its continuity after the early or middle [Xth century was not assured. There is no certainty that the Persica was sufficiently important to survive the trans-

ition (around the beginning of the IXth century) of texts written in the earlier majuscule into later minuscule.

If not, it consequently underwent the fate of

so many texts, sc. to be used as a palimpsest (cf. Hunger 1989, 20-2, 64—6). Another critical moment for the Persica's survival as text was the aftermath of the liberation of Constantinople by the crusaders and later that by the Turks. The fact that neither the Suda nor, more important, the preserved parts of the Excerpta Constantiniana present us with relevant direct nominatim fragments of the Persica might serve as a strong indication that it had, in spite of Wilamow-

itz's opinion, probably (largely) disappeared by the time of the Xth century. Moreover, the references in the Suda to the Persica lack both the name of the work and its author and are completely indirect.

Though the iconoclasts have, reportedly, destroyed many books, Schamp (1987, 501) rejects the notion that the iconoclasts in general were hostile towards culture. In the shadow of seriptoria and libraries much cultural grandeur was yet maintained. Photius' Bibliotheca testifies, according to him, more of continuity than of renewal and could, therefore, rightly be called ἃ »Musée littéraire

vivant«. As regards this argument I would like to counter (without detracting from the importance and value of museums): »But a museum nonetheless, and objects in museums generally tend to be obsolete or at least rare«. Schamp's testimony of continuity is, therefore, an unreliable witness for his case: last will

and testament of continuity might well be the more appropriate words. What is clear is, however, that we cannot state, with a fair degree of certainty, that the iconoclastic controversy is responsible for a decline in culture in general. At any rate, it appears that the educational system remained unaltered and also that

the majority of the books used in the curriculum had survived. Nevertheless, we have to admit that the violent struggles arising out of the iconoclast movement did much to destroy the conditions in which literary and scientific study might flourish (Wilson 1996, 61—8). A second element that has effected the development of (written) culture is the shift of learning from various centres of the Byzantine Empire to single

one, sc.

Constantinople.

Once the Arabs had conquered the south-eastern

provinces of the Empire, and cities like Antioch, Caesarea, Gaza, and Alexandria were lost, Constantinople developed more or less by necessity as a cultural

and learned centre. As the Empire's capital the city already had an university,

though it hardly deserved that qualification (cf. Wilson 1996, 49). From the age of Justinian only one monument remains, though at present only in the form ofan incomplete epitome, sc. the geographical lexicon by Stephen of Byzantium

(Wilson 1996, 55). Though Constantinople certainly tried to offer an alternative to the ancient centres of learning and knowledge, we can but admit that

128

2 The main transmitters

much knowledge was lost to the Empire and was only retained thanks to the Arabs (v. infra $ 4.1.6.3). Two developments of enormous importance took place in this very period of transition: the introduction of paper as writing material (an alternative to papyrus, and even parchment: Wilson 1996, 63) and, already mentioned above,

the introduction of a new script, the minuscule.

Minuscule writing used the

writing material far more economically and thereby soon became the regular script for producing books (Wilson 1996, 66).

Most works belonging to the

curriculum were transcribed and survived (at least for a while), many works were less fortunate and were consequently, sooner or later, lost.

There were at least two, but possibly four or more, more or less substantial, collections of books at Constantinople.

First was the emperors' library (date

of foundation unknown, but soon after 300). Its size is also unknown, but, according to Wilson (1980, 278), »Obviously it was a large library by the standards

of the day«, though apparently not complete. It probably served the imperial family and officials employed in the palace, but whether outsiders had access to it is unknown,

though it is not likely.

Wilson (1980, 281, in connection

with his remark ad p. 281 on 303) assumes that the second and third may have

been the libraries of the primarily secular university and the mainly theological (patriarchal) academy.

The former was established in about 425 (Theodosius

II), the latter possibly somewhat later.

Both suffered during the iconoclastic

period and may temporarily have come to an end.

Soon after this period the

patriarchal academy was re-established, the secular university in 863 by Leo the Philosopher under the patronage of the Caesar, at the time Bardas. Of these libraries we have but scanty information, though we can say that the universities

have not left any trace of a substantial central library. The fourth library, and the second substantial ate. Originally it may have been established by but it was burnt down in 726. After this disaster unknown when precisely. What we do know is

one, was that of the patriarchPatriarch Sergius (610—638), it was re-established, but it is that one of Photius' students,

Constantine (better known as [St.] Cyril) had been in charge of it for some time before he went on his mission to the Slavs (cf. Wilson 1980, 282).

We

also know that there was a special chest for heretical literature at the patriarch's library (cf. Lemerle 1971, 96 and note 81; also supra p. 125). Regarding access to this library much is unclear. It appears that the higher one's status, the easier the access was. For students it will probably not have been easy to enter this library.

Apart from these four libraries there had been a public library at Constantinople; it was founded by the Emperor Julian the Apostate and destroyed by fire in 476 (cf. p. 3 and note 8). Whether it was re-established afterwards remains unclear (cf. Wilson 1980, 283). Also some monasteries, especially those

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

129

belonging to the ones that followed the rule of (St.) Theodore of Studium, had a library. An example is the Chora monastery, where Maximus Planudes,

monk and scholar, ran a school c. 1300 (Wilson 1980, 285 sq.). The number of such libraries, however, is unknown, as is their scale. It was in this cultural cli-

mate and against this background that Photius deployed his talents as compiler, excerpter, teacher, and writer. E. Photius! Lexicon

As we have seen above, the ideal for proper use of the language was the imitation of classical Attic Greek, a language that in the Byzantine period was at least three

quarters of a millennium out of date. Such a proper use was no easy task to perform, the more so since colloquial Greek constantly developed and moved away from the classical ideal. As a help to the needy several lexicographical

works were compiled (Wilson 1996, 4—5). Photius is known to have written an enormous amount of works, pamph-

lets, and letters (of which 299 are transmitted: Brokkaar 1995, 77 sqq.): the vast majority of them is of religious nature. For us the most important of his works are the works known as the Lexicon and the Bibliotheca. The Lexicon, or minimally a first draft of it, may be considered as a work of Photius’ youth. It is

at least referred to as such by Photius himself in his Quaestiones ad Amphilochium or Amphilochia, a discourse on 300 largely theological problems, dedicated to

his pupil and friend Amphilochius (cf. Amph. 21, 132—136: Brokkaar 1995, 42 sqq. and note 140). The full title of what we know as Photius' Lexicon is Alphabetical list (collec-

tion) of words which lend particular elegance to the compositions of orators and prose writers (Λέξεων Συναγωγὴ . . .), and was obviously meant as a pendant to the poetical vocabulary of Diogenianus (by the way, not a work included in the Bibliotheca), a work, according to Photius, second to none.

In spite of Photius' efforts, his

Lexicon does not appear to have been widely used (Wilson 1996, 92). Though S.A. Naber took care of an edition of Photii Patriarchae Lexicon (Leiden 1864—5), based upon the Codex Galeanus, dated to the very end of the XIIth century, he himself concluded regarding the text: Multa deesse patet. . . (»It is obvious that much is lacking...«). However, no identifiable copy of

the whole work had been found until some decades ago. In September 1959, Politis discovered in the monastery of Zavorda (West Macedonia), among other

finds, a manuscript containing i.a. the complete text of Photius' Lexicon (Politis 1980, 645). The manuscript, presently registered as codex Zavorda 95, dates from

the late XIIIth century or early XIVth century and is written on paper (of east-

ern origin). The 406 leaves are bound in a strong »Bombyzinband«. Among the

130

2 The main transmitters

authors quoted in Photius’ Lexicon, number 6 of the manuscript, we find both writers of poetry and prose, including Ctesias (Politis 1980, 649 sqq.). Impressive as it may be, Photius heavily relied on others in the compilation of this work. His main source was a reworked and enlarged version of another Collection (Συναγωγή) which is preserved in its original shape in the codex Coislinianus 345 (at Paris). Further Photius used Diogenianus, a work we know as the AéEetc ῥητορικαί (also known as the Quintum lexicon Bekkeri), Herodian

(who wrote several lexicographical works), Irenaeus, the Antiatticista (a lexicon from the IInd century, cf. DNP, s.v.), and Dorotheus (cf. Theodoridis 1982,

Ixxii). According to Ziegler (1950, 732), the Lexicon was probably compiled in the decade between 840 and 850. It was Photius’ own work and not made under his direction and guidance by one of his students (id. , 733). Photius himself calls ita »work of my youth«,”* whereas he mentions the Amphilochia as a»work of old age and fatigue«, finished during his first exile as patriarch. The now complete text reveals that Photius, next to a large number of other writers, also used ex-

amples taken from Ctesias (Politis 1980, 653—4). The use of writers is generally limited to a word, how it should be used, followed by the source, indicated by

“oo ..., βλάψαι ..., or οὕτως ..., which all may be conveniently translated as »according to ...«. Though real fragments occasionally occur, Photius’ Lexicon

does not bring us significant new fragments of Ctesias. The new fragments of other writers have been collected by Tsantsanoglou.5 What the Lexicon, however, appears to show beyond doubt, is that at this period Ctesias was still suffi-

ciently well-known so as to be used as an authority. That this indeed may have been the case appears from an example given by Wilson (1996, 75). He refers

to one Ignatius who, writing a letter of consolation, quotes a passage from Cte-

sias' Persica which we also know through Demetrius' On Style. Unfortunately we do not know whether Ignatius took his words directly from Ctesias or from Demetrius or from still another intermediary. F. Photius! Bibliotheca Introduction

The Bibliotheca is a collection of 279 (280) reviews (called codices) of works belonging to various genres, varying in length from two lines to seventy pages. Photius wrote his Bibliotheca in a tradition established by Aristotle and Callimachus (cf. Schamp 1987, 21). Originally the work consisted of 279 codices: 74

Cf. D.S. White, Patriarch Photius of Constantinople: His Life, Scholarly Contributions and Corres-

75

pondence, together with a "Translation of 52 of his Letters, Brookline, MA 1981, p. 16 and n. 10. K. Tsantsanoglou, New Fragments of Greek Literature from the Lexikon of Photios, ed. with a commentary, Athens 1984.

2.4

Photius of Constantinople

I3I

that we count presently 280 codices arises from a misconception,

separating co-

dex 88 (on the Synod of Nicaea) into two different codices, 88 and 89 (Ziegler 1950, 692). In the Bibliotheca classical, late antique, and early Byzantine writers are epitomized. "Theological texts outnumber secular ones with 239 to 147,

though they only take 43 per cent of the whole work (cf. Wilson 1994, 8). Much attention is given to historians, with, apparently, a particular liking for

writers dealing with the Orient (Wilson 1994, 11). Poetry is absent. The work is dedicated to his brother Tarasius. The name itself, Bibliotheca, is, though older than the XVIth century, postByzantine. For the first time in the XIVth century the work is also called Μυριοβίβλιον (Muriobiblion), Μυριόβιβλος (Muriobiblos), or Μυριόβιβλον (Muriobiblon: Brokkaar 1995, 41). Neither Bibliotheca nor Muriobiblos (or -(i)on) has

therefore, as a title, any authority in the manuscript tradition, but they are convenient and well established terms. The work is presentedby Photius as a vo-

luminous package of notes on books, with a systematic counting. Effectively, the Bibliotheca is no more than a collection of reviews, a kind of anthology, or

possibly comparable with what is called at some modern universities a »reader« (Schamp 1987, 30; c£. also Schamp 1987, 34). Of the books Photius read, 211

(about 55 per cent) do not survive as completely as he has read them. Entirely lost are 110, another 51 only survive in fragments (apart from their presence in the Bibliotheca), 27 lack substantial parts of the text, 13 are only preserved in Latin -, Coptic -, or Slavonic translations (cf. Treadgold 1980, 9).

Treadgold discerns two parts within the Bibliotheca.

The first part consists

of the codices 1—233. This part was partly dictated by Photius (who, in doing this, apparently regularly used Hesychius Byzantinus' Epitome) to a secretary, partly taken by this secretary from Photius’ own handwritten notes. Because he could not finish the work in time, Photius appears to have given a collection

of his reading notes to his secretary with instructions to copy them and to add a codex number: the codices 234—280 were originally not likely intended to be included—in this form!—in the review of works for Tarasius (cf. Treadgold

1980, 37—66).

The last book in date reviewed by Photius is the History of the Church by Sergius the Confessor (codex 67), probably Photius' own father (Efthymiadis 1998, 10). It relates events up to 828 and probably was edited only a few years later (likely between 829 and 833, the date of his exile): it establishes as terminus post quem for the Bibliotheca approximately the year 830 (cf. Schamp 1987, 53). Codex 252 refers to a Life of Pope Gregory the Great, believed to have been adapted from a Latin version, written by John the Deacon between 873 and 875.7 76

The text itself, however, as far as I can see, does not contain any indication whether it was

originally written in Latin or Greek. The only thing we can state with certainty is the terminus

132

2

The main transmitters

Treadgold (1980, 30), convincingly in my opinion, denies this relationship beween the two Lives: c. 830 remains the most likely final year of composition of

the books reviewed by Photius. This, however, does not necessarily imply that the Bibliotheca was written shortly after that moment (v. infra, p. 137 sqq.). No clear answer can be given as to whether Photius owned the books he reviewed or whether he used a library or libraries. He himself remains silent on this subject. Since even for the highly-ranked, however, the costs of books

were substantial, we may probably infer that, although Photius certainly owned a comparatively large personal library (cf. the remarks of Nicetas Paphlagonius

supra, p. 122), he used other libraries as well, be it the Emperor's or the Patriarch's. Most copies he used may have survived until 1204, when the Crusade

did more damage than the Turks two and a half centuries later (Wilson 1994, 6). Whether this assumption is also valid for Ctesias’ works is an enigma: it should be noted, as indicated before, that the excerpta Constantiniana, as far as we know,

did not refer directly to either the Persica or the Indica. It might, as I suggested earlier as well, be an indication that Ctesias’ works were at least extremely rare if not altogether lost by then.

Date of the»embassy« In a letter Photius once complained that he would have rather become a monk, but was prevented from doing so by worldly occupations in the service of the Emperor (v. supra). The worldly occupations possibly included participation in an embassy to the Arabs (»Assyrians«), as mentioned in the preface of the Bibliotheca. 1f we do not consider this embassy a literary fiction, it should be dated between 843 and 858. Photius, with his iconodule relatives, hardly seems

a likely candidate for an official function during the iconoclastic period— which ended in 843. On the other hand it is equally unlikely that the Patriarch of Constantinople should be member of such an enterprise with all its risks (cf. Brokkaar 1995, 6 sqq.). As we have discussed above, Byzantine-Arab wars were frequent, and there-

fore also embassies between the two courts may well have been a more or less

regular feature. In the preface of the Bibliotheca Photius states: ᾿Επειδὴ τῷ τε κοινῷ τῆς πρεσβείας καὶ τῇ βασιλείῳ ψήφῳ πρεσβεύειν ἡμᾶς ἐπ᾽ ' Aocoptouc αἱρεθέντας ἥτησας τὰς ὑποθέσεις ἐκείνων τῶν βιβλίων, οἷς μὴ παρέτυχες ἀναγινωσχομένοις, γραφῆναί σοι, ἀδελφῶν φίλτατέ μοι, Ταράσιε, iv’ ἔχοις ἅμα μὲν τῆς διαζεύξεως ἣν βαρέως φέρεις παραμύθιον, ἅμα δὲ καὶ ὧν οὔπω εἰς ἀκοὰς ἡμῶν ἀνέγνως εἰ καὶ διατυπωτικήν τινα καὶ κοινοτέραν post quem for this codex, i.e. 752, by the reference made to Pope Zacharias as the translator of

a number of Gregory's works into Greek (Phot. Bibl. [252] 467b8—14). Zacharias occupied the Holy See from 741—752.

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

133

τὴν ἐπίγνωσιν. (»After we were appointed by the common wish of the delegation and by the emperor's decision to serve on an embassy to the Assyrians, you asked to have a written report of the contents of such books as were read in

your absence, dearest of brothers to me, Tarasius, in order to have some comfort for the separation which you find so hard, and at the same time to obtain at

least a summary and general knowledge of works that you have not read in our company.«: Phot. Bibl., Intr. 1-5). Somewhat further (ll. 7-8) he writes that he found himself a secretary and that they recorded all his »mnémé could produce. These lines have provoked a discussion on various aspects of the message.

Our first task, I think, is to consider when the embassy may have taken place, keeping the time limitations as set by, e.g., Brokkaar in mind.

Schamp (1987, 38—9) believes that the Bibliotheca was compiled at Constantinople before the embassy left. The date of the embassy is harder to establish. As far as known nowadays four, real or alleged, expeditions might qualify

(cf. Schamp 1987, 39—41): 1. an embassy in 855, well attested in Arab sources: this mission concerned an exchange of prisoners, did not cross the Byzantine-Islamic border, and

only one ambassador, a man called George, is mentioned by name; 2.the

same name,

George,

is mentioned

in an obscure passage in the

Slavonic Life of Constantine and Cyril as an ambassador to the Sasanians of Samarra’ in 851;

3. following the execution ordered by Caliph Al-Wathiq of 42 Byzantine prisoners (taken at Amorium)

on 6 March 845 because they refused to

convert to Islam, an embassy (attested by a passage of Al-Tabari) was sent from Constantinople.

Its aim was to accomplish another exchange of

prisoners, a goal successfully achieved in September of the same year.

4. in 838, well attested in Greek sources, a Byzantine embassy to the Caliph Al-Mutaim followed the devastating defeat at Dazimon, resulting in the loss of Ancyra and Amorium, home of the then ruling Byzantine

imperial family.

However, Photius' participation in any of these embassies cannot be established with any certainty.

In an impressive review of facts Treadgold explains that

Photius must have composed the Bibliotheca in 845, to be precise, in the spring

of that year, just in advance of the embassy to the court of Caliph Al-Wäthiq (see figure 7, p. 112), then residing at Sämarrä’, which is located on the East

bank of the Tigris in ancient Assyria (Treadgold 1980, 16—36). Ziegler (1950, 677) points out, there is a problem.

However, as

134

2

The main transmitters

In the records regarding, probably, the embassy of 855 (and not the 845 embassy mentioned by Treadgold) »the« secretary is mentioned next to »Georgios« and it is announced that the exchange of prisoners (with the Arabs) had to take place on February 12 or 23, 856 by the River Lamus close to Tarsus in Cilicia. Record 451 ofthe state records states: »Gesandschaft des Georgios (Polassa), des »sekretarios« (Photios) (und des Konstantinos-Kyrillos?) an der Araberkalifen (Mutavakkil) mit geschenken, um über einen gefangenen-austausch zu verhandeln.—Der austausch findet am 12. oder 23. febr. 856 am Lamusflusse statt«-,

followed by sources and literature. (LAA, 538 s.v.

Also Goossens (1950, 514) and Hansen

»Photios:) appear to believe that Photius partook in the 855-

embassy to Caliph Al-Mutawakkil (see figure 7). On the other hand Lemerle (1971, 37-42, 179—82) states that Photius was a member of the 838-mission. I

find that hard to comprehend, as at this time iconoclasm still was official policy and Photius and his family were, as far as is known, at that time still exiled be-

cause of their well-known iconodulism. Irrespective of Photius' talents, such an appointment for a delicate mission would have been a politically too risky and dangerous—and therefore unlikely— decision. There are, apart from the orthography, some problems to interpret above-

mentioned record 451 of the state records. I must confess in advance that I have seen only Dólger's text and not the original manuscript or a photograph of it. In a note Dölger acknowledges that another (Slavonic) source dates the embassy of Constantine-Cyril to 851. As for the secretary's name, Photius, I have to as-

sume it is rather Dólger's suggestion than a representation of the actual text. The text might refer to Photius' position of protoasekretis, and the emendation

therefore be correct, but I can see no conclusive evidence, as yet. The only thing we can understand is that a man of Photius' stature could be an important asset in any embassy. As it is, I think we cannot but conclude that there is no decisive evidence,

apart from Photius' statement (and we will have to go deeper into that later), to determine whether Photius ever partook in any embassy, when it took place, and where precisely it went. This conclusion alone leaves plenty of space for all

kinds of speculations. One of the most intriguing of these speculations is the one by Hemmerdinger, stating that Photius may have composed the Bibliotheca at Baghdad. Since the editor of the Bibliotheca, Henry, appears to take this theory seriously, I will deal with it more fully than might be necessary. 77

C£ E Dólger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches, Teil I: von 565 bis chen/Berlin 1924, 54.

1025, Mün-

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

135

The theory of the »Baghdad-library« If we accepted the idea that Photius read the books, of which he promised Tarasius the reviews, during his embassy to the Caliphate, there are, basically, two possibilities. The first is that he had taken these books with him,

the second that he had found them during the embassy.

The first possibility

would probably have required an enormous amount of luggage, though Beck (1975, 429) rightly remarks that we do not have any information whatsoever regarding the amount of luggage that was normal for a Byzantine embassy. It, therefore, remains a serious option. Also Goossens believes in the possibility

that Photius read the books en route, accompanied by a group of fellow-readers or students (Goossens 1950, 515), without contemplating the risks, subtleties, niceties, conventions etc. involved with such embassies. As for the second, Beck (ibidem) reminds us of the view of Hemmerdinger (1956). In a short notice Hemmerdinger presents the idea that there was an import-

ant Greek colony, incorporating writers and translators, at Baghdad, suggesting the presence of a significant Greek library.

There, Hemmerdinger supposes,

Photius may well have read the books described in the Bibliotheca.

Precisely

the fact that many codices represent works containing heretic writings (v. infra) might support this view. According to Hemmerdinger it would be easier to find such books at Baghdad than in Constantinople where the official Or-

thodoxy was ever-present (Hemmerdinger 1956, 103; also Beck, loc. cit.). Also according to Hemmerdinger (loc. cit.), the Baghdad Greek library vanished in 1258 during the sack of Baghdad (by Hülegü, the Mongol). Photius presents, in Hemmerdinger's view, a number of the last copies of works still extant in his times.

It is sad that Hemmerdinger has never found time or opportunity to elaborate this challenging theory, which—perhaps—might explain some problems.

Some years ago the problem of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement in

Baghdad and the early ‘Abbasid society has been extensively studied (Gutas 1998). Most of the works translated from Greek into Arabic appear to have been found outside Baghdad (e.g. Gutas 1998, 179 and n. 53).

However, re-

garding the importance of this issue, to assess which part of the Greek literary

tradition was preserved where, it seems appropriate to me to digress here shortly on the importance of Baghdad, at least until the times of Photius, with respect

to Greek literature.

A few decades after the death of the Prophet Muhammad in 632 (or AH 10 = 10 of che Muslim calender), the Islamic armies had conquered the greater

part of what had once been the empire of Alexander the Great. The Umayyads, with Damascus as their capital, had taken over the Persian Sasanian Em-

pire (that lasted from 224 to 651) and reunited Egypt and the Fertile Crescent

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with Persia and India politically, administratively, and economically. Remark-

ably, the Umayyad central administration followed Byzantine practices by and large, while also the language of administration was Greek until c. 700 (Gutas 1998, 17). Around 750 Umayyad power was overthrown by the 'Abbasids. They transferred the capital (and seat of the Caliphate) from Damascus to Baghdad”, where a new multicultural society developed (Gutas 1998, 19). This city had been founded (in 762) by Abü Ga'far Al-Mansür (see figure 7) on the West bank of the River Tigris, some 20 miles north of Ctesiphon, the ancient Sas-

anian capital. About that same time, in 751, Chinese prisoners of war intro-

duced the paper-making industry in the Islamic world. Soon paper became the main writing material: its use was strongly supported by the ‘Abbasid rulers (Gutas 1998, 13).

It was in these surroundings of the ‘Abbasid Caliphate (cf. figure 7 for a pedigree of ‘Abbasid rulers until about Photius’ time) that translation projects (including a Graeco-Arabic one) were initiated. Caliph Al-Mansür claimed that the ‘Abbasids not only were the descendants of the Prophet, but at the same time also the successors of the ancient empires— from Babylonians to Sasanians inclusive (Gutas 1998, 28-9). The last part of this claim was reinforced by the location of Baghdad in the close proximity of Ctesiphon. There, in Baghdad, the famous Bayt al-Hikma (litt.: house of wisdom = library) was founded, allegedly by Caliph Al-Ma'mün or Caliph Härün ar-Raßid (cf. Gutas 1998, 54-5). Such an institution was already common in the Sasanian Empire, where the library was at least somehow affiliated with state administration. It appears, therefore,

justified to suppose that the Bayt al- Hikma was possibly already founded by AlMansür.

The Bayt al-Hikma was certainly not a centre for the translation of Greek works into Arabic, nor did this library—as far as evidence goes—store Greek manuscripts (cf. Gutas 1998, 58—9). Greek manuscripts to be translated (mainly philosophical texts like Aristotle's, but other texts as well”) were sought—and

found—throughout

the empire, but no mention is ever made

that they were found in the Baghdad library. What the library did do—and this merit is hardly to be overestimated— was to foster a climate in which a GraecoArabic translation movement could originate and prosper. It took advantage of the fact that, since state business had been conducted in Greek throughout the Umayyad period until the early VIIIth century, there was still a sufficient number of people within the Arabic world who mastered Greek (people with a similar education and social background as St. John Damascene). 78 79

Litterally the name of Baghdad means as much as »Gift of God«. The city is also known as Medina as-Saläm, »City of Peace«. Cf. forareview of and references to Greck texts translated into Arabic: Gutas 1998, 193—196; cf. also Reynolds/Wilson 1991, 55—8.

2.4 Photius of Constantinople

137

The translation movement also served political goals. Under Caliph AlMa'mün a total war with Byzantium was initiated. The Byzantines were portrayed not only as infidels, but also as culturally inferior both to Muslims and ancient Greeks. Allegedly they had turned their backs on ancient science because of Christianity, while the Muslims had welcomed it because of Islam. Muslim anti-Byzantinism thus becomes Muslim philhellenism, and the trans-

lation movement provided the Muslims with the ideological ammunition (cf. Gutas 1998, 84—5).

Let us, at this stage, examine the direct and indirect evidence: * under the ‘Abbasid Caliphate there existed a Graeco-Arabic translation

project;

* there obviously was a sufficient number of Greek speaking people (probably of various origins) to support such a project; * there is no single indication in the literary material that the Bayt al-Hikına itself possessed original Greek texts. However, as already stated earlier in the matter of Persian archives, absence of

proof does not equal proof of absence. On the contrary, in the period of about a century between the start of the translation project and the moment that Pho-

tius may have visited Baghdad, quite some Greek texts of various kinds and origins may have been assembled at Baghdad. Whether or not these texts were collected in a separate library can not be determined, nor whether—if it existed at all—it shared the fate of the Bayt al-Hikma during the destruction of Baghdad in 1258. It is conceivable that Photius, during his stay there (still assuming that he did), may have read at least part of the Greek texts present at Baghdad.

On the other hand stands Gutas' view: »One may make the observation and ask whether it is merely fortuitous that there is almost no overlap ... between the inventory of secular books in Photius' Bibliotheca and those works that were

translated into Arabic ...« (Gutas 1998, 186). We just do not have any certainty.

Moreover, since the court of the Caliphs in this period was generally established at Sämarrä’ (since it was a more practical base for wars against Byzantium and, remember, situated some 100 km north of Baghdad) we may seriously ques-

tion whether one single Byzantine embassy, let alone one member of such an embassy, ever had any opportunity to go as far as Baghdad, let alone for a suf-

ficient amount of time to read and/or epitomize all those books that compose the Bibliotheca. Reviewing the evidence, I think Hemmerdinger's idea is to be

treated with utmost wariness. As regards the 855 (or 851) embassy, it should be stressed, moreover, that many miles of unhospitable terrain separate the Lamus River (or Limonlu Cayı as it is presently known) in Cilicia and Baghdad (or, for

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that matter, Samarra’). It appears quite unlikely that an ambassador should have been allowed to travel for no obvious political goal from the Lamus to Baghdad in those days. So much for Baghdad and the problematic claim that Photius composed his Bibliotheca while serving on an embassy there. The next step is to look for the possibility of another moment or date of composition. Alternative dates of composition

For Treadgold it is essential that if it can be demonstrated that the Bibliotheca could have been composed as Photius says it was, we ought to believe him.

He thinks that if it were demonstrated that the work could have been composed otherwise, this mere fact alone is insufficient to reject (or even question) Photius' statement (Treadgold 1980, vii; also Wilson

1994, 3; Schamp

1987, 69-- 759). I completely agree: it is the pure application of Occam's razor. Nevertheless,

we have the obligation to scrutinize all data, sc.

also to look

whether the Bibliotheca can have been composed as Photius says it was. This scrutiny was also applied to Ctesias’ own statements, sc. regarding the time of his stay in Persia or his sources. Also in this case, therefore, we need to look whether there are problems to accept statements at face's value, whether there

are problems of, in legal terms, reasonable doubt. If such a situation would occur, as I think it does, then we are bound to look not only what Photius wrote: it simply means that his word alone is, then, no longer sufficient proof. In this case, I think there are two main problems. Surely: Treadgold has

shown beyond reasonable doubt that all works described in the Bibliotheca were composed before c. 843, two years before Treadgold supposes Photius joined an embassy. We have seen, though, that there is no solid evidence to determine whether Photius joined the 855, 851, 845, or any embassy at all. Only the prob-

ability of his partaking in the 838 embassy seems very remote, to state the least. It may be clear that I do not have any problem with the date of composition of the works Photius epitomized: I have a problem with linking Photius to a particular embassy. These, however, are issues of secondary importance. What

Treadgold does not deal with and what he really should have explained, is the nature of a number of books reviewed by Photius, namely the heretical works: that is the first main problem. Secondly, where and when can Photius have read this enormous amount of literature? Both problems, but the first especially (in

my opinion), seriously complicate the solution advocated by Treadgold. As for 80

In 1963, however, F. Halkin, »La date de composition de la « Bibliothéque » de Photius remise en question«, Analecta Bollandiana 81 (1963), 414—7, 416, renewed a discussion that had

started in the last years of the XIXth century. Essentially the argument of Halkin is that the Introduction and Conclusion of the Bibliothéka are, almost, completely literary fiction.

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Photius of Constantinople

139

the second problem, we already discussed part of that. I will deal more elabor-

ately with the first problem below, and later return to the second. First of all, some of the texts of the codices themselves evoke questions. Let us, for the moment and for convenience's sake, assume that Photius composed this

work in 845.

Regarding Nicholas of Damascus (whose Strange customs, ded-

icated to Herod, is mentioned in codex 189 as having been read) Photius also writes: »This man also left a History of Assyria in a large book, as far as I can remember reading long ago« (. . ὅσα παλαιὰν μνήμην ἀναγνωσμάτων ἔχομεν καταλέλοιπεν: Phot. Bibl. [189] 146a13~—4). No History of Assyria by Nicholas is known or mentioned elsewhere. Schamp (1987, 385) supposes, rightly in my opinion, that Photius had, once, read a part of the Historiae and remembered that part as a history of Assyria. That nothing of the Historiae remained in Pho-

tius’ days, as Schamp remarks (ibid.), is demonstrably wrong: years later parts of it were used in the Excerpta Constantiniana. What really matters here is the term »long ago«, hardly an expression one would expect of a relatively young writer of, say, 25—30- odd years. Other hints of a later date of composition we might find in codices 252 and

52. Codex 252 refers to a Life of Pope Gregory the Great, believed to have been adapted from a Latin version composed as late as 875. As I already stated earlier, I do not believe that this is correct; this codex can, in my view, not be adduced as an argument for a later date. Different is the case for codex 52, which recalls

personal experience (my italics, JPS) with Messalianist heretics (possibly Paulicianism, regarded as a recrudescence of Manichaeism:”' cf. Treadgold 1980, 29; also

supra, p. 109 and n. 59). This hardly appears ordinary business for a layman, let alone an Orthodox, iconodule, relatively young civil servant. This conclusion brings us to the problem that Treadgold does not really deal

with, as I stated above: the nature of the books reviewed by Photius. If one reads the Bibliotheca, it is the number of non-Orthodox Christian works included that

strikes the eye." These include works by Arians (16), Gnostics (4), Monophys81

After the Persian preacher and prophet Mani (216—276). For an introduction to his ideas, sce M. Tardieu, Manichaeism, Champaign, IL 2009.

82

Many of these non-Orthodox (or plainly heretic) works/belicfs focus on the soul's natural energy, the nature of Christ (completely divine or yet partly human?) and, connected there-

with, the role of Mary: was she theotokos (nmother of Gods), anthropotokos (»mother of a mortal«), or something in between: christotokos (mother of the Christ«), whether one could or not depict God and/or Christ, and how to learn-—and know—Truth. In a process that took

many Councils, Eastern Orthodoxy was essentially established in 843. Its basis remained (like in the Roman Catholic church) the Nicene creed, laid down during the First Council of Constantinople of 381, stating that it was una, sancta, catholica et apostolica ecclesia (»one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church«). The cause of the schism of 1054 between the Eastern Or-

thodox church and the Roman Catholic church was the addition of the word »filioque« (»and (from) the son«) to the Roman creed by Pope Benedict VIII in 1014. It expresses the Procession of the Holy Ghost from both God the Father and God the Son, »Et (credo) in Spiritum

I40

2 The main transmitters

ites (15), Manichaeans (2), Monoenergists (1), Nestorians (20), and Origenists (11), next to 169 works written in the orthodox tradition, 11 Jewish, and 1

of unknown provenance (cf. Treadgold 1980, 117—168). As far as I know, of all these religious groups only the Jews were, in the views of Orthodoxy, not regarded as heretics. A total of 69 (or perhaps even 70) heretical works in a total of 250 works with religious background is, in my opinion, too significant to be overlooked.

We might say that, as it appears, Photius was much inter-

ested in heresy and that much of the work suggests that he was given the run of the patriarch's library (Wilson 1996, 99—100). Two examples should suffice to illustrate the nature of books Photius had at his disposal to read: regarding Origen's view on the Holy Trinity in De Principiis (codex 8) Photius writes: ..

£v ᾧ πλεῖστα βλασφημεῖ.... (»... in this his statements are especially blasphemous .. .« [3b37]) and on the Ecclesiastical History by Philostorgius the Arian (c. AD 368—425; codex 40) he notices that it is... «póyov δὲ γυμνὸν καὶ κατηγορίαν

τῶν ὀρθοδόξων ... (»... a barefaced attack upon the Orthodox ...« [8a37]). We already discussed that the patriarch's library possessed a unit with »suspect literature«, a»Helk. The next question is who were admitted there, or simpler: is it likely that in those days, the iconoclasts hardly beaten and (as we have seen) Orthodoxy still always unsettled, a Patriarch like Methodius (let alone the staunch Ignatius) would have allowed a relatively young layman, no matter

how prominent he was, to make himself familiar with such heretic literature?

Or would this iconodule youngster have had easy access to this heretic literature during his exile? Yet, Schamp (though maintaining that we have to believe Photius on his words: Schamp 1987, 69—75) acknowledges that Photius either held the keys or had some kind of access to the»Hell« (Schamp 1987, 35). There lies my problem with Treadgold's views (and the view of others who maintain that Photius composed this work during the forties of the IXth century), no matter how much I agree with him on the date the works Photius used were written or composed. It is their content, their nature, that makes c. 845 asa date of composition of the Bibliotheca for me hard to conceive. If, however, Photius

composed (the notes underlying) his Bibliotheca during his patriarchate, access to the »Hell« would have been a lot easier for him: the Patriarch no doubt had the necessary keys. Would, on the other hand, the Patriarch be used for an embassy, notably to 'the Assyrians